Challenging the Tendency to Cancel: From 'Cabrini' to Christ

Roxane Salonen brings Lenten pondering into her viewing of the Cabrini movie, suggesting we forgo the cultural proclivity to “cancel” and look for the good.

Back on that pivotal day of days on Calvary Hill, the word “cancel” probably wouldn’t have been used, but if we put what happened to Jesus that day in modern terms, we could fairly ascribe the word “cancel” to it, to the nth degree.

The day prior, Jesus was being cheered and celebrated. How fickle we are as humans. It only took a few short hours for the crowds to turn, not just a little, but enough to clamor for his death and get what they screamed for. “Crucify Him!”

Here we are now, the Monday before Easter, or even more precisely, the Monday before Good Friday, for we must go through the dark stuff to get to the light. In my part of the world, where priests are scattered and don’t have quick travel times, we celebrate the Chrism Mass on Tuesday. For that reason, today seems a bit like a nothing day before the more high-powered portion of Holy Week begins.

But if we skip over this day, we’ll miss a chance to collect our ruminations from these many days of Lent. Assisted by my meditation on the crucifix with St. Alphonsus Liguori, I’m inclined to continue turning my head toward that most devastating cancellation of a person in history: that of Jesus the Christ.

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Canceling has become common in our modern world in which digital technologies allow us to state our reflexive, even more than reflective, opinions, tossing them far and wide. The sharper the criticism, the further and faster they seem to spread.

When the film Cabrini was first announced, I was excited to learn more about the woman whose shrine I visited with a good friend in Colorado a few years ago. It was a memorable day in many ways, especially as we fellow mothers carried deep heartaches needing safe release. Climbing together the many steps leading atop the hill where the shrine was located, we talked, prayed, and clung to each other. Many miles have separated us in recent years, and it was an unexpected delight to find ourselves out of breath at the height, yet refreshed in soul by having exchanged our sorrows, and joys, with one another. And then, to be greeted by a glorious formation of clouds near the Divine Mercy statue.

As we entered the chapel, we fell to our knees in prayer. To think that Mother Cabrini had done the same! I hold this memory, of my friend and that day, close.

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So, the calls of “cancelation” of the film from some sectors of the Catholic world caught me off guard. Discernment and truth matter to me, but the negative chants in this case left me even more determined to see the film. I’ve learned, later than I wish, to not put too much stock in the quick opinions of others, even those in my fold, training myself instead to pause and rely on my own interior judgment guided by the divine whisper.

I am encouraged by this quote, attributed to St. John Chrysostom:

If you knew how quickly people would forget about you after your death, you will not seek in your life to please anyone but God.

More and more, I try to peer through the din to find a balanced truth. And so, I gladly secured tickets for the first showing of Cabrini in my city and stayed open to the possibility of good.

Others have provided reviews, so I won’t do that, but if you’re interested in a solid response, I’d recommend Catholic mother and wife Melody Lyons’ reflection. I will say only that I found the movie stunning, from the cinematography to the music to the acting, and the message of truth and triumph in the face of adversity inspiring. My heart was moved. I was reminded of the work of Catholic filmmaker Daniel Bielinski of Canticle Films: fully Catholic, but not blatantly didactic.

As I process all of this, I find the controversy over this film in Catholic circles—mainly claiming it wasn’t Catholic enough—an unnecessary diversion. If you haven’t yet but still might have a chance to see the film, I hope you enjoy its beauty and heart as I did, recognizing the sublimity of a soul who risked her life for Christ, and how each of us has been given this charge uniquely.

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Jesus was cancelled in the most violent way possible, but He kept His focus on His Father’s will and His own undying love for others. If we do the same in these upcoming days, I believe we’ll find Lent edifying and Easter electrifying.

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