I know that I am not the only one for whom this year has been full of unpredictable moments. More than anything, this year has reminded me how completely out of control I am. I've found myself especially drawn to the changing of the seasons, I think, in part, because of the predictability they've offered.
When I received the sacrament of confirmation a long time ago, the Sinsinawa Dominicans taught me that I would be a soldier for Christ. It is an ancient image that dates to the early Church.
Jesus, as I make the 40-day pilgrimage through Lent, I ask that my journey may always be at your side. My one Lenten goal, indeed the one goal of my life, is to enter into a relationship with you. What I do, the time I give to prayer, the sacrifices I make -- I ask that all may be done as a way of growing in my closeness to you, my friendship with you, my risen Lord.
In college, I made Bluto Blutarsky from "Animal House" look like a choir boy. One night I got rip-roaring drunk, fell backward down a flight of stairs, split my head open. Spent the night in the hospital and got 12 stitches. My wild man act and partying was getting deadly dangerous.
About a month ago, a brother priest and I were discussing the importance of loving God first and foremost in life. Naturally, there are many people that we love and cherish with intense feeling, and we all have various hobbies or interests that command a powerful devotion.
Q) I feel like my faith keeps failing. I will have these moments when I feel close to God and strong in my faith, but then I always “crash” and feel nothing. What am I doing wrong?
I was in the town of Santiago Atitlan, Guatemala. With a backdrop of two volcanic mountains and facing one of the most beautiful lakes in the world, it was a picturesque place. It was also where, in 1981, Father Stanley Rother became the first American citizen to be martyred.
Last year's Lent felt as if it never ended. There was not the usual release and elation of Easter as I watched from my laptop at home, instead of with my church family.
Do you remember what it’s like to shake someone’s hand or even give a high-five? Do you remember what it’s like to hug and kiss those you love? We all feel that pain of not being touched.
Many years ago, before my ordination, I spoke with a priest in confession about some trouble I was having in a relationship. The priest listened calmly. Once I finished, he looked up and said in his typical witty fashion, “Sometimes, it’s nice just to go home and look at the pictures on the wall.” He always had a way of making me laugh.
