by Kathryn Lively

Created on: January 12, 2007   Last Updated: May 11, 2007

Frankly, it surprises me not to see more Catholic-themed mystery novels on the market. Mystery is a term almost synonymous with the Faith handed down over thousands of years of tradition and words, our beliefs are steeped in mystery. St. Thomas Aquinas in Summa Theologica refers often to the "mystery of Christ," a life and gift of salvation accepted by those of faith. Our Rosary prayer consists of fifteen 'mysteries,' each of which recalls an event in the lives of Christ and His mother. We read stories of the saints and wonder at some of their achievements. How could St. John Vianney tell exactly who was holding what back in the confessional? How could the stigmata appear on the hands and feet of St. Pio for years, then completely heal on the day of his death? Mysterious, indeed.

I wonder at the term mystery used in such a context, for here it does not necessarily refer to our chosen genre of literature. One might argue that a person of faith would see no mystery in these things, but accept them for what they are. Vianney's divination and Pio's reenactment of the wounds at Calvary were God-given, one will aver. The bread and wine turn into the Body and Blood of Christ at Mass because God is God and Christ is Christ, and when Christ said 'Do this in memory of Me,' we do it. End of story. End of mystery. The faithful mind accepts what the skeptical will question, though it does not mean all the faithful are not without questions.

I am a faithful Catholic, accepting of Christ's gifts and teachings. Yet part of being faithful, however, involves being ever vigilant. To some extent I believe in miracles, and the possibility that things can happen which cannot be explained without bringing Divine intervention to the table. That I have managed to complete five novels, two published and two others, as of this writing, under contract, is a miracle, considering five years ago I could barely finish a chapter without eventually dragging the Microsoft Word document icon towards the trash can on my PC screen.

I would read the works of Winona Sullivan and her endearing nun sleuth, Sister Cecile, and Sister Carol Anne O'Marie's Sister Mary Helen and ask myself why I, despite the praise and encouragement of writing teachers and family, could not complete a mystery. I decided I needed inspiration, a muse, Divine intervention. I needed a gentle nudge from an archangel to guide my pen. I prayed constantly for a miracle, or at the very least a spark of inspiration. I had not anticipated

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