Author: Julie Lotarski Page 8 of 11

I have a confession.  I don’t go to confession. The end. 

No, but seriously, I really do not know anyone that does go to Confession on a regular basis.  Let’s face it, it’s an awkward sacrament and with most people these days having a phobia of confrontation, it’s no wonder most Catholics avoid it. 

I remember going to Confession in elementary school.  We would line up and wait for our turn with the priest.  We could sit in a chair or kneel behind a screen. The confession itself was always pretty superficial.  You would say something like, “I was mean to my brother,” to which the priest would tell you to say three Hail Mary’s.  You would go to a pew, kneel, and pray, then stand back in line while you waited for the rest of your class. 

Fast-forward to my college years, my roommate and I proudly decided we would go to Confession one year for Lent.  Apparently, this priest thought I was the devil because I barely spoke before he went on a tirade about how sinful college students were with their boyfriends/girlfriends and literally took up almost all his designated Confession time.  By the time he was done with me, I walked out to a line full of people judgingly starring at me wondering what could have possibly taken so long.  So, no, I was not in a big rush to go back to Confession after that.  

Fast-forward more than a decade later, as I was questioning my faith, a parishioner recommended me talking to a particular Opus Dei priest during Confession.  I went and he was nice enough (definitely an improvement over the last time) but like most Catholics found excuses not to return.

I feel like the Sacrament of Reconciliation is something that Catholics face a lot of criticism over.  Some say it’s a loophole that propagates sin or that no man has the power to absolve you of your sins.  In fact, I just laughed as I read a very angry blog post online shaming Catholics who sin and then say, “I’ll just go confess it to the priest next week.”  If he had a comment section, I would have challenged him to introduce me to such a Catholic as I have been asking everyone I know when their last confession was and have yet to identify someone who went more recently than six months ago.  It’s not just non-Catholics who have issue with Confession.    

I think Catholics avoid confession for the obvious.  It’s embarrassing to verbally describe your faults out loud to a man of the cloth.  I mean just alone that right off the bat I would have to walk in and say, “My last confession was seven years ago…” Yikes!  Although Father Mike Schmitz claims to have “divine amnesia” after hearing confessions so I really hope that goes for all priests. 

For those that say they do not need a priest, that they can go straight to God with their sins, Father Mike would say great, but you should also go to a priest.  He explains that Jesus gave his apostles the power to forgive sins as a mediator, intercessor, tool, etc. for God and therefore wants us to utilize that gift.   

He made a good point when he brought up that no religion on Earth baptizes themselves.  Why not just go straight to God for your Baptism?  He believes it is because of the unease we feel in the act of Confession, and I don’t think he’s wrong. 

One of my goals this Lent was to go to Confession and like the true procrastinator that I am, I am running out of time.  Today I was reflecting on my vices.  The vicious cycles I act on in which always leave me feeling guilty, yet I can’t seem to stop myself from doing.  For me, I am hopeful that the sacrament of Reconciliation will help me lessen those bad habits with the people I love.  Afterall, Father Mike claims that Confession is not a defeat but a victory.  What do you want to be victorious in?   

Some say nothing is an accident.  If that’s true I would say I was destined to get my dates wrong tonight so I would be in the car listening to the radio and hear the song, “Need a Favor.”  I know I’m a little late to the Jason “Jelly Roll” DeFord music party but in my defense, I have been listening to my four-year-old’s “Runaway Pancake” cd on repeat for the past six months.  You may recognize his name from other tracks such as “Son of a Sinner,” “She,” or “Dead Man Walking.”  Upon hearing “Need a Favor” for the first time I was immediately googling it and knew it would be a topic of conversation for me. 

As I looked into the man named after a pastry, things just started to connect.  Recently I heard Father Mike Schmitz say something along the lines of, “God prepares you with everything you need to fulfill your purpose.”  Jelly Roll has become a music icon who describes his work as “therapeutic, real music for real people.”  The son of an addict with mental health issues, his passion for making music was ignited watching the positive power a song could have over the emotional well-being of his mother.  Known as a master of all music genres, it seems he can attribute that to never having control over the radio as a kid.  After spending twelve years in and out of the judicial system, he instantly decided to turn his life around from cell 223 on March 22, 2008, when the prison guard announced that a woman had birthed his daughter. 

Today his song lyrics are touching millions of hearts for the same reason people love Taylor Swift, he’s just so damn relatable!  Jelly Roll is now a passionate philanthropist who does not just fundraise but matches every dollar out of his own bank accounts to help support youth outreach programs.  Learning his story, I feel like this is exactly what Father Mike was talking about.  God not only gave him an incredible gift as a talented singer/songwriter but lead him to do His work by helping countless people. 

Hearing Jelly Roll talk on the Bobby Bones Show about his passion for justice reform and working with juvenile correction centers I was reminded of what Mother Olga spoke about this Saturday on Almsgiving.  The topic was Work of Mercy: Visit the Imprisoned.  She described various forms of imprisonment from the literal to the figurative imprisonment of addiction and mental illnesses.  Mother Olga has prayed with many prisoners worldwide including some just moments before receiving the death penalty.  Her quote that stands out to me the most is, “We believe in our Catholic faith that every sinner has a future because every saint had a past.”  We have this preconceived notion that the saints are perfect, but one could argue sainthood is granted on the effectiveness of your life’s work.  I would say on those merits, Jelly Roll is on his way to sainthood, and he definitely has a past! 

Now everyone loves a good Cinderella story such as a reformed convict starts selling tapes out of his car until eventually he makes it big.  When I was feeling down the other night because apparently only like ten people are reading my blog, my husband told me a story to make me feel better.  He said he saw a video online of a famous comedian talking about his journey and how frustrating it was when he felt like “he was killing it” with his material but no one was noticing.  He said that ultimately if you keep creating and putting it out there eventually it will get noticed by the right people.  This gave me a spark of hope and I smile again as I realize it worked for Jelly Roll.    

Now Jelly Roll’s songs may not seem altogether “holy,” in fact one might classify his work as “spiritual hypocrisy.”  However, I would argue what is special about his music is that he is shining a light on a population of people who are struggling.  People who are downtrodden and feel forgotten.  I talked the other day about the importance of “feeling seen” and frankly sometimes that’s all we need in order to turn our lives around.  So, thank-you Jelly Roll for keeping it real, raw and relatable.    

My son has a new bedtime routine, it consists of listening to me recite the Rosary until he falls asleep.  It started as a ploy to trick him into falling asleep and keep him in his own bed.  One night after repeatedly asking to sleep in our bed I told him if he was still awake by the end of the Rosary, he could come into our bed.  Now, I may have cheated and added a few extra decades to keep him in his bed until he fell asleep, but my mission was accomplished.  Since then, he has been asking me to say the Rosary while he falls asleep.  I don’t even think he has ulterior motives; I think it just helps him relax. 

Tonight, while we were getting ready for bed, I was watching some videos online of Father Mike Schmitz trying to drum up some inspiration for what I would write about, when my son stole my phone.  We were surprised to see him watch the screen attentively as if he were as interested in the religious lesson as he would be in a Wild Kratts episode.  “He likes praying at night,” my husband observed. 

This got me thinking about something Matthew Kelly talked about in his book, Rediscover the Saints, in that parents should aspire to raise their children to become saints.  This stood out to me because it was something that had never even crossed my mind.  I’m not sure if it’s because in modern times we view sainthood as too far out of reach, or if it is because I associate saints with too much pain and suffering.  Either way it was very thought provoking. 

The last few days as I have been viewing more videos of Father Mike Schmitz, I started wondering how I would feel if one of my sons were to become a priest.  Again, it was something that had never crossed my mind before, as I have never known anyone who went to seminary school.  Now if you are familiar with Father Mike Schmitz you know he does not strike you as a typical priest.  He is young, charismatic and an extremely gifted public speaker.  A man who arguably could have chosen any career path but chose priesthood (ironically after years of hating the church and making fun of priests).  He is an internet sensation no doubt who has impacted thousands of people.  I look at him and think, his mother must be very proud. 

Lately, at the ripe old age of four I have already been stressing out about my son missing his “window” in the world of sports.  I know how competitive sports leagues have become and fear that if I do not press him to learn young, it will be too late for him by the time he decides he wants to play.  Not that it is important to me that my son excel in sports, I just want him to have the option to play if that’s an avenue he wants to pursue down the road. 

So perhaps I should view the idea of religious service for my children in the same way.  Never take it off the table.  All a mother can do is try to prepare her children for the mystery that is their future.  To my boys I hope you always know, I don’t care if you are a doctor, custodian or musician.  As long as you are happy and kind, I will be unbelievably proud.  But don’t take my unconditional love too far, you still have to play Ave Maria at your wedding (if you’re not a priest that is).    

I am the rule, not the exception.  My daughter was sick, and she died.  I asked the Lord for a life-saving miracle, and I was denied.  I went through what the majority of parents with sick children go through.  You can talk about the power of prayer all you want but realistically, most people with terminal illness WILL die from that illness.  Most people who are told they will never walk again, WON’T walk again.    Lazarus was the exception, NOT the rule.  Yet, we sit in mass on Sundays being fed this narrative that if we are true believers, we can be the exception.  Well, I’m calling bullsh*t!

I specifically stopped going to mass out of fear of being forced to listen to yet another raised from the dead miracle story such as Lazarus or Jairus’ daughter or the son of the widow.  Where they preach about the glorification of God but give no consolation prize to all the parents who have buried their children.  Every time a priest tells a miracle story, I silently plead with God that they will say something of comfort to the people in my position.  Until today, every time I was let down. 

Today, for this week’s Sunday reflection, while Father Mike Schmitz spoke of the story of Lazarus, I rolled my eyes and thought, “here we go again.”  However, halfway through it was as if the clouds parted and the sun shone down on me.  He dove deeper into this gospel than I ever heard before.  Glorification was not even his main point, but it was as if he included it just for me.  He said that although Lazarus was raised from the dead to bring glorification to God, the true glorification is in everyone who suffers great loss and still follows God. 

“God can be even more glorified in the faith and the trust in the love that DOESN’T get the miracle and still walks forward in faith, still walks forward in trust, still walks forward in love.”           

“God can be even more glorified in the faith and the trust in the love that DOESN’T get the miracle and still walks forward in faith, still walks forward in trust, still walks forward in love.”         

Father mike schmitz

AMEN TO THAT!!!

Finally, I felt seen!  It has been seven years since my daughter died and that was the first true biblical sense of comfort I had felt.  What does that tell you about the majority of our sermons today? 

I keep saying that when a priest plans a sermon, he should do so prioritizing who will be in the most pain, and tailor it to them.  More people have been denied a miracle than given a miracle, yet we are taught to expect it.  Then when we ask why not, the best they can give us is some sort of “thy will be done” shrug of the shoulders.    

Personally, I believe if we want to connect more people to the church, we should focus on the everyday heroes, the unseen warriors.  Rather than grasping at straws trying to bring people into the church by glorifying some miracle performed thousands of years ago that people may or may not even believe, talk about something that they can relate to.  Approach the story from a different angle.  Make them feel seen. 

People go to church for many reasons, but I believe the most crucial are those searching for comfort.  When the church misses the mark, it can have catastrophic repercussions.  People may stop attending mass or lose their faith altogether.  So, it is imperative that we make sure those in pain, feel seen.  I felt seen today.      

Thank-you Father Mike for changing the momentum for me with his gospel.  It’s a whole new ball game! 

It has been said that Catholic guilt is the excess of healthy guilt.  Which is not horrible, but perhaps not necessary either.  Everyone has a conscience prompting them to do the right thing, maybe though in the Catholic church ours is just putting in too much overtime. 

The number of things I can feel guilty from in a day is never ending.  I can go to church but then feel guilty that I didn’t pay close enough attention.  I can donate money but feel guilty that I didn’t donate more.  I can pray the Rosary but then feel guilty for not saying it two times, three times, etc.  Essentially there is always guilt because you can always do more.    

This really stood out to me at the beginning of Lent when we prayed the Litany of Humility.  In listening to some of the lines, my heart was just not in it.  I was trying to say the words but felt like an imposter because I knew full well that I would never make good on what I was praying.  Frankly, I just viewed it as too unrealistic.    

“From the desire of being loved…Deliver me, Jesus.”

“That others may be preferred to me in everything…Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.” 

It made more sense to me the next day when Jim Caviezel quoted an excerpt from The Imitation of Christ: “Do not be detoured, nor quickly cast down when you hear about the way of the perfect.  Rather be inspired to reach great heights or at least aspire to attain them.”  (Book 3, Chapter 32, Section 3)

To me it seems like a ‘shoot for the moon, land among the stars’ type of thing.

We all know the Catholic church has a broad set of “rules.”  As a teacher I view it as if God is a professor with a very detailed outline of his course syllabus, accounting for every possible scenario.  For those in education today can attest no one can be held accountable for anything if it was not clearly put into writing on day one. 

So why is it said that Catholics experience the most guilt?  I think it stems from when we are young, we take everything at face value.  We are told, you need to follow the bible and the ten commandments to go to Heaven.  De facto, if you stray from this, you go to hell.  Our brains are not fully capable of abstract learning until well into our teens.  By that time so much of our faith has already been ingrained into our heads, thus causing the feelings of guilt anytime you stray from perfection (which as humans is constant).    

Again, as a teacher I would question if the model of the catholic church is effective?  I think many would argue that the fear of hell is in fact effective in dissuading the faithful from committing a vast array of sins.  My second question would be, is there a better “carrot” to motivate the faithful.  As Catholics do we focus too much on negative reinforcement versus positive?  Ultimately, what do we want our students to do and how can be best motivate them? 

Still, it’s hard for me to imagine the opposite end of the spectrum.  A guilt-free religion seems too complacent if you completely remove the struggle.  It is definitely a fine line, as you want to simultaneously enjoy the fruits of your labor, while still doing God’s work.  Afterall, even Immaculée Ilibagiza allowed herself a personal allowance after giving most of her money to her aunts, brother and the orphans. 

“Besides, what was wrong with dressing up?  I knew that God wanted me to feel happy.” 

LEd by Faith p. 104

So how do we combat the “Catholic guilt” and why does it seem to plague some of us more than others?  Is it specific to our personal upbringing or does it have to do with how our individual brains are wired?  Perhaps we all just need to take the standards of the church with a grain of salt.  Maybe we don’t need to be perfectionists but simply life-long learners.  Afterall, if gluttony is a grave sin, then we should take that as an order to trim the excess guilt! 

Growing up we never ate dinner before “saying grace.”  I distinctly remember my parents giving me “the look” if I tried to sneak a bite early, warning me I better not think about it.  This is why I was so confused one night when we were out at a restaurant, and we didn’t “say grace.”  Quickly I learned that you didn’t “say grace” when you were eating in public places, and I remember that the contradiction confused me.   

I have started reading Immaculée Ilibagiza’s third book, Our Lady of Kibeho (which I will get to later) and I started to realize why I love her writing so much.  Not only is she a miraculously holy person, but she relays her faith through the perspective of a life and culture completely different from that of my own.  For whatever reason, that seems to make it more pure and meaningful to me.    

One of the biggest differences that stands out to me when Immaculée describes her Rwandan upbringing, is how normalized it was to outwardly praise God.  Immaculée and her family constantly expressed gratitude to God in a genuine and unassuming way.  Not to say that we don’t praise God in America, but it feels more private, solemn, and reserved for church.  Thankfulness to God just doesn’t seem to come up in day-to-day small talk with my friends and family. 

Immaculée describes a childhood in which play and prayer overlapped.   Such as when she invented the game “Pictures in Heaven.”  This was a strike-a-pose type game in which children pretended God was taking pictures of them during the flashes of the meteor showers.  As a girl, after learning about the 1917 miracle in Fatima, Immaculée led a series of reenactments with her friends on a mountaintop to try and lure the Virgin Mary to her village of Mataba.  I just played with Barbies growing up, although we did pretend we were priests giving the Eucharist when we ate satellite wafers, so there’s that. 

I guess life is a tradeoff.  As I used to feel sorry for people living in emerging villages, with no running water or electricity, but when I hear Immaculée speak of her childhood I feel a sense of jealousy for what I fear our society could never emulate.  With no television or phone to distract them, her family spent the evenings in prayer together or partaking in a tradition known as Igitaramo.  This consisted of a gathering around a large communal fire, with people singing and dancing to traditional songs and speakers relaying news or telling stories of tribal legends.  How nice does that sound? 

In her previous book, Immaculée describes meeting the woman who would buy her wedding dress under the pretense that they were sisters.  A fellow Rwandan Tutsi survivor who shared her love of the Virgin Mary.  How were they sisters you ask?  The generous woman insisted that since Mary was both of their mothers, then they were sisters, and therefore she could pay for Immaculée’s dress because sisters take care of each other. 

I feel like when I listen to Immaculée’s voice on Audible her piety is that much more accentuated.  After a few days walking around the house with my AirPods in, I felt myself wanting to talk like her and copycat her phrases.  Then I would stop and remind myself that people don’t talk like that around here.  Although maybe we should.  Seriously though, can you imagine a society in which no one had electronic distractions?  What would happen if kids just stayed home at night praying with their families?  Can you fathom overhearing a conversation in which two strangers instantly become sisters on the logic that the Virgin Mary is their mother?       

Although I think it’s time to mainstream these wholesome antics without fear of appearing weird or attention-seeking.  We’ve all heard the expression less is more, and it seems universal throughout history that those with less have exponentially richer spiritual lives.  Afterall, it all started with a stable, a manger and a baby.    

“This is Jesus, His name is God.”  This very well might be the cutest thing my niece has ever said.  I mean, I totally get it; we have a lot of names for Him- Father, Lord, Holy Spirit, it’s totally confusing for little ones. 

Growing up we went to church religiously; pun intended.  We never missed a Sunday or a holy day of obligation.  Most people skip mass on vacation, we were NOT those people.  Plus, we went to catholic school so that meant religion class daily and school mass on Fridays.  I’m proud of my parents for all the effort they put into our religious upbringing, even if in recent years it hasn’t stuck the way they would have liked it to.  The nice thing is, because they created such a strong religious foundation for me, it has given me the security to explore different avenues of my faith. 

I remember going to the Newman Center with my roommate in college and a group of us from our dorm getting our ashes on Ash Wednesday.  I loved visiting the cathedrals in Europe and lighting candles.  Catholicism has been and always will be a center part of my identity thanks to my parents.  But now I am the parent, and it is up to me to decide in what ways I am going to steer my children.

I am a little relieved that my son currently attends a Catholic preschool, so I am not solely responsible for his religious training.  I know they are working on ways to “be kind” for Lent because every now and then he starts rambling his list and asks funny things like, “And getting mold-o-ramas, is that kind?”  Sure, buddy, why not?      

The other night as I laid beside him, I said we should pray to Jesus.  I gave an example and said something along the lines of, “Dear Jesus, thank-you for giving us a great day.  Please keep my boys safe.”  After which he prayed, “Dear Jesus, help us to be kind like God.  Also, please don’t let us get eaten by sharks.  Thank-you for catching fish.”  Is there anything more precious than listening to a child talk to God? 

Now that our oldest is four I realize we are standing at the crossroads of religion and parenting.  In what ways are we going to pass down the faith and how will that shape him as he matures?  Knowing that if we simply neglect to teach him something, we are making a statement all the same.

“Train the young in the way they should go: even when old, they will not swerve from it.” 

Proverbs 22:6 

As I go through my Lenten journey I realize, I am not just doing it for me but also for my sons.  I owe it to them to model how to have a positive, productive, and genuine relationship with God.  It’s easy to love God when things are going well but trusting God through the pain is much more difficult.  In this uncertain world, faith is the most powerful tool in our arsenal.  Just as our deity has many names, there are many ways to teach our children about Him, and personally I think the best is through the example we set. 

Three seems to be a magic number in our world today.  We have three primary colors, three meals a day, and three trimesters to a pregnancy.  We stop, drop and roll, we have morning, noon and night, and everything has a beginning, middle and end. 

Biblically, three is also a very significant number which represents completeness.  We have the Trinity, the holy family and the three books of wisdom.  Jesus rose on the third day, there were three wise men, and we have three archangels.  The list goes on and on.    

Three is also responsible for the condition of Down Syndrome in giving a third chromosome 21.  Therefore, March 21^st is known as World Down Syndrome Day.

There is a Latin phrase: Omne trium perfectum: “Everything that comes in threes is perfect.”  This is very fitting as it is said that individuals with Down Syndrome are imperfectly perfect.  Spend time with the Down Syndrome community and you will understand.  These individuals are so much more than their diagnoses, they are catalysts, superheroes and teachers.   

Anne will tell you her sister Joycie is a catalyst.  Growing up in a family of eight kids, taking care of her sister Joycie was in large part her responsibility.  It is what motivated her to become a special education teacher.  Anne’s mother encouraged her to marry her husband Joe, solely based on witnessing the kind and gentle way he treated Joycie.  Anne and Joe would later take care of Joycie for 7 years, and it is to Joycie Anne credits with teaching her children patience.  “They called her helpless, but she was the one helping me.”    

Casey will tell you that her daughter Sammy is a superhero.  “Sammy will make you feel like the most important person in the room.”  She will shower you with compliments and give you her undivided attention.  Sammy also possesses unsurpassed empathy.  She will listen, give hugs, or simply be with you.  Best of all is her smile. People often tell Casey that a smile from Sammy can turn their whole day around. 

Shelley will tell you that her son Joshua is a teacher.  “As much as I help him, he helps me be a better person.”  It is through the eyes of her son that Shelley has learned life’s most beautiful lessons.  Such as acceptance of all humans, love without limitations, and the joy that comes from a pure and honest heart.       

During the year of 2014, I knew three women, all 28-years-old, who gave birth to babies with Down Syndrome.  At the time this was surprising to me because statistically it is highly unlikely for a woman under the age of 30, to have a child with Down Syndrome.  However, nine years ago, I didn’t understand the power of threes.  God doesn’t make mistakes.  God knew what he was doing.  It is not a coincidence that the number three is at the root of this phenomenon.  God was blessing these families with completeness.  We all know three is a lucky number and as they say in the Down Syndrome community, these families are “the lucky few.”     

As a young girl I vaguely remember learning about the “Veil of Veronica” in school.  While Jesus was carrying his cross to Calvary, an unknown woman used her veil to wipe his sweat and blood from his brow and then it bore the image of his face.  I thought about this as I went to visit The Man of the Shroud exhibit at my church this weekend.  (A full-length replica of the shroud said to contain the crucified image of Jesus).    

Perhaps the most studied artifact in human history, a piece of pale, ivory linen, lies at the heart of the age-old debate of religion versus science.  Many believe this shroud to be the burial cloth of Jesus Christ, others take it as a Medieval forgery.  Whatever the case, there seems to be just enough evidence to affirm the believers, with just enough lacking to affirm the doubters.  Ultimately the verdict is in the heart of the beholder.   

Whatever the case, this piece of fabric seems to have been taken for a wild ride throughout history.  By 1355 it was well known in Europe and was displayed at many royal events in the 1400’s before becoming scorched in a fire in France in 1532. 

A century of scientific investigation was launched in 1898 when photographer Secondo Pia photographed the fabric and a much more pronounced image of a crucified man appeared on the negative. While examining this enhanced version of the image a number of interesting observations can be made.  According to the exhibit, the shroud contains the anatomically correct image of a man with blood stains matching biblical descriptions of Jesus’ torture and crucifixion.  More specifically 370 wounds from a three-thonged whip applied from two directions (scourging from Roman soldiers).  Also, exceptional blood flow from multiple wounds on the head (crown of thorns) as well as marks on the right shoulder and left shoulder blade (carrying beam of cross), lacerations and swelling of left kneecap (numerous falls).      

The teacher in me rests on the fact that more than anything this shroud serves as a vital visual aid in the public understanding the pain Jesus (and therefore his mother Mary watching) endured during his crucifixion.  The exhibit paints a clear step-by-step picture outlining more details than I was ever aware of.  For example, the bible says Jesus’ legs were not broken on the cross.  Why?  Broken legs on a cross equates to asphyxiation and therefore a quicker death, but Jesus was left to suffer longer.  Seven-inch Roman roofing nails were driven into Jesus’ wrists and two more were used on his feet to better prop up his body, extending his death.  Ultimately, Jesus would have died from a combination of factors including excessive blood loss leading to hypovolemic shock, accumulation of blood to lower extremities, and asphyxiation.   

Just as with the Marian apparitions, the church does not force belief onto the faithful.  Recent popes have not verbally acknowledged whether they believe the shroud is authentic to Jesus Christ but believe it to be an icon of love.  Pope Francis spoke of the shroud as representing “the face of every suffering and unjustly persecuted person.” 

The debate does not seem to be whether or not the shroud is that of a real human who was scourged and crucified, but whether that person was in fact Jesus Christ.  Personally, I wouldn’t expect God to leave us a miracle ironclad from doubt.  I don’t really think that’s His style, plus what would be the fun in that?  Ultimately, does it matter if it is real? 

Once again, the teacher in me looks at the objectives and evaluates what the Shroud of Turin accomplishes. 

• Does the shroud bring the faithful closer to God?
• Does the shroud educate the faithful about Jesus’ crucifixion? 
• Does the shroud raise awareness of those persecuted in the world? 

Presumably everyone would agree “yes” to the above, yet it is human nature to demand proof.  Maybe it’s similar to the transubstantiation of our Eucharist at Holy Communion.  Whatever the case, no scientific test will ever be able to prove or disprove what is in our heart.  So go ahead and write your own narrative to fill in the gaps of the Shroud of Turin.  I believe God is an awesome ghostwriter, and He will direct your plotline accordingly.