Agnese Janaro's Confirmation: A Father's Thoughts

Father and daughter at the reception

Agnese Janaro received the sacrament of Confirmation this past weekend. She took the name of St. Isaac Jogues (yes, you can pick a saint of either gender). She had read about him and was (no doubt) deeply impressed by his extraordinary Christian witness (who wouldn't be?), but she hasn't said much about why she chose him in particular. I am happy to respect her discretion.

I tease my poor girl too much. I want her to be confident that she can grow and have aspirations and try new things without thinking that her father is going to find out and start joking around and making her feel silly. Or that he's going to write about her adventures on his BLOG!

We love her so very much!

A little teasing, now and then, won't hurt her of course. She has her own sense of humor, and a heart inspired by courageous deeds. She is a marvel, and God is shaping her heart in His mysterious ways.

I spoke with her briefly the day before, because I wanted to express simply how much it meant to me in my own life to meet Jesus, to discover Him as a real Person, and to live a relationship with Him with all my desire. This is what matters in my life.

So I said a few awkward words. But more important than any words: does she see this in me, in the way I live the circumstances of my life as her mother's husband, as her father? Does she see this in the way I struggle every day with my disability and the limits it imposes on me; or in my struggles to overcome my sense of frustration and failure, and to battle against my own forgetfulness and the weight of selfishness and my countless petty faults? Does she see that (even with all my goofiness) He is the One who enables me to love her, and is the reason why I love her so much? Do I help her to see, not just in words but in real life, that He is real and He is here and that He loves us all? Do I help her to see that she can trust in His love?

I hope and pray that my life bears some witness to the real Jesus. The most important thing, of course, is that He is already here, with us, with her, already shaping her heart in His mysterious ways. This is the depths of her "self," this relationship that does not belong to me. God is her Father. Jesus and the Holy Spirit open her heart to this love.

But I have been given my own part to play, and I must carry it out in whatever circumstances. I must have the faith that gives me the confidence to get up again and again whenever I fail, and to thus witness through my life that His mercy sustains me.

His mercy is always worthy of trust.

No Answer Except Love

We have to admit that life opens up a lot of questions. A living relationship with Jesus, however, encompasses and carries us even in our struggles with questions and problems.

There are times when my own questions are expressions of resistance; they come from the places in my soul that I have not yet opened to God. They are attempts to hide from the recognition of my own sins, because I forget that I have been made to receive the mercy of God, that He wants to fill my emptiness with His love. Or else I am too proud to admit that I am empty, and I deprive myself of the beauty of experiencing forgiveness. For what?

There are other kinds of questions, genuine and mysterious ones. I have frustration when I feel like I perceive some truth, but I don't know how to communicate with others. I feel misunderstood by others, or I am restless with the "in a glass, dark" obscurity that always accompanies faith, and that seems to grow deeper even as the experience of faith increases. I have a faith that seeks understanding, and this is a gift, but how can I acknowledge it for what it is while also bearing its limits?

And then there are the daily, very ordinary trials of trying to live with other people, especially my brothers and sisters in Christ. There is nothing romantic about Christian community. Its human, its hard, its a clash of stubborn souls with so many wounds that we hide from ourselves and one another. Trying to understand these issues only aggravates them. My mind weaves pretexts for opposition, ideologies for self defense or partisanship, or shallow evasions.

What is the point of these questions? What does Jesus want?

Sometimes Jesus wants to change my heart and sometimes He is asking me to recognize and embrace Him in His suffering, precisely in those issues, in the frailty of myself and others and our sins - this brokenness that He enters and endures, and that has no "answer" except Love.

I believe that Love happens right there. Love happens wherever the pain is, or the incomprehension, or the weakness, the resistance, the secret pride.

Love happens also in the awful burden of the gift of insight, and the patience required to understand what it means, to be humbled by the utter smallness of anything I think I understand, to learn from others who have other gifts, and to discover how to share what I have been given.

I know these difficulties are really for me -- they are places of God's love for me -- because I encounter the Cross in them. The Crucified One is there for me, and of course I hide from Him 99.9999% of the time.

I'm proud. And I'm afraid of the suffering.

But He calls me to let go of my pride, and to acknowledge my sins and experience my need for Him.

"O Lord, I am proud. Make me humble! Give me the grace to be humble and poor, with a heart open to receive Your love and be changed by You!"

He calls me to be not afraid, to trust in Him, to stay with Him and suffer, and that especially is how He wants to change me, and how He has (I hope) already begun to change me.

Sometimes He answers our questions (in part), but always He suffers them in us and calls us to join Him in that suffering.

I am a Rich Man Who Must Beg

How hard it is for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.

I am a rich man. Our family is rich in material possessions and conveniences, in spite of what in the United States of America would be considered our precarious financial circumstances. I could scarcely manage without all the comforts of this fully industrialized and electronically developed society. I do not know where the clothes on my back or the food I eat or the furniture in my home come from, nor what web of unjust socioeconomic relationships govern the paths they travel from their places of origin to my home. I do not know what I or my family can do about the injustice in the world, but it is a reminder to pray to God that the relationships which are within the reach of our freedom may be founded on justice, solidarity, love, and mercy. And it is a reminder that we need to ask the Holy Spirit to transform our minds and open our hearts to the creative possibilities that God gives us to contribute to the common good.

I am a rich man in other ways too. There are riches that I possess in abundance, and that are very much at my disposal: the wealth of talent, capacity for expression, education, and experience in teaching others. I would like to think that here I have given liberally, that I have shared myself, that I have poured out these riches in love. But the truth is that even here I hoard my wealth. It is with these personal riches especially that Jesus says, "Go, sell all you have...follow me."

How much of my "giving" is really self-advancement? Very much, I fear. Images from the gospels resonate with my life: I love the special seats at gatherings, and being called rabbi. I love praying and performing religious acts for people to see, and--I hope--to applaud. I love to show my misery to the world so that everyone knows that I am suffering. It's such a sweet thing to be admired.

And so I have my "reward." I remain rich. I am a fool and a hypocrite. Even this confession of pharisaical behavior right now is really something of a scam; deep down there is that part of me that craves your admiration for my candor. Don't trust me! I don't trust myself!

The flaw, the twist, the self-love, the grasping seem to be a little mixed in with so much of what I do. And so it is, for human flesh and blood. "Forgive us our trespasses," we are taught to pray every day. The assumption, of course, is that we are going to trespass. Jesus doesn't want us to obsess over our faults, but to ask for the Father's mercy, and to be formed according to His will in the school that is this life: "Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven."

So we fail, and God is rich in mercy. But there is a special way that we must ask for God's mercy, and that is with the humility of hearts that are themselves merciful. "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us." Here Jesus sums up life. We sin. But others also sin against us. We are hurt. We are betrayed. We are the victims of injustice. We are neglected. But we must forgive others. We must be people of mercy. This is not easy. This is where I experience my powerlessness. Here I must really "sell all I have" and give it away. Here is where following Christ begins. Here is where true riches are to be found.

How can I be merciful to others? I must ask God to enable me to be merciful to others. Everything begins in the position of prayer and poverty before God. Another word for this kind of poverty is trust.

It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.

Now Peter is very perceptive at this point. He cries out, "then who can be saved?" It is more than a matter of economics, although on this level it is important to remember that there are, on the whole, two kinds of people: those who are rich, and those who want to be rich. On the personal level, however, everyone is "rich"--even if all he possesses is "himself." Because we must lose our very selves for His sake.

"For man it is impossible," Jesus says. So we can't trust in our own riches. We can't trust in ourselves!

"But nothing is impossible with God." So return, again and again, to that posture of begging for mercy, and that posture of trust because the God who does the impossible has given Himself to us. He wants to and He will transform us into people of compassion, people who give themselves away, people who follow Him and in Him discover the only true treasure, His Love.

I am a hypocrite and a fool, but I know that God's Mercy is true, and I want it, and I beg for it from God--I beg for it for myself and for the whole world. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have Mercy on me, a sinner.

Trust in Him in Front of Every Person

In Pope Francis we see a twofold and entirely consistent passion for evangelization and dialogue. Not only is there no contradiction between preaching the truth of Christ and walking with human persons in mutual understanding and love. They are in fact two facets of God's plan to pour out His love and mercy upon the world.

It is the great gift that Jesus has given us in recreating the human race as God's family, wherein God is truly "our Father" and we are really brothers and sisters. This brother/sisterhood is something we know from the life of faith. It is established and vivified in a concrete and visible way through the sacrament of baptism. In baptism we are reborn; eternal life begins in us, and we are able to begin to live this life together in a way that the whole world can see through the great communio of the Church.

Moreover, belonging to Jesus opens our eyes to the fact that we are brothers and sisters of every human person, because every person has been created by our Father's love and has been truly redeemed by Jesus. In becoming human and dying on the Cross, He has embraced every human person right down to their very unique, personal, mysterious depths.

This means of course that we want the whole world to know Him. It also means that we have profound respect for every human person in the intimate dialogue between God's love and their freedom. We witness to Jesus with clarity, consistency, and without tiring; but not because we want to impose our particular culture or ideology on anyone. We witness because we know that He is the meaning and fulfillment of everything. But He does not "belong" to us, as though He were some pretext for our self-exaltation, superiority, and condescension toward others. He does not belong to us; we belong to Him. The fruits of our testimony are entrusted to the mysterious ways of the God who loves and shapes all hearts.

That is why proclaiming the truth of Christ's love for all peoples and for every human being also entails living as true brothers and sisters in this present moment with all those who have been given to us, wherever they come from. We don't need to put Christ and the Church aside to do this. On the contrary, we are called to live and extend faithfully this mystery of Christ's redeeming love wherever we go throughout the world. Thus we seek to live together with everyone in good will, to walk together, to help one another, to listen to and learn from one another about the mystery and struggles of our lives and the inexhaustible longing of our hearts. We live with and love one another always as brothers and sisters.

It is precisely Jesus Himself who makes this life possible. We place our trust in Him in front of every person. We bear witness to that trust by the grace of the Spirit, who inspires our manner of witness according to the steps that Jesus wills to take through us in order to make Himself known in the context of various circumstances and factors of life that are beyond our human knowledge. We bear witness to Him with words that foster understanding and express our own conviction, but always we must beg for the grace to allow His love to be present and to communicate itself through our lives.

And Jesus will give us the freedom to love persons in an exceptional way, and to appreciate the uniqueness of each and every one of them with profound tenderness. He will enable us to affirm with gratitude and to learn from all of the truth, goodness, and beauty that they possess from their religious and cultural heritages, and from their own experiences and understanding of life. He will give us a great compassion for their failures, and a humility about ourselves and the vocation that we all experience, which is to give ourselves in love, and to make room in our hearts so that we can let ourselves be loved.

We must neither impose our faith nor hide it for the sake of some imagined unity. Jesus Himself has established and is building up the unity of the human family, and He calls us in this present life -- in the face of so many obstacles -- to cultivate that unity in truth and love, trusting always in Him.

Her Own Library Card!

There are many rites of passage in the life of a child. The library is one of the first social institutions to recognize a child's capacity to assume responsibility. But they use a lot of big words that are surely beyond the child's understanding. Little people make big commitments, and its a good thing that we are there to back them up.

"Look, Daddy, I got my own library card!"

Josefina is all signed up! :)

Thus another Janaro kid enters the System, and agrees to "accept responsibility...policies and procedures...transactions...and fees incurred...." Got all that, Josefina?

Teach Me to Let Myself Be Loved By You

He comes close

and gives us His love with tenderness.

Closeness and tenderness!

The Lord loves us in these two ways,

He draws near and gives all His love

even in the smallest things:

with tenderness.

And this is a powerful love,

because closeness and tenderness

reveal the strength of God’s love.

It is more difficult to let God love us

than to love Him!

The best way to love Him in return

is to open our hearts and let Him love us.

Let Him draw close to us

and feel Him close to us.

This is really very difficult:

letting ourselves be loved by Him.

And that is perhaps what we need to ask

today in the Mass:

"Lord, I want to love You,

but teach me the difficult science,

the difficult habit

of letting myself be loved by You,

to feel You close

and feel Your tenderness!"

May the Lord give us this grace.

Pope Francis,

Homily for Feast of the Sacred Heart

Read selected quotations from the Pope's daily homilies at the Vatican Radio website.

"Joining the Club" is Not Enough: I Want Brothers and Sisters

St. Benedict, patron of the Fraternity. This image
doesn't imply any endorsement by the Fraternity of
any of the nonsense in this blog post. The words here
are entirely due to the (lack of) responsibility of me.

I mentioned last week that my wife and I were able to attend the annual retreat/Spiritual Exercises of the Fraternity of Communion and Liberation held for our region of the United States. It was really good for both of us on a lot of levels. We got to see many good friends that we don't see often, since no one from the Fraternity lives near us. We were also reminded of why we continue to be attached more deeply to the Church through this charism.

What I've written here are not polished reflections at all. This is rough stuff that is being left largely as I wrote it on first draft, before beginning to study the written texts from the Exercises, which is a work that we continue throughout the year. I still have much to discover and clarify (and reconsider) so as to express these points more precisely.

The grace of the charism of CL witnesses to a crucial aspect of what it means to live as members of one another in Christ, journeying together toward our common destiny of eternal life and love in the Trinity. Its so easy, as Catholics, to have a moment in which we recognize, "this is the road for our journey!" But then we walk that road like we are strangers to one another.

I have a very hard time with that. For me, the road is so weird and I get lost all the time, or go around in circles. I can't do this alone. I need something more than polite fellow-travelers on this trip.

I've studied "the road" for 30 years, and I've prayed, and this has been a good thing. But its like studying food and learning about cooking. The cookbooks tell me all about food and what to do with it, but they don't actually give me any food. And I'm hungry right now. Studying cooking just makes me more hungry. I want to eat... at least something.

Prayer of course nourishes, but it also mysteriously deepens the hunger. If my prayer is authentic, then it will lead me to discover ever more profoundly just how needy and poor I really am.

So where can I go? The Church ...what do I find in a parish? Activities and groups. That's okay, but its not enough. After its over, I get into my car and drive back to my lonely fortress. Is that what the New Testament calls "the fellowship of disciples"?

What about just giving up my mind and my freedom to some "Catholic dictator" who just tells me what to think and what to do and relieves me of the awful burden of being a human person? I must admit that this option can be very tempting. "Conformity" and "comfort," disguised as obedience, could shape my notions and my behavior into a formulaic routine, and give me a sense of superiority, but they would also also suffocate my heart -- that depth of me that says, "I am someone, I have been made for a reason, I have aspiration, I have hope, I don't just want to be reduced to a 'part' of a project, not even the cosmic project!"

What else is there for me? Can I exalt my aloneness and say, "I'm gonna do what I want and just blow off everybody else"? For me, personally, that's the short path to the psych ward. Others seem to get by with this attitude, except that its really crummy for their spouses (who often become ex-spouses) and their children and anyone else who needs them or tries to care about them.

I don't want to be alone. I need people. Clubs and the internet are not enough. Being part of the collective just covers up the loneliness. There's a lot missing even from the experience of being in dedicated Catholic groups that work together for the good of the Church. People can share an activity (even passionately) without sharing their lives. Passion for the cause can become a cover for not acknowledging the poverty of my person, for not sharing myself, for not loving and for not being honest about my own vulnerability, my own need to be loved.

I can even "belong" to a "movement," and wear it like a badge, and conform myself to its external style, and do all the "stuff," and still not invest myself. I can cover up the fact that I'm poor and that I need God. I can hide it from others, and from myself.

And I can write about this whole subject, but really be trying to avoid it. I'm saying, "See, I know about my need for Christian community, and I'm helping others to discover that too... so I 'get it,' obviously. That means that you, my friend, don't have bother me, okay? So go away!"

Its true that I don't want people meddling in my life. There is a reason for this fear. So often in life, my experience has been that people come along, stand on their platform, rebuke me, and then leave! That happens so much. It even happens in movements. It certainly happens in marriages. We live alone. Then we come out to "help" one another every so often. Then we go back to being alone.

I don't want to belong to a group of people who just correct my behavior and call me "brother," but don't actively love me. That's not the Church. That's manipulation. That's a fundamentalist sect. Its just another form of power imposing itself upon the weak.

When we talk about our relationship within the Church, we use these terms: "brothers and sisters." Why? Are we just being nice? Why this metaphor, or even better, is it just a metaphor? The Church is our Mother. Baptism is a new birth. We are brothers and sisters and more, members of each other and members of Christ's body.

Is all this just "Christianspeak"? I hope not! Because this is what I want! I want brothers and sisters. I want a family. I want to belong to God, to call Him "Father," and to have the freedom to be with others in my life and say, "I am your brother" and "you are my brother, you are my sister, you help me just by the fact that we are together, you help me even when you fail or forget. We are together in Him. We help each other to follow Him to the place where our hearts will all finally be at home."

I run away from this myself, every day. It scares me to death (why is that?). But its still what I really want.

"The Janaro Family" Turns Sixteen Years Old

John Paul at maybe three or four months old.

So do you have a little baby in the house? On June 1, 1997 we had our first little baby at three o'clock in the morning. I guess I'm supposed to say something like, "Gee, it feels like it just happened yesterday!"

Actually, no. It doesn't feel that way at all. It was, in fact, sixteen years ago. Since then, I've lived half my adult life (note, I said "adult" life, which was preceded by 18 years of "pre-adult" life... you don't need to do the math). Four daughters have come after him, and many things have happened since then.

Sometimes I'll come across a book and realize that its been 16 years since the last time I read it. That feels unusual. Light in August by William Faulkner... I just read that recently, didn't I? No, actually, I was reading it while we were waiting for John Paul to be born. That seems like "yesterday."

John Paul at the age of sixteen.

But with my son there is a relationship. There has been a certain intersubjectivity* (n.b. *large philosophical word) between father and son, and with the other members of the family. It is the history of a relationship and a larger context of relationships that has grown and changed from year to year. My own childhood years seem very long in my memory. In a way, his years seem long too, at least when I think of the time in terms of our relationship and the subsequent development of our family up until the present.

John Paul was born like a little boxer, shaking his fists and wailing but also looking me straight in the eye with what appeared to be a sense of awareness and intelligence. Smart little feller.

He was the beginning of our family. He was the one who made me look at myself for the first time and say, "I'm a father." It put fear and trembling into me.

We're all growing together. At every point, I feel a more profound sense of helplessness: "How am I going to be a father to this (these) child (children)?" Somehow, Eileen and I have found the resources for every stage thus far. We are flawed parents raising flawed children, but we are also blessed and lifted up by grace and carried all along the way.

What does a father do? I don't have a clear "formula;" its a gift that keeps unveiling itself. A father loves his wife, and is grateful for her. He spends a lot of time on his knees begging God for help. He tries to teach and love and discipline with a trust in the grace of vocation and the providence that makes a family, as well as a healthy awareness of the "organic" reality that nurtures, in time, both interrelationships and the individual uniqueness of each person in a family. He never gives up on paternal tenderness, even when he fails every day. He prays together with the family. He prays alone, for the family. He prays and works with his wife, and trusts above all in the grace of Jesus present through the sacrament they share in marriage.

He is aware of the failures of his children, he is patient, he instructs, he corrects, but always he forgives. He does his best to be a man, but doesn't try to prove his manhood in some artificial way, and doesn't get insecure about his own weaknesses, because everyone is weak... (and fathers will be confronted with their human weaknesses in so many ways). He doesn't withdraw or hide. He just keeps getting up again, and keeps working on it.

Change is Like Brain Surgery

Here comes the summer. I have a very hard time with changes in routine. I keep to my own routine as much as possible, but the rest of the household is shifting. School is over. The weather is flipping over into summer mode, hot and humid.

The office actually just looks like any other office

Thanks to the Montessori Center, I felt like I had something of a school year this past nine months. That was good, even if it was tiring.

Now the Center is moving, so I have to say goodbye to the office furniture (which is not ours) and hope that the new place has as good a chair for me. More changes.

For an obsessive person, change is like brain surgery. Okay, that's a bit strong. But changes in routine require some kind of neurological "rewiring" process, and they affect all of one's carefully constructed coping strategies. Focusing the mind on certain things (and taking it away from obsessive preoccupations) is a daily battle. Habits of thinking -- or rather, of processing one's environment -- are acquired, but changes require new adjustments or even starting from scratch.

I'm also trying to manage another physical downturn. Lately I've had some pain returning. My usually comfortable chair is sometimes uncomfortable now. I spend more time in bed during the day, often in the afternoon.

But these changes aren't so big.

John Paul turns 16 years old. He's probably going to work this summer. Work. A job.

Yeah, the kids are changing too. That's good. I have to rewire my brain for that, but I'll do it because they need me to function. I can't beat up on myself without hurting them, and I'm determined not to hurt them.

I'm determined to help them. I'm determined to live with changes.

We Plant, We Water, but God Gives the Growth

The front of the Abbey chapel, with stone wall. Everything is crafted well, simply and carefully.

The good things come slowly.

I am featuring again a picture from the grounds of my favorite monastery, Holy Cross Abbey (Cistercians) in Berryville, Virginia. Monks know that good comes from silence, perseverance, the repetition of the same simple gestures, dedication to prayer day by day, month by month, year by year. They know the labor of sowing seeds that others may reap.

I am impatient about good things. I want them fast. I want my acorns to spring into fully formed oak trees. I want my prayers answered, NOW! I forget that one of God's favorite ways of answering a prayer is, "Ask Me again tomorrow."

Occasionally a good thing bursts upon us in a dramatic and sudden manifestation. God knows we need this sometimes or our weak, distracted nature would lose sight of the good altogether. But even when God works miracles, His deep message to us is, "Trust Me."

The good things grow slowly, with patience and care, if necessary with healing and correction.

So let us not lose patience. Sometimes it seems as if fire rains down on the earth. We feel overwhelmed. But let us tend this little piece of ground, this life that has been given us. Let us sow our seed and tend our shoots with fidelity and dedication to the task in front of us. God will give the growth.

The good things come slowly. But they are the things that endure.

God in the Midst of the Storm

Everything is grace. St. Therese is famous for saying this, and I have reflected upon it previously. When we're deep in anguish, however, things can seem very obscure. We may feel angry with God, and we have to open up that anger so that it can become a cry for help, and a reaffirmation of hope that is real even if its desperate or rough and clumsy and full of pain.

Hope. Some people find a voice for their pain in places in Scripture, like the Psalms of lament (such as Psalms 13, 39, 42, 57, 70, 77, 139, 142). Its only reasonable to seek medicine for our souls, and we will often find help. We can draw deep courage from the Church: the Scriptures, the liturgy, the sacraments, the testimony of Christian witnesses, the charity and solidarity of our brothers and sisters in Christ. The Church is a home with many rooms for the weary.

Still, we should not be frustrated even when there seems to be no place for us, when nothing consoles us and we feel pushed into isolation. Sometimes our own suffering can only be endured as a secret prayer with words too deep for our understanding. We can only be with Jesus in these times, and this is enough. What we must not do, however, is choose to turn away from God and into self-seclusion. Hang on to Jesus and don't let go!

There are times when a simple reflection on God's goodness is what we need. The simple wisdom that we may have so often heard before can suddenly become a great light in the darkness.

I do believe that if we understood the mystery of our lives, we would see that everything really is "grace." Everything is enfolded in the Father's loving plan for each one of us. If God allows something bad to happen to us, He permits it because He wants to bring a greater good out of it; He wants to lead us through these struggles to a deeper and more mature life.

And this is important: He always gives us the strength to live it, to endure it, to grow through it. God doesn't always give us things that feel good, but He always gives us what we really need. That includes the grace that enables us to ask Him for help, to recognize that we need Him and are totally dependent on Him.

We don't ultimately know ourselves, or the mystery of the whole person God wills each of us to become. And when bad things happen, God doesn't usually show us (at least, not at the time) the purpose of these events in our journey to our destiny. We have to trust Him.

Trust is a decision; it is a position of the heart in the midst of the storm. It does not depend on how we feel, and it may not make us feel any better. It usually doesn't make the bad circumstance disappear. But trust makes our hearts grow. We must trust God (I often tell people) even if we can only do it through gritted teeth.

Years later, we can sometimes catch a reflection from the light of this mysterious growth. As we get older and look back on life, we can say, "I'm so grateful for that whole experience. I wouldn't be the person I am today if all of that had not happened." Such memories encourage us to continue to trust.

Always we return to the same theme: Trust. Trust in Jesus. Lord Jesus, give me the grace to trust in You. Make this trust the foundation and the shape of my heart, the position of my heart in the midst of every storm.

Whaddiya Mean "Never Give Up"?

I have probably said this before, but its worth repeating: NEVER GIVE UP means something very particular on this page, as you know if you've been reading these posts, or if you've read JJ's book (click here to learn more about the book).

It does not mean "keep banging our heads against the wall." It does not mean a mindless perseverance in the wrong direction, for an impossible project or a dangerous illusion. Here by all means we should give up, or even better, "get back on track"! At least, we can cry "help" and let ourselves be rescued.

We must "let go" of problems that we cannot resolve, and entrust their solution to others.

Certainly, we must "give up" things and places and even persons that are destructive to us. Alcoholics need to give up drinking. Diabetics need to give up certain foods. Gambling addicts need to give up going to the casino, and they need to give up hanging around with people who go to casinos all the time. We all need to give up our selfish pride, our grudges, and our many bad habits.

People who are just being stubborn in the face of facts need to give up their false sense of control. They need to give up, give in, and let go.

Our phrase never give up is clearly not meant to indicate a naively optimistic outlook. It is not a cliche for a superficial self-confidence. What, then, does it mean? It means....

Never Give Up on life.

Never Give Up on reality, on the meaning and goodness of reality, .

Never Give Up on the journey that is your own life, and the conviction that there is a destination, even if you don't see it or understand it now.

Never Give Up on the fundamental needs of your heart (which is a human heart): the need for truth, goodness, beauty, love, justice, solidarity, happiness.

Never Give Up on your destiny. You are made "for" Something. Keep searching and don't settle for anything less.

Never Give Up on the Mystery that makes you, and sustains you and all things in being... the Mystery that your heart longs for and that everything points to... because everything cries out, "we are made by a Goodness, a Beauty, a Love that is real."

Never Give Up asking for what you truly need, and hoping to receive as gifts the things you know you can't give to yourself.

Never Give Up begging to see the face of the Mystery.

Never Give Up the struggle to be human. Keep searching for the path, for the next step. Ask for what you need, grab whatever is there and use it as best you can, be grateful for what is given to you, and keep hoping, no matter what.

Never Give Up on the Promise that has been whispered within your heart. You are made for love. You are made to be free. You are made to receive an awesome gift. This gift, even now, can heal you, change you, lift you up, satisfy your endless thirst. Never be discouraged.

Truth is Not My Possession

Instead of laying in bed all weekend, I went with Eileen to the annual Spiritual Exercises of the Fraternity of Communion and Liberation. I wore myself out even more, but it was worth it. Some things you just have to do. I don't know how to rest anyway, so I might as well burn out following Christ, rather than by endlessly spinning my own wheels.

More on this beautiful weekend later. Some recent words from Pope Francis (Audience of May 15) are worth recalling here. Truth is not my possession. It is an encounter with a Person. Benedict XVI also said (as I recall it from memory), "it is not that we have the truth; rather, the truth has us."

At the end of these selections there is a simple prayer to the Holy Spirit that the Pope proposes to us. Let us not dismiss these words as unremarkable because they are so humble. This prayer has been given to us. Let us make it our own.

"Jesus is exactly this: the Truth that, in the fullness of time, 'became flesh,' and came to dwell among us so that we might know it. The truth is not grasped as a thing, the truth is encountered. It is not a possession, it is an encounter with a Person."

"Then, as Jesus promised, the Holy Spirit guides us 'into all the truth' (Jn 16:13); not only does he guide us to the encounter with Jesus, the fullness of the Truth, but he also guides us “into” the Truth, that is, he makes us enter into an ever deeper communion with Jesus, giving us knowledge of all the things of God. And we cannot achieve this by our own efforts. Unless God enlightens us from within, our Christian existence will be superficial."

"This is a prayer we must pray every day:

      Holy Spirit,

      make my heart open to the word of God,

      make my heart open to goodness,

      make my heart open to the beauty of God

      every day."

Observing "Lyme Disease Awareness Month" in Virginia

I almost forgot to note that May is "Lyme Disease Awareness Month" in the great State of Virginia. The symbol for Lyme awareness is a lime green ribbon. Hmmmm. I guess I've never been much into the "Lyme-lime" thing. It seems (to me anyway) like an uncomfortable color, and I'm not looking for any more discomfort than I already have.

I heard that the governor's mansion was lit up one night the color of "lime" as part of this promotion.

Wow. Its a little late for me, unfortunately, but its progress, I guess. Slowly, the ice is breaking and people are discovering that this is a complicated problem. Its one of numerous complicated problems that may drive the medical profession to new levels of attention and creativity. Eventually.

Virginia is waking up, mostly because Lyme disease is clearly rampant here in its most obvious form. So people know to check their kids for ticks after they've been playing in the grass or the woods. People know to keep their eyes open for the acute symptoms that sometimes signal the infection. Doctors do the basic tests, and now they are required by state law to tell patients that these tests are... umm... not necessarily accurate. Huh? Oh dear....

Virginians are waking up to the fact that, for some people, Lyme and other tick borne illnesses can cause long term serious problems. There is still a lot of disagreement, however, about what should be done to help them. And a lot of ignorance.

My idea is that the symbol for "Lyme disease awareness" ought to look something like this:

Running from patient to patient, many doctors don't have much time for individual cases. They want to see the rash, get the test results, and write the prescription. Its fast and busy treatment for a fast and busy world.

Who wants to even think about nasty, tricky bacteria that refuse to die?

Anyway, it would appear that lots of folks are able to "beat it" with the standard prompt antibiotic treatment. Others never experience these symptoms at all, as far as they know. But there are some who end up in a struggle with a whole spectrum of health problems that range from annoying to debilitating to lethal. I know these people, and I know their stories.

I am one of these people.

But I would be a bad poster boy for "Chronic Lyme disease" because of all my other health problems. We spent more than ten years and kerfwaddles of money both inside and outside the conventional medical box, trying to make me better. In the last several years we seem to have found a delicate balance of lifestyle, stress levels, medication, diet, and a whole bag of tricks that keep me (most of the time) in the "sorta okay" range.

For now, we are going with this balance, which requires plenty of care and attention to maintain. In the present moment, it is a condition that my wife and I can embrace, along with our family, as we move forward. And I am challenged to find creative ways to put my talents to use for the good, within the limitations of what remains a complex physical and mental disability. The Lyme bacteria are only part of my problem.

But Chronic Lyme has other faces.

There are plenty of normal, lively people who play sports and are full of energy and blooming mental health, until they really get hit hard with this strange-disabling-thing-that-doesn't-go-away. Then they embark upon "the Odyssey" of denial and misdiagnosis, and treatments and therapies of many diverse kinds. They have many weird adventures as they try to return to their former good health. Some people, however, also encounter cutting-edge science and heroic, pioneering medical professionals who are developing models of medical practice that make the particular human person the center of their attention.

Awareness of the person is what we all need most.

I Need Other People

I'm run down lately (it happens, and I'm used to it). I'm not writing much right now, but rather than deprive you of a chance to read, I'll recycle. Here's a post from May 2011. Still true, two years later.

I need other people in my life.

I know there are those who are called to be hermits. But even they are not "alone," if they offer their solitude for the salvation of the world. But that is a special and mystical kind of life.

I need other people, in the most ordinary, human sense of the term. I am a weak and afflicted man, constantly in need of being reminded that I am loved, but more importantly, constantly in need of others to remind me of my vocation to love. I am naturally introspective and easily wrapped up in myself. It is not a place where I want to be, but I don't know how to get out by myself.

The way to get beyond myself is love. And the invitation to love, for me, usually comes from other people. I pray to God and I try to love God, but it is too easy for me to forget about God -- even while praying -- and get wrapped up in some imaginary "God" that is the product of my own circular thinking. How easily prayer can become a monologue and a worrying session. Of course, I know God is there; He accepts anything that we even try to give Him and lovingly turns it toward the good. Still, if life was just me by myself with my prayers, I would be a sad and lonely and atrophied person.

Throughout the day, the summons to love comes from other people. I can't do this thing called "life" by myself. I don't think I could even keep my sanity, much less attain my destiny. These other people are first and above all my wife and family, but also everyone who has been given to me in my circumstances -- people who depend on me, and on whom I depend. They turn me "outwards" with all of that intensity and perceptiveness of my personality. And so I am focused on affirming and helping others instead of analyzing and devouring myself.

It is also a tremendous blessing to be able to write in a context in which I know that someone is going to read my words. Writing could easily degenerate into a self-absorbed exercise were it not for the desire to communicate, and the realization -- thanks to this medium -- that communication will in fact be achieved, and that the words written here will be found useful by others.

 

[...which is to say, if you are reading this now, I thank you. You are a help to me, and I am grateful. I am humbled. Thank you for this gift of your attention. And don't say, "its nothing," because its not nothing. You are a person, and reading is a way of listening. It is a gift of self. That's how human things are. Thank you. Update 5/22/2013]

Many complex motivations, of course, arise in relationships with other people. But when relationships and communication strive outward, for truth, goodness, and beauty, they become the path for the freedom and transcendence of the person. Whether face to face or in writing, they embody the giving and receiving of love that is the mystery of God's own life and the means by which He draws us to Himself.

Herman and Bruno: The Sock Puppet VIDEO!!!

Well, there's nothing much for me say here. Introducing Herman (orange) and Bruno (green), the Sock Puppets, with their handlers (literally) Josefina and Teresa.

Sit back and enjoy the show, including exclusive interviews!

Pentecost: The Spirit Sends Us Forth

     "This is the precious gift

     that the Holy Spirit places in our hearts:

     the very life of God,

     life as true sons,

     a relationship of confidence, freedom

     and trust in the love and mercy of God,

     which has as an effect also a new gaze

     towards others, near and far,

     always seen as brothers and sisters in Jesus

     to be respected and loved.

     "The Holy Spirit teaches us

     to look with the eyes of Christ,

     to live life as Christ lived it,

     to understand life as Christ understood it.

     That's why the living water

     that is the Holy Spirit

     quenches the thirst of our lives,

     because it tells us

     that we are loved by God as children,

     that we can love God as his children

     and by his grace we can live

     as children of God, like Jesus.

     "And we, we listen to the Holy Spirit?

     What does the Holy Spirit tell us?

     God loves you.

     He tells us this.

     God loves you,

     He desires your good.

     Do we really love God and others,

     like Jesus does?

     Let us allow ourselves

     to be guided by the Holy Spirit,

     let us allow Him to speak to our hearts

     and tell us this:

     that God is love,

     that He is waiting for us,

     that God is the Father,

     he loves us as a true Father,

     he truly loves us and only the Holy Spirit alone

     says this to our hearts.

     Let us hear the Holy Spirit,

     let us listen to the Holy Spirit

     and let us go forward on this road of love,

     of mercy and of forgiveness."

     Pope Francis

Meet Herman, the Sock Puppet

I think the best thing I can do for you today is introduce you to Herman, the Sock Puppet!

*Applause*

"Herman" is a genuine, hand made sock puppet, which means that he is (are you
ready for this) an actual sock that has been augmented by cut pieces of fabric
and some accessories and plenty of glue. Herman doesn't do much by himself,
but becomes quite lively when animated by the hand of his creator-ess.

Look at what children can do. Why should they watch television when they can use their "maginations" and some cloth and make their own characters? I was introduced to Herman yesterday, by someone who is not much bigger than a sock puppet herself:

Its Josefina. Big surprise, huh?

There's Josefina and her sock puppet, and to the right is a living room in a state of utter chaos. Thanks to the tricks of digital photo editing, however, I was able to crop it all out so that you will never know anything about that. Haha... heh....

The two messiest children in the house are named "Somebody" and "I Don't Know."

"Who made this mess?!"

"Somebody..."

"Who???"

"I Don't Know!"

Wait, this is sounding like a Bill Cosby routine.

But kids really do say things like this. Its just human life and weakness in its elemental form, without guile, without any grown-up varnish. Everybody makes messes in life and nobody likes to clean them up.

Herman wanted to do some funny faces. Okay Herman, how about an angry face?

Herman, you look sick.

Give us your best sad face:

Now that is sad, Herman. I think your nose is going to fall off!

She asked me: "Do you love Herman?" (I think its neat that Jojo always wants me to love her maginary people.)

"Of course I love Herman. I love him very much. I especially love the person who made Herman."

This afternoon she was making another one, with a green sock. Don't be surprised if we have a video puppet show soon! We can't have it right now, unfortunately. Josefina is off watching TV.


UPDATED 5/19/2013: Meet Herman's Friend, Bruno the Sock Puppet!

The green sock puppet is named Bruno. What's with the German names, I wonder? Anyway, we'll be seeing and hearing more (I hope) from these guys. Here's Bruno:

Pretty good, eh? Maybe we can make money with these things, hahaha! (typical grown-up thought)

My Two-Handed Coffee Mug

In the previous post, I mentioned "our" Cistercian monastery up the road in Berryville, Virginia. We in the diocese of Arlington, Virginia are blessed to have these monks living the contemplative life among us, as well as a convent of Dominican nuns in Linden, and a convent of Poor Clares in Alexandria. We have our own "constellation" of cloistered contemplatives who light our sky by just being who they are. They pray. Thank God for them.

The monks at Holy Cross Abbey also have a gift shop where they sell things like their own classic, double handled Trappist coffee mug. I use this one to drink my coffee almost every day.

Holy Cross Abbey coffee mug, with the monastery shield. Its even made in USA!

Trappist monks don't eat meat. But they drink coffee. They drank coffee even before Vatican II! (Well, maybe some don't drink coffee, but these big mugs are great for soup or other foods and drinks.) The two handles were traditionally found on children's mugs in France, and I presume the French Trappists brought this with them when they founded communities in the United States. Monks will say that the two handles remind them that they must become like little children to enter the Kingdom of God.

The symbolic shield of the monastery is also a reference point for many things in my own life. The waving line at the bottom represents the Shenandoah river. The line above it, with right angles, represents the Blue Ridge mountains. This is the "place" of the monastery, but it also conveys to me the sense of my own home in this valley, and the daily impact of its beauty on my life. The shield also has two crossed lines, which represent -- of course -- the "Holy Cross." And there is also the star in the upper left corner, which symbolizes the Virgin Mary.

Holy Cross Abbey also makes THE. MOST. AMAZING. FRUITCAKE. EVAH! Seriously, listen, I do not like fruitcake. But I love this fruitcake. They bake it themselves. They also have fruitcake pieces covered with dark chocolate! Oh my!

But I love my coffee mug. And I'm glad it has two handles, because some days I feel like I need them both.

John 14-16: Reading and "Dwelling" With the Text

The Abbey chapel at Berryville

In recent weeks, the Gospel for the day has been taken from what is sometimes called the "farewell discourse" of Jesus in John, chapters 14, 15, and 16. Many classic verses are found here. "I am the way, and the truth, and the life" (14:6). "Whoever has seen me has seen the Father" (14:9). "I am the vine; you are the branches... apart from me you can do nothing" (15:5). Then there are those words about His gift of His peace, and bearing abundant fruit, and exhortations to "abide in Him" and "keep His commands," and especially "this is my commandment: that you love one another as I have loved you" (5:12).

This part of the Gospel is so rich; indeed it is quite overwhelming. It takes about twenty minutes at the very least to read the three chapters continuously with attention. I should know. For almost a decade my spiritual father was an old Cistercian monk at Holy Cross Abbey in Berryville, Virginia. Fr. Edward died last year, and I still have to devote a post to him (which I will do soon). Right now, I mention him because he always gave the same penance for confession: the prayerful reading of John 14-16.

This seems like a bit more of a time-and-effort investment than most "standard" confessional penances, but I am grateful for the frequent reading of this text, and what I feel inclined to call "learning to dwell with it." This is a profound exchange between Jesus and the disciples. As is so often the case, the disciples don't understand. Jesus uses these great images that are familiar to us, but the disciples are confused. Jesus speaks of Himself, His Father, the Spirit, the world, the disciples, and they are not quite sure what he means by all of it. When we read these texts, we are dazzled, but we sympathize with the disciples in a certain way.

Maybe we have studied the Bible for years, but do we really "get it"?

"We do not know what he is talking about" (16:18) the disciples are saying near the end of chapter 16. Two thousand years later, we can still appreciate their perplexity. We too may wonder, "What is He talking about?" We have the development of doctrine, and the tradition and the Fathers, and many good modern commentaries, and our own prayerful reading in the light of the Holy Spirit. It remains an awesome and beautiful mystery, and it brings us more and more to a simple gaze full of silence, adoration, and love. We are drawn to "abide" in Him, and allow Him to dwell in us, with the Father and the Spirit.

But just then comes a moment in the text when the clouds seem to open for the disciples. What happens in this contemplative dialogue that breaks through and appears, even if only for a moment, in their minds and hearts?

Jesus says:

"I have said these things to you in figures of speech. The hour is coming when I will no longer speak to you in figures, but will tell you plainly of the Father. On that day you will ask in my name. I do not say to you that I will ask the Father on your behalf; for the Father himself loves you, because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God" (16:25-27).

And then He says a single verse that sounds like something He has already said many times. Yet this time it stands out; it seems to touch the disciples for the first time in all its richness. If we ponder it for awhile, we might be touched by it too. Jesus says:

"I came from the Father and have come into the world; again, I am leaving the world and am going to the Father" (16:28).

The hitherto bewildered disciples seem suddenly awakened by these words. Perhaps they don't know what they are saying, and yet they are impressed with a luminous certainty, as if they are standing before Jesus transfigured. They are greatly consoled and illuminated. Suddenly they rejoice, and cry out with a newly found joy.

"His disciples said, 'Yes, now you are speaking plainly, not in any figure of speech! Now we know that you know all things, and do not need to have anyone question you; by this we believe that you came from God'" (16:29-30).

Perhaps we reach this point and wonder what we've missed. What did Jesus say that suddenly made it all clear?

I wonder if these words might indicate the very heart of the matter. The Son comes forth from the Father and, with the Father, breathes forth the Holy Spirit. And Jesus has come into the world above all to reveal and glorify the mystery of the Holy Trinity, the mystery of the God who is Eternal Love. "I came from the Father and have come into the world; again, I am leaving the world and am going to the Father."

Perhaps these words open the hearts of the disciples to Jesus's relation to the Father in the Spirit. Perhaps they grasp that His whole mission is to "open up" the life of God so that they may share that life through Him. Still, Jesus knows that His coming and going has not yet reached its definitive moment. The Cross remains before Him:

Jesus answered them, "Do you now believe? The hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, each one to his home, and you will leave me alone. Yet I am not alone because the Father is with me. I have said this to you, so that in me you may have peace. In the world you face persecution. But take courage; I have conquered the world!" (16:31-33) 

May 13, 1981: On the Edge of the End of the World

Blood on the white cassock of Blessed John Paul II

May 13th commemorates the first appearance of the Virgin Mary to the three children of Fatima, Portugal in the year 1917. May 13th is also a day that commemorates another event, an event undoubtedly linked to that other afternoon in 1917, an event which remains so vivid in my memory. Every year, I remember May 13, 1981.

An 18 year old boy, a few weeks from graduation from public high school, walking through the noisy hallway. It was around lunchtime in America. More than two thousand kids were in motion in the halls of that school. Not many of them were Catholic. I was going to my "home room" classroom. I can still see the door in my mind. I can see the hallway. I am almost ready to reach for the door. Its something I've done hundreds of time; its almost automatic....

And here is Christine (she was also Catholic, nice girl... no I didn't have a crush on her) and she is in shock. Here face is pale, so pale....

"The Pope has been shot."

It was about the strangest thing anyone had ever said to me in my young life. "What?"

Thirty two years ago, what were you doing on that afternoon? Where were you when you found out?

After this, my memory blurs. What happened to the rest of the school day? At some point, we were all in our various classrooms watching the news reports. The routine was utterly broken. The heads and the jocks, the smart kids, the nerds, the heavy metal kids, the tough kids, girls and boys, all kinds of ethnic backgrounds, kids with all kinds of beliefs and ideologies and adolescent confusion, students and teachers too: we all watched the television and we were just people, just frail people holding onto our own lives by the thinnest of threads.

On television, the newscasters (themselves visibly disturbed) described with diagrams the surgery that was to take place. All over the world people prayed. I felt numb, with people I had known for the last four years without ever really knowing them, in a classroom of a large public school watching the TV that was on in the room. Did I pray?

My Jewish friends wept, and hugged me, as if it were my own father (and it was). Kids who called themselves atheists sat with their heads in their hands. It was like everyone's heart was trying to pray, somehow. Everyone was suffering.

The human race was attacked on May 13, 1981. Somewhere in their depths, people knew it. They felt it.

History was riding a bullet fired at close range into a man's abdomen by a professional assassin who knew what he was doing. He never missed. And on that day, he didn't miss.

But “It was a mother's hand that guided the bullet's path,” the Pope said later.

Can you possibly imagine what the world would be like -- what your own life would be like -- if that bullet had not been guided by a mother's hand thirty two years ago, on this day?

Our Lady of Fatima, thank you for saving the life of Blessed John Paul II!

I Asked Her What She Wanted For Mother's Day. She Said....

Mother's Day was lovely for all of us.

Garden flowers, and Jojo's card, I think. Someone else must have done the writing

I asked Eileen what she wanted from the kids for Mother's Day, and she said, "Cooperation!"

I gave her a pot of yellow daisies.

And she got (mostly) cooperation too. Some of the girls picked flowers from outside, and made cards. And Teresa cooked her a nice breakfast (not in bed, but in a comfy chair in the living room). The house was pretty clean. I should have taken pictures of this rare occurrence. To actually see the floor in the living room is like seeing a lunar eclipse, hahahaha... heh... uh.

My parents came (along with "Uncle" Walter) and visited for the afternoon. My own dear mother. She means more to me than I can ever express. And she has been a mother to me in every phase of my life. That is what parenthood is supposed to be like, I think. The modes of involvement change, but the relationship remains as a foundation. It is good to have moments like Mother's Day to pause and appreciate what is being given to us right now.

So my parents and Walter came, and we all started yacking away and interrupting one another, Italian style (I'm not sure Eileen is used to this yet, even after 17 years).

Eileen had a happy Mother's Day. She has a realism that enables her to be happy. She's grateful for things, she has a sense of priorities, she remembers Christ and His great and loving purpose for her life. This doesn't mean that the usual family chaos doesn't drive her crazy. And she expects her husband to do everything he can to stay SANE. Thank God for that.

Thank God for her, in so many ways!

Of course, we had dinner too. The meal was provided with fresh ingredients and loving care... by Papa John's! PIZZA!

For advertising like this, we deserve some free pizza!

I hope it was a Happy Mother's Day for everyone! You are all heroines. God bless you!

Using Our Talents For Love

God gives each of us talents, which He wants us to "invest" in life. Our talents are concrete capacities to love, and He gives them to us so that we might each grow in His image and likeness, so that we might fill the universe with the love He has bestowed on us, the love that creates and sustains each on of us in this very moment, the love of He who is Love. He makes us capable of recognizing Him with gratitude and wonder, and reflecting His Love in every circumstance. Our talents help shape our personal, particular ways of loving God and loving our brothers and sisters.

Loving means loving. It means giving what I have received. It means giving myself, in this moment, to the person or persons who have been entrusted to me, as a husband and father first, and then also in the use of my particular talents to serve others and build up the good. So, if I'm "busy" with things -- if I am speaking or writing or communicating on the internet or on my blog, or sitting in a library surrounded by old fashioned books and paper, or presenting a lecture in a hall or a classroom -- I must ask myself, "Why am I here? Am I here to give myself, or to build up and enrich my capacity to give? Am I here for love? Or am I just here to show off? To exercise my ego? To dissipate myself in an exchange of information that is really just sophisticated gossip?"

At this moment, I'm trying to write. But my writing is worthless unless it is an act of giving myself to those I hope will read it. Is this a gift of myself? I want it to be; I pray that it might be thus, even though I find myself so easily sidetracked, derailed, or just mixed up in this work and in everything else I do.

Many of us are like this. We offer ourselves in love and witness, but we find ourselves afflicted with so many obstacles: we have our own daily struggles, we are sick, we are tired, we are stressed out.

We must bring all of it to the One who holds us in His love.

Perhaps we feel that our love is only a poor imitation of the love we have received, that our love is all mixed up with self-promotion and vanity. And indeed it is. Let's love anyway. Let's do what we can, and also nourish ourselves continually at the places where we find Him who has loved us.

Indeed, we must let Him love us, through the Church, through the sacraments, through prayer, through our brothers and sisters, through the very truth and goodness of the joys and the sufferings of life. It all belongs to Him, and it is all the work of His great and mysterious love for us and our destiny. In His love we will find the strength to give ourselves, and to give Him to others.