“Ask a Priest: Could I Attend Campus Parties Without Drinking?”
Q: I’ll be a freshman this fall and am already quite worried about being put in a college environment while trying to hold on to my Catholic beliefs. I already feel pressured to fit in with my friends. A lot of them are probably going to want to go to parties around campus that involve drinking. I know drinking isn’t inherently a sin, but I am underage and don’t plan on drinking at these parties at all. Am I being sinful or choosing to live a life with God and the world at once by going to these parties in the first place and not drinking? If I don’t drink and stay firm to my beliefs when asked, will God be upset with me that I am putting myself in sinful environments? I don’t want to be excluded from meeting people and making connections. – J.B.
Answered by Fr. Edward McIlmail, LC
A: You seem to have set up a false dilemma: either you go to the parties or you won’t meet people.
Let’s unpack this a bit.
You refer to going to parties and not drinking, but you mention “sinful environments.”
The question is, will these parties be near occasions of sin for you? Here you need to know yourself.
You say that you already feel pressured. You want to be realistic about how well and how long you would resist the urge to be drawn into the drinking.
If you are leaving home for the first time, it could take a while to develop your sea legs on the turbulent waters of campus life. The temptation to fit in with a group will be strong.
Your e-mail implies that this is the only kind of socializing on campus. Have you investigated other activities? Is there a Newman Center on the campus? Are there Catholic clubs you could join?
You might check out the FOCUS site to see whether it has a chapter at the school.
So, try to plan. You need to network with other students who are serious about their faith. This will be a big help for your living of the faith.
You might want to start this research soon … before you find yourself in the deep end of the pool.
In any case, dedicate time to prayer each day and stay close to the sacraments. Count on my prayers.
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In an increasingly secular world that still admires heroes, the saints are to the world what Superman is to Comics – classic figures of perennial value, representing goodness and triumph over society’s maladies, no matter the multitude of idols invented to distract the common seeker. Unlike comic book figures, the saints are neither mythical nor born of experimental scientific procedures or freak natural phenomena. They are born of fragile clay vessels receptive to God-given grace. Like superhero figures, the saints are unique and above the ordinary. But, unlike superheroes, the possibility of enrolling in the communion of saints is open to all. It is an open and universal school.
When I sit upon the shores of the Sea of Galilee, I cannot help imagine what went through the heart of Mary Magdalene as she too sat upon the sand many years ago. The scene feels something like this: the rhythmic lapping of the sea upon the shore, the wind rustling the tall seagrass, the blue-domed sky with wisps of white cloud formations, the multitude of birds flitting about, and the majestic hills standing upon the shoreline beyond. 
One thing I love about Mary Magdalene is that she was human. Like men and women since Adam and Eve, she knew the reality of sin. She fought the battle that takes place in the depth of the human heart when misguided or ill-formed freedom gives into desires that snuff out God’s life within. The evangelists labeled her as the “woman from whom Jesus expelled seven demons” (Luke 8:2). What were those seven demons? Theories abound: a mental illness, epilepsy, schizophrenia, or a real possession?
The excavated marketplace and ancient synagogue in Magdala are the perfect places to imagine Jesus teaching, healing, and encountering many people. I love to imagine Mary Magdalene observing Jesus there. Little by little Jesus’s words piqued her curiosity, becoming personal, and she seeks him out. Initially, she keeps her distance as a mere observer. Perhaps she watches him in the marketplace confronting the Pharisees as he reveals how much he sees into their hearts. “Woe to you Pharisees! For you love the chief seats in the synagogues and the respectful greetings in the market places” (Luke 11:43). She must wonder, “If he can see the hypocritical hearts of those men, what does he see in me?”
Jesus’s preaching from the boat must have hit home in the heart of Mary Magdalene. “Whoever has ears, let them hear” (Mt 13:9). He spoke a parable about the necessity of cultivating the spirit to hear God’s Word. Her heart, once rocky or thorny, was discovering how fertile it could be the more time she spent in the presence of her Messiah. The expulsion of seven demons was a mere beginning. I doubt that Mary Magdalene had any idea how much her life would be transformed as she began to follow Jesus around Galilee and eventually to the foot of the cross in Jerusalem.
Following Jesus may seem like a romantic ideal, until the novelty wears off. I imagine that with the passing of time, Mary Magdalene entertained doubts about continuing her journey with the Lord. But she walked on. Her nickname, “the Magdalene” has its root in the Hebrew word migdal, meaning tower, alluding to the strength and courage she must have had to persevere in walking with Jesus.
What moves the heart of a woman to overcome fear and human respect, remaining steadfast at the cross? Not mere emotion, but rather conviction and love. Only an authentic, maturing love kept Mary Magdalene anchored in her determination to be present with Jesus to the end, while the tumultuous sea of sorrow, confusion, and pain practically drowned her. Awe, wonder, and peace at the site of humanity’s redemption at hand would have to wait until her understanding of God’s plan came to light. In her observation of the bloody disfigurement of her beloved “Rabboni,” horror and anger at the injustice fueled her decision to see him accompanied. She would not abandon him.
I imagine that Mary Magdalene lived the first Holy Saturday in an obscurity of faith. Jesus’s death appeared ignoble and did not paint his disciples in a favorable light among the authorities. But anxiety over what others thought of her was not foremost in Mary Magdalene’s mind. John and the women, with the help of Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, had hastily washed and prepared Jesus’s body for burial as dusk fell on Friday afternoon. Then, impatient waiting loomed over the Sabbath day. The Sabbath day of rest was far from restful as Mary desperately longed to see the Lord once again.
Mary Magdalene’s long journey of conversion, her time of following Jesus, suffering at the foot of the cross, and longing for the Lord in darkness culminates in a surprise revelation from the Lord. At first glance, Mary Magdalene appropriately mistakes Jesus for a gardener, for he is the tender of all God’s gifts in our souls. He is also the Good Shepherd who will soon be recognized when he calls her name, “Mary.” To hear her name spoken by Jesus works wonders within her. Her sorrow turns to joy. According to her, he was lost and now is found. And she dare not lose him again. She throws herself at his feet, clinging to him. She cannot believe her good fortune.
Mary Magdalene jumps at Jesus’s commission to “go to his brethren.” Such a prompt response to Jesus’s call to mission comes from a deep impulse, echoing St. Paul’s profession, “The love of Christ impels me” (2 Cor 5:14). Before St. Paul spoke those words, they were embodied in Mary Magdalene’s missionary enthusiasm. She went to the disciples and proclaimed, “I have seen the Lord!” “But these words seemed to them an idle tale” (Luke 24:11). The simple task of sharing the good news was ill-received by many. Perhaps the apostle to the apostles found solace in the few who did believe. John and Jesus’s mother may have been a comfort to her, encouraging her to continue sharing the good news.
Saints are ordinary people who open themselves to God’s extraordinary action. They discover an interior freedom to love God and others and let themselves be loved in the midst of the messiness of life. They do not wait for ideal circumstances, but live their humanity with grace-filled hearts. They accept the invitation to enter into the dynamics of Christian living, which in turn immerses them into the Paschal mystery of Christ in all its facets.
