Faith in Action
I really had to stop and catch my breath this week.
A few days ago Bill Gates warned that AI is such a potent and dangerous weapon that, if it ends up in the wrong hands, it could cost over a billion people their lives. As I read his perspective, I felt the words race through my body the way frightening things do. First came fear. Then came anger. Then I felt the impulse to say out loud, to no one in particular: Well if that's so, then why don't you and all the other tech billionaires who see this coming form a group, develop some guardrails, go to the president, and say: “We need to protect humanity. Let us help.”
Then there was the Cornell Seven story. There’s so much to say about this one, but it’s especially worth noting that the news came to light because young student journalists recognized that the story wasn't getting the attention it deserved and then worked to bring it to the front page. Their reporting rocked not only their university but the country itself. And it’s a story that is far from over. These young journalists showed us what Architects of Change do. They see a problem and instead of waiting, they do what they can to bring it to light and solve it.
That’s how I felt about Jack Smith’s testimony this week as well. He showed what it’s like to have courage in public life and stand up to a bully. He showed what it means to speak from a place of integrity and to serve a mission larger than oneself: to uncover the truth and hold accountable those who need to be brought to justice.
I also felt hope as I read about the courage of Yaniv Hayoun, who is being hailed a hero after he helped take control of the Flydubai plane that was hijacked en route from Dubai to Tel Aviv. His bravery, as well as that of his fellow passengers who helped subdue the attacker and take control, is something I believe we all hope we’d have in a moment that calls for it like this one.
The highs and lows of life these days—the warnings of peril alongside these signs of courage and hope—have left me feeling both shaken and steadied. They have reminded me how much is at stake, but also how much depends on the choices ordinary people make when they recognize what is at stake.
Again and again, I find myself asking what allows someone to keep going in the face of fear. What gives us the courage to act, the strength to serve, and the hope to believe that our lives can still make a difference? For me, the answer has increasingly been my faith.
My faith has always steadied me, carrying me through every difficult season of my life. I don’t believe it is the answer to every question, nor do I believe everyone needs to share my beliefs. But I do believe it is worth writing about because, in times like these, many of us are searching for something to hold on to. For me, faith has always been that something.
Ever since I was a little girl, the saints, Mother Mary, and God have all taken up a great deal of space in my life. Two deeply religious Catholics raised me and sent our family to Mass every single day. The nuns of the Sacred Heart also educated me and served as some of the most powerful examples I have ever seen of women living with purpose. These nuns were socially conscious, intellectually rigorous, and deeply committed to service. They were out in communities working to better the world, moving humanity forward before that was even a phrase. And they didn’t do it for money, fame, or prestige. They did it simply because it was their calling.
I grew up in their shadow, absorbing their passion and their purpose. They were the ones who recommended the books I read. They were the ones who spoke to me about ministry and mission and service. They were the ones who first introduced me to the lives of the saints that would guide me for the rest of my life.
That brings me to Saint Francis and Saint Clare. I have long admired these two, and I’m deeply moved by the love they shared—a love that always seemed far bigger than ordinary love. Theirs was a partnership that transcended anything I had ever encountered. I used to think to myself: Imagine being part of something like that. A love so rooted in faith and service and shared purpose that it becomes something almost otherworldly.
Saturday marked the 800th anniversary of Saint Francis’s death. And today marks the publication day of an extraordinary new novel called The Passions of Saint Francis, a book I want to share with you today. Not just because it is a beautiful piece of work. But because of the man who wrote it and what he asked me to do before he left this world.
That man was Charles Gaines.
Charles wrote 23 books during his lifetime. I knew him because he wrote Pumping Iron, the book and film that helped launch my former husband Arnold Schwarzenegger into the world. Charles was an adventurer, an artist, an intellectual, a creative, and a spiritual soul. He was also a husband, a father, and a loving and loyal friend.
At the end of July, Charles wrote to me and said, “Maria, I've just completed my greatest piece of work and I’m wondering whether you would share it with your community and your friends. It would mean a lot to me.”
I responded immediately and told him I would not only be happy to share his book, but that I would love to interview him about it as well. I wanted to ask Charles why he had spent so many years researching these two saints and what he wanted us to know about their faith, their love, and their struggle.
He wrote back and said, “There is so much here that resonates with our lives today, but ultimately this is about our search for meaning and what it means to be human.”
Then Charles told me that he would not be able to be interviewed because he had terminal cancer. He said: “I'll be gone from this earth in a week's time. But I hope you will help usher my book into the world. I know you love these two saints. I know faith is a huge pillar in your life. I just hope this book helps guide you forward.”
A week after our exchange, Charles passed away. I have been sitting with his words and his work ever since. A man who spent his final days making sure his greatest work found its way into the world. A man who reached out not to say goodbye but to say: Here, take this. Pass it forward. Let it matter.
That is faith in action. That is a life lived with purpose all the way to the very end.
Reading Charles’s book about Saint Francis and Saint Clare and their struggles made me reflect on my own relationship with God, which has not always been serene. Great love stories never are—whether the love is for a person, a country, a calling, or God.
They are full of detours and darkness and moments when you wonder if you were wrong about everything.
There have been times in my life when I have been furious at God. There have been times when I felt abandoned. Other times I bargained and pleaded and received what felt like silence.
Just this week, I raged because a dear friend's young daughter took her own life. I heard myself cry out: How could this be? How could you let this happen? I don't want to talk to you ever again.
And then the next day I found myself on my knees. Please, I heard myself say. Please help ease my friend's pain. Please be with this family. Please help them.
That is the struggle of faith. That is the struggle of love. That is the struggle of loss.
Francis struggled with God. Clare struggled too. And my friend Charles spent years of his life writing about their struggle because he believed that it’s a struggle worth staying in. He believed that those who stay the course, who remain in the struggle rather than walking away from it, are usually left with something profound to offer. Something that can light the way for another human being who is in the middle of their own dark night. Michelle Gielan also shares this belief. She calls it “resilient optimism” and writes for us this morning about how we can see hard times more clearly and maintain belief that our actions do matter.
That is what great love does, no matter whether it is love of God, love of another person, love of a country, or love of a cause. Great love asks everything of you. And if you stay—if you keep showing up even when it's hard, even when you're angry, even when you can't see the road ahead—this love will give you something you could not have found any other way.
Charles knew that. He spent his last weeks making sure we would know it too.
At the heart of his novel are Francis's three consuming passions: his profound bond with Clare, his devotion to his Franciscan order, and his agonizing relationship with God. It is a book that transcends faith to tell a deeply human story about love, longing, sacrifice, and the search for meaning. Francis and Clare struggled with love, with faith, and with the complexity of being human. And yet they carried on. They never gave up on each other or on the life they were called to live. And 800 years later, their lives are still guiding lights for millions of people.
That is what a life of faith and purpose can do. It can outlast everything. It can reach across centuries and still matter. It can still move someone to catch their breath and remember why they are here. And as three physicians write for us below, the power of spirituality can even help us heal.
So when the news of the day brings me down (and it does, it really does), stories like the lives of Francis and Clare bring me back up. They remind me that fear is not the last word, and that the most powerful forces in human history have not been weapons or algorithms or warnings from billionaires. They have been love. Service. Purpose. Faith in something larger than yourself.
As I get older, I find myself leaning on my faith more than ever. I find myself asking it to accompany me on my path forward. I find myself leaning on it and leaning into it. I find myself looking to it for meaning, purpose, and hope.
Charles understood that a life like Saint Francis’s is needed in moments like this. He spent years researching Francis’s life, and he spent his own final days bringing the story of a man worth admiring into the world at precisely the right moment. With one week left on this earth, Charles wanted to make sure we knew about Francis and about what it means to remain human in a world that can so easily make us lose sight of our humanity.
That is the kind of life worth living. That is the kind of story worth telling.
I promised my friend I would share his book with you, and I am honored to keep that promise today. The Passions of Saint Francis is a gift from a man who gave everything he had to bring it into the world. I hope you will receive it in that spirit.
Read it. Sit with it. And ask yourself—as Charles clearly asked himself all the way to the end—what is the story of your life that will outlast you?
Prayer of the Week
Dear God,
In the moments that test our faith, help me remember the great love you have given me and the responsibility that comes with it. Give me the courage to live with purpose, to serve others, and to leave the world a little better through the life I have been given..
Amen.
Also in this week’s issue:
• The Practice of Resilient Optimism
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