F
or years, I had heard great things about Well-Read Mom, a national Catholic women’s book club — but had never had a chance to join. Then last year a friend invited me to the chapter that meets once a month in her home. I was more than ready to dive into discussion of great books with like-minded ladies. As a serious bibliophile, I get a little lonely reading in isolation. I hoped for deep literary discussion with fellow women of faith.
I certainly got it! Since I joined, our club has chewed on everything from Bram Stoker’s “Dracula” to Brother Lawrence’s spiritual classic “The Practice of the Presence of God” to Natalie Morrill’s “The Ghost Keeper,” a recent historical novel set in Nazi-occupied Austria. The variety of books on the Well-Read Mom booklist (plus pre-written discussion questions) definitely set the stage for meaty conversation. Our two-hour meetings never fail to fly by.
RELATED: How to Read Like the Saints
I’ve thoroughly enjoyed Well-Read Mom as an educational exercise and a monthly social event. What has surprised me along the way, though, is its impact on my spiritual life. The ladies in my group have a shared perspective of Catholic faith — but each has her own take on literature. When we all bring our life experiences and theological insights to a book, our book discussion is more than the sum of its parts (or pages).
In fact, listening to each woman’s faith-based take on character development, plot, and literary themes has opened my mind to spiritual truths I wouldn’t have gleaned on my own. During our reading of the St. Francis biography “My God and My All,” for example, I arrived to book club feeling like the saint’s firebrand style was a bit over the top. His hard-core asceticism almost seemed like the medieval version of a social media stunt. But another club member convinced me that St. Francis’ extremism was a necessary wake-up call for the Italian Church of his day. Another book, Leif Enger’s “Peace Like a River,” challenged me to rethink my stance on modern-day miracles. Since our group’s discussion of it, I’m more open to noticing the miraculous in my everyday life.
RELATED: Meeting the Real St. Thomas Aquinas
The book club has also shown me that, sometimes, literature can be a more accessible path to spiritual discussion than Scripture. The Bible is sacred and irreplaceable, of course, but studying it can feel overwhelming or out of our league. Novels and secular books, on the other hand, are lower-stakes material. There’s a lot less pressure interpreting historical fiction through a Catholic lens than trying to wrap our heads around the ancient context of, say, the book of Job. On the other hand, my experience with Well-Read Mom has been a reminder that any book can be interpreted through a Catholic lens.
Perhaps because of this minimal pressure, everyone in our group seems to feel comfortable expressing honest opinions, even if they differ. Unique opinions are welcome (encouraged, even!) so that we can consider a book from all angles. I’m someone who often hesitates to speak my mind for fear of offending — so this freedom has felt profoundly liberating. The ability to disagree respectfully has shown me that standing up for my own beliefs is something to strive for in other areas of my life. Even if I risk offending, I want to be someone who speaks up for truth.
LISTEN: Examining St. Therese of Lisieux’s Autobiography With Fr. Michael-Joseph Paris
Besides the benefits of the discussion itself, being immersed in fellowship with my Catholic sisters never fails to lift my spirit. Whether we’re discussing “Dracula” or the life of a saint, our monthly meeting brings us together in the name of Jesus. We may not all go to the same church or have the same social circle, but coming together once a month has given us a bond I believe glorifies him. To me, it’s the fellowship he promised when he said, “For where two or three have gathered together in my name, I am there in their midst.” (And, if you ask me, when two or three have gathered in his name with books, even better!)
