Hey Dana Jane

Category: Catholicism

  • Maybe God Had Other Plans

    I have been thinking a lot about Christa Pike.

    Not because I believe she is innocent. Not because I think what she did to Colleen Slemmer can be explained away, excused, or forgotten. And certainly not because I expect Colleen’s mother to forgive the woman who took her daughter’s life.

    What happened to Colleen was horrific. There is no softer word for it.

    I have read about what happened, and as a mother, I cannot imagine the pain of losing a child in such a violent and senseless way. I understand why Colleen’s mother has spent decades carrying anger, grief, and a desire for justice. I don’t presume to tell her how she should feel or whether she should ever forgive.

    But I also believe something very strongly:

    I do not believe that human beings have the right to take another person’s life as punishment.

    I am conservative. I am Catholic. And I know that some people may find those beliefs contradictory when it comes to the death penalty.

    They aren’t contradictory to me.

    My opposition to capital punishment isn’t rooted in sympathy for criminals or a belief that horrific crimes shouldn’t have severe consequences. I believe people should be held accountable for the things they do. I believe victims deserve justice. I believe society has a responsibility to protect innocent people from dangerous individuals.

    But I don’t believe that means we have been given the authority to play God.

    And then came what happened to Christa Pike.

    She was strapped to a table. The state of Tennessee attempted to execute her by lethal injection. Two doses of the execution drugs were administered, and the execution could not be completed.

    She survived.

    I don’t pretend to know what that means.

    I don’t know why it happened. I don’t know what God intends for Christa Pike. I don’t know whether this was simply a catastrophic failure of an execution procedure or something more.

    But as a person of faith, I cannot help but wonder.

    Maybe God had other plans.

    I know how that sounds.

    Some people will read that and think, How could you possibly say that about someone who did what she did to Colleen?

    Because believing that God may have spared someone’s life is not the same thing as saying that person doesn’t deserve accountability.

    Maybe the rest of Christa Pike’s life is supposed to be lived behind bars, facing the reality of what she did every single day.

    Maybe there are things she still needs to learn.

    Maybe there is repentance that has not yet happened.

    Maybe there are people she needs to help through her testimony.

    Maybe there is a possibility of redemption that none of us can see.

    Or maybe there is some purpose known only to God.

    That’s the thing about faith. We don’t always get to know the why.

    And I think that’s where my Catholic faith matters most.

    I believe in the sanctity of human life even when that life has been terribly misused. I believe that God created us, and that ultimately, our lives belong to Him.

    That doesn’t mean consequences disappear.

    It doesn’t mean forgiveness is owed.

    It doesn’t mean Colleen’s mother has to embrace Christa Pike or pretend that the murder of her daughter didn’t destroy a part of her life.

    It doesn’t mean we forget Colleen.

    Quite the opposite.

    Colleen deserves to be remembered.

    Her life should never become merely the footnote to the story of the woman who killed her.

    And perhaps that is another reason I struggle with the death penalty. When we execute someone, we don’t bring the victim back. We don’t erase the crime. We don’t restore the family that was shattered.

    We simply take another life.

    I know there are people who disagree with me. I understand why some believe that certain crimes are so terrible that death is the only appropriate punishment. I understand the desire for justice, especially when the victim’s life was taken so brutally.

    But I don’t believe justice requires me to believe that the government should have the power to decide when another human being’s life ends.

    I believe in justice.

    I also believe in mercy.

    And I believe that ultimately, God is better equipped than any of us to judge a human soul.

    So when I think about what happened to Christa Pike, I don’t think, She got lucky.

    I think about the fact that she was supposed to die, and she didn’t.

    And I can’t help but wonder if there is a reason.

    Maybe God spared her.

    Maybe He didn’t.

    I don’t know.

    But I know this: I am not going to presume to know God’s plans.

    I can condemn what Christa Pike did to Colleen Slemmer while still believing that Christa Pike’s life has value.

    I can grieve for Colleen and her family while believing that another death will not undo theirs.

    I can understand why a mother cannot forgive the person who murdered her child while still believing that forgiveness, repentance, and redemption ultimately belong in God’s hands.

    And I can believe that some people deserve to spend the rest of their lives behind bars without believing that any human being has the right to decide that another human being’s life is over.

    Because I don’t believe we are God.

    And maybe, just maybe, last night’s events were a reminder of that.

  • Backwards or Traditions Reclaimed? A Woman’s Take on the American Catholic Church

    I love my Catholic faith. The teachings of Christ, the sacraments, the sense of community—it’s deeply woven into the fabric of who I am. But loving something doesn’t mean you don’t question it or call it out when necessary. And lately, I’ve found myself wrestling with something troubling: a seemingly growing movement within the American Catholic Church to return to “old” traditions, particularly when it comes to women.

    I’ve seen women donning veils in Mass and receiving communion exclusively on the tongue, and I can’t help but feel that this marks a step backward. Let me be clear: I don’t have an issue with women who choose to practice their faith in this way. If wearing a veil makes someone feel closer to God, or if receiving communion on the tongue deepens their reverence, that’s beautiful. Faith is personal, and everyone’s journey is unique.

    What I do have a problem with is the undercurrent of manipulation, guilt, or outright judgment from some corners of the Church, suggesting that if you don’t conform to these “traditional” practices, your faith is somehow lacking. That, as a woman, my way of practicing Catholicism must look like it did a century ago. To that, I say no.

    The Catholic Church has a long history of oppressing women—limiting our voices, marginalizing our contributions, and sometimes even blaming us for the Church’s shortcomings. I refuse to be guilted, forced, or shamed into a role that feels archaic, subservient, and disconnected from my identity. Women are not the lesser sex, and we don’t need to hide behind veils to prove our holiness.

    This isn’t just my personal frustration; it’s a systemic issue. The Church is, ultimately, an organization dominated by men. And often, those men are flawed. Power-hungry. Sometimes narcissistic. And let’s not forget the scars left by the abuse scandal. Many of us—myself included—are still reeling from it, struggling to reconcile the faith we love with the institution that failed so profoundly to protect its people.

    It’s not easy being Catholic in America today. There’s a growing divide between tradition and progress, and too often, women are caught in the middle. When women feel unheard or oppressed within the Church, they leave. And when they leave, they take their children with them. That’s why pews are emptier now than in years past.

    So, to the leaders of the Church, I ask: Are we so fixated on reclaiming the past that we’re willing to lose the future?

    I will always love my faith. But loving my faith doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything about the Church. It’s okay to question, to push back, to demand better. Because if the Church truly wants to thrive in the modern world, it needs to recognize that women are not relics of the past. We are the present, and we deserve a faith that honors our dignity, intelligence, and contributions—not one that tries to veil them.