I had settled into my seat by the window, grateful the aisle and center seats were open. It wasn’t a full flight, so I had room to spread out and relax.

I closed my eyes, hoping to catch a little sleep. My bliss, however, was short lived.

The pilot’s voice came over the comm, “So, uhm, here’s the situation, folks – we had a little error message pop up in the cockpit here.”

A little error message?! We’re supposed to fly 560 mph at 30,000 feet – how can any error message be little?!

He continued, “We’re not really sure what it means, so, uhmmmm… we’re going to go ahead and give it a hard shutdown and then reboot just like you would with your own laptop.”

“That’s it?” I thought. “You’re going to just reboot the airplane like it’s a video game?!”

Wouldn’t it be great to be able to simply reboot life like that once in a while? Whenever we see an error message pop up in our lives, we could engage a hard shutdown and reboot. I think I’d like that. I’m certain Michelle would like to reboot me sometimes.

Together, Christmas and New Year’s provide us with an opportunity for a spiritual and chronological reboot. Of course, even as we make resolutions and commitments to ourselves, it’s difficult to think of these as a hard restart because we haven’t actually gone through the hard shutdown part. We carry all the same anxieties, stresses, prejudices, and other baggage forward. Rather than reboot and live as the best version – the Christlike version – of ourselves, we settle for a slightly modified version. Most of our resolutions are actually just attempts to cope with or cover up all the old junk rather than truly engage renewal.

In reference to my own life, I am guilty of slapping new paint over rotted boards, and then standing back and nodding with self-approval, “There, much better.” It gets me through the day but does very little to get me to a better place. Sure, I might have dropped a few pounds, but am I living and loving as the healthiest, happiest version of me?

Nearly all of us enjoy playing the lottery fantasy game: what would you do if you won the lottery? Another popular version of the same game is mortality awareness: what would you do if you had only one month to live? If you listen to the answers most of us give, you’ll notice a subtle difference. In response to winning the lottery, we fantasize about changing things outside of ourselves such as our jobs or our homes. Many of us imagine using the windfall to put something good in the world and to fund charity work. Mostly though, we think about changing something that’s not us. In response to the mortality question, however, we are decisively more self-reflective. We talk about worrying less and loving more. We actually think in terms of a total reboot for the final stretch and living our last month the way we wished we would have lived our entire lives.

What would happen if we used this season for a reboot, if we resolve to live as though right now is the first, last, and only year we will ever live? What baggage, dead weight, and negativity would we set down and walk away from? How would we love more fully and generously than we do now? How free would we feel?

Journey well and pray always.
Peace, Deacon Steve Meyer

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

Following the shootings in El Paso and Dayton last weekend, public discourse took its predictable trajectory. There was an outpouring of heartfelt empathy for the victims, their families, and their communities. There was gratuitous outrage by politicians. There were impassioned calls for reform in gun laws, matched by impassioned calls to arm more people with more guns. Each time we go through this, we argue about the best ways to address the symptom (gun violence) while we go on spreading the disease (hatred).

Let’s stop pretending that all the ugliness going on in the world is the fault of democrats or republicans or guns or immigrants or Trump or Islam or Wall Street or Amazon. Just stop. All of us, every single one of us, is capable of feeling hatred and directing it toward another person, especially toward someone who is not like us. And the problem is that we’re all doing it all the time. Just spend five minutes on social media – or any media for that matter – and you’ll see it. The deadly virus called hate has reached epidemic proportions (thank you, Internet), so why do we continue to feign shock when it claims more victims? Hate is merely doing what hate does – it kills. And every time any of us spews more hatred into the world, we are spreading the disease.

This virus cannot be stopped with gun laws, or political rhetoric, or border walls. There is only one thing that defeats hatred: love. And it works every time. Every time. Jesus was not ambiguous on this point. Love your neighbor as yourself. Love your enemy. Love one another as I have loved you. He said it again and again. He lived it day after day. When confronted with hatred, he went to the cross in the name of love rather than respond with more hatred.

We can do the same. We can choose love over hate. We can choose love over division. We can choose love over politics. We can choose love over fear. What’s holding us back?

Journey well and pray always.

Peace,
Deacon Steve Meyer

In his book In Pursuit of the Great White Rabbit: Reflections on a Practical Spirituality, Edward Hayes relays the following story from the Desert Fathers and Mothers in early Christianity.

Once upon a time a spiritual seeker went out to the desert to ask a wise old monk in his hermitage this question: “Why do some people live their whole lives in a dynamic religious search while others never begin?” The old man smiled and told the seeker the following story.

“One day I was sitting here quietly in the sun with my dog. Suddenly a large white rabbit ran across in front of us. Well, my dog jumped up, barking loudly, and took off after that big rabbit. He chased that rabbit over the hills with a passion. Soon, other dogs joined him, attracted by the barking. What a sight it was, as the pack of dogs ran barking across the creeks, up stony embankments and through thickets and thorns! Gradually, however, one by one, the other dogs dropped out of the pursuit, discouraged by the course and frustrated by the chase. Only my dog continued to hotly pursue the white rabbit. In that story, young man, is the answer to your question.”

The young man sat in confused silence. Finally he said, “Abba, I don’t understand. What is the connection between the rabbit chase and the quest for holiness?”

“You fail to understand,” answered the old hermit, “because you failed to ask the obvious question. Why didn’t the other dogs continue on the chase?”

“And the answer to that question is that they had not seen the rabbit.”

Most of us have gotten a glimpse of the white rabbit. We’ve seen flashes of it and have felt its presence in our lives, which is why we’re still in the pursuit, why we still come to Mass and why you’re reading this bulletin right now. We believe in the white rabbits of love, mercy, kindness, forgiveness and compassion. But not everyone has seen the white rabbit in their lifetime; not everyone knows what love, mercy, kindness, forgiveness and compassion look like. They’ve heard about it, they’ve been told about it, they’ve even chased it themselves at some point, but they haven’t seen it. It doesn’t run through the places where they live and work. So they begin to think the white rabbit is a myth.

Our job is not simply to keep up the chase. That’s certainly part of it, but it’s far from all of it. We need to show the white rabbit to others; we need to let them see love, mercy, kindness, forgiveness and compassion in us and through us. So here’s a question to walk with: in the simple, often fleeting moments when others encounter you, do they get a glimpse of the white rabbit?

Journey well and pray always.

Peace,
Deacon Steve

In one of my homilies, the upshot of the message cautioned us that we’re at risk of losing our ability to tell the difference between the light and the darkness, and that we need Christ more than ever to show us the light – the light of love and compassion, the light of mercy and forgiveness, and the light of hope and healing. It received a surprising response.  Several people asked for copies, and it quickly became the most viewed and shared homily I’ve ever posted online (you’ll find it at vimeo.com/stevemeyer if you’re interested).

As evidence, that homily offered three parallels between life today and the story of Christ’s Passion. Although the homily focused mostly on public and social parallels, I’m restating them here with a spiritual bent to ponder as we walk the inner journey.

First, ambivalence toward truth. “Truth,” Pilate scoffs. “What is truth.” With these words he proclaims truth to be irrelevant. How often do we dismiss our own truth? It’s hard to confront our brokenness, so we often ignore it and/or channel it toward others. Our prejudices and biases, unresolved anger, unforgiven pain, and selfish tendencies are all much easier to ignore than admit. Instead of confronting and dealing with these truths, we often adopt artificial self-images in the hope of convincing ourselves and others that we are not broken, we have it all together. By driving the right car, wearing a certain brand of yoga gear, and posting photos of perfect moments on perfect vacations, we can become the image rather than reveal the authentic self. When we hide or disguise our truth, we have lost our ability to tell the difference between the light and the darkness.\

Second, animosity through law. Rules give us a sense of order and security. They keep us safe in a dangerous, chaotic world. So most healthy adults follow a personal code of some sort – rules that govern our health and wellbeing, our moral compass, and our interaction with others. It’s a good thing, but a tricky thing. Rules and laws can also be used to stand in judgement, make ourselves feel superior, and create walls that separate. They can be used to justify the hurtful and harmful treatment of others. “We have our law,” the people shout to Pilate, “and according to our law, he must die. Crucify him!” I’m reminded of a woman I know who refused to attend her (pregnant) daughter’s wedding “out of principle” and an acquaintance who estranged his own son after finding out he’s gay. Through rule-breaking actions (healing the blind man on the Sabbath, talking to the Samaritan woman at the well, forgiveness of sins), Jesus reminds us that all our laws and rules must serve a higher purpose – fostering love and illuminating spirit. Whenever we use the tools of justice to advance injustice, or when we make the letter of the law more important than love of neighbor, we have lost our ability to tell the difference between light and darkness.

Third, abdication of responsibility. It’s not my problem. Pilate symbolically washes his hands to absolve himself of responsibility, and how often do we do the same? It’s very common for people to project their own unhappiness onto others, and then blame the other. Many marriages have broken up because spouses routinely blame one another for their own inner conflicts. Abusers blame their victims. And disgruntled employees blame their coworkers. Ultimately, true happiness is never the result of the exterior world, it is the expression of the interior self. The spiritually healthy person owns this and accepts full responsibility for his own peace. When we deny our own inner power to foster happiness and create peace, we have lost our ability to tell the difference between light and darkness.

Our journey calls us to wrestle with the tension between light and darkness in ourselves and in the world around us. Ultimately, we all hope to choose the light of Christ – the light of love, the light of mercy, the light of hope. May the weeks ahead shake us awake so we might see and become the flame in the darkness.

My wife and I raised our boys on books, humor and the tenets of taekwon-do. It’s an admittedly odd combination which, I suppose, they will be discussing with therapists well into middle age. But now as adults they all can think and discern, laugh joyfully in the face of life’s trials, and stay centered and focused even as the rolling waves of life’s storms crash over their gunwales.

In our home, we believed firmly in Cicero’s famous observation that a room without books is like a body without a soul. Reading, learning, discovering and imagining are among the most divine of all human experiences. The very idea that one person (the writer) can take thoughts and abstractions in his own head and encrypt them into scribbles on a page, which another person (the reader) can decipher so as to bring those same thoughts and abstractions into her own mind – why it’s God-like. Just pause for a moment and ponder the gospels. In a faraway place two thousand years ago, a sandal-wearing man named Jesus did a few story-worthy things and peppered them with noteworthy insights. People observed and heard. Eventually someone scribbled them onto a page. Now, here we are, one hundred generations later reading words that have been translated across time, culture and languages, and we are able to be touched personally by the mind of Jesus. It’s a miracle!

So we raised our boys on books. I don’t think there has ever been a spot in our house where you could sit and not have a book within view, ready to be picked up, devoured and shared. We also raised them on humor. Laughter, we’ve always believed, is the language of the angels. It heralds joy to and from hearts and minds created in God’s own image. Show me a church in which the community doesn’t laugh, and I’ll show you religion without spirit. To truly enter into the spiritual flow in our home required a deep appreciation for Calvin & Hobbs, a wry and ironic wit, and a strong capacity for self-deprecation. Unless you can laugh at yourself, you really can’t laugh at all.

The third element of our child-rearing trinity was the tenets of taekwon-do, which are courtesy, integrity, perseverance, self-control, and an indomitable spirit. These are the elements of character that my wife and I believed could partner with a well-formed mind and a joyful heart to help our boys become strong, confident and compassionate men. Of course, it wasn’t enough for them to be taught, memorized and practiced on Saturdays in the dojang. They needed to be a way of life. We spoke of them often and reminded each other of them regularly.

So, you may be wondering…books, humor, taekwon-do, where was faith in all this? Where was our Christianity? The short answer: everywhere. Over it. Through it. Within it. The Christian spirituality with which we raised our family is not something you do like read a book, or a way of responding to the world like humor, or even an approach to character like the tenets of taekwon-do. As long as you see the heart of Christ as something that exists outside of yourself, you will never enter into it because it never enters into you.

Christian spirituality, at least the way we hopefully taught it to our boys, is the air you breathe, the light that warms you, and the love that engulfs and connects you. You infuse it into the books you read, the laughter you share, and the character you develop. When lived well, Christianity is not something you merely encounter or practice; it is who you are.

Journey well and pray always.

Most of us were raised to be cautious. Look before you leap. Measure twice, cut once. Better to be safe than sorry. As a result, we tend to regard unnecessary risks as foolish, and prudence as wise. Indeed, I’ve no doubt that practicing prudence and mitigating risk has saved me from a lot of headaches in my lifetime. At the same time, however, I am forced to admit that the best decisions I’ve made were blind leaps of faith. Marrying Michelle, having children, moving my family to a strange city, and becoming a deacon were all huge risks which a reasonable person in my position at the time might have avoided. I wasn’t ready for any of it.

As we prepare our hearts and homes for Christmas, we must come to terms with the fact that there is nothing prudent about the Christmas story. Mary, being young, poor and unmarried, was in no position to bear the Christ child. What was she thinking? And Joseph…well, a man of prudence at that time and place would have walked away from the whole deal. And this ridiculous notion of putting a woman who is nearly nine months pregnant on the back of a donkey and crossing the desert…why, you’re joking, right? Who in their right mind would do such a thing?

A leap of true faith would not be a leap at all, nor would it require any faith whatsoever, if we were guaranteed a soft landing. Perhaps that presents the burning question for our hearts to ponder as we prepare for Christmas: How much am I willing to risk in order to bring Christ into the world? My time? My comfort? My reputation? What and how much? For my own part, I’ll admit it’s easier to ask the questions than to answer them.

I’d like to introduce you to two “Marys” who continuously inspire me with their big leaps of faith. I haven’t been able to thank either of them in person because I don’t know who they are. The first Mary is an absolutely beautiful soul who periodically over the years has sent me notes of encouragement and cash donations for my work with the homeless and marginalized. She signs all her cards as “Mary” but is very careful about never including a return address or contact information. Without knowing whether her cards will actually reach me or what I’ll use the donation for, she just keeps sending them to me. Her notes of encouragement and kindness have a way of landing in my mailbox when I need them most. She takes a leap of faith and inspires me more than she will ever know.

The second Mary, well, I have a pretty good idea of who she is, but she, too chooses to remain anonymous. Every year toward the end of November, a bag shows up in my office filled with hand-knit hats for the homeless and a very generous envelope of cash for StreetLights Outreach. She, too, takes a leap of faith that her generosity will make a meaningful difference to people she will never meet. It is both an honor and a privilege to be entrusted as a steward of the faith shared by both of these Marys, who just keep bringing Christ into the world.

Christmas is a gift-giving celebration, but most of us give gifts just to people we know. I’m not sure that takes much faith on our part, certainly not a Mary and Joseph level of faith. So here’s the question again to walk with during the remainder of Advent: How much am I willing to risk in order to bring Christ into the world?

Journey well and pray always.

Peace,

Deacon Steve

I was recently invited to address the boards of St. John’s Homeless Shelter and the Ecumenical Partnership for Housing on the relationship between abuse and homelessness. The topic became a passion of mine a few years ago after I realized I had never met a homeless person who hadn’t been an abuse victim. Much research has linked homelessness with mental illness and with drug and alcohol addiction, but we are first beginning to understand the role abuse plays in all of it. Research has finally been able to show us how abuse affects cognitive development in children, and how substance abuse among the homeless population is often the result of self-medication that started at a young age to numb the pain of abuse.

To be sure, not all abuse victims will become homeless, but consider the following:

• 38% of all domestic violence victims become homeless at some point in their lives.
• Among homeless mothers with children, more than 80% had previously experienced domestic violence.
• In just one day in 2016, over 41,000 adults and children fleeing domestic violence found refuge in an emergency shelter or transitional housing program.
• Up to 20% of victims and survivors of sexual abuse become homeless.
• 73% of women who are treated for substance use disorders are rape victims.
• Studies have shown that childhood abuse directly predicts later chronic homelessness.

In addressing homelessness, we have too often confused symptoms with cause. So while we study and treat substance abuse, mental health, and trauma, we as a community do very little to address the root cause of homelessness – abuse.

I’m sharing this with you for four reasons: first, hopefully to dispel the terrible myth that homeless people are lazy, shiftless, dangerous or leaching off of others; second, to raise awareness of the lifelong inter-generational impact of abuse; third, to stir within you a deep sense of compassion for the least among us, perhaps even to see Christ crucified in the person of a homeless child; and fourth, to motivate you to pay attention and pray for the courage to intervene, to defend the defenseless, and to speak out with tender, loving concern.

My friends, we have an abuse crisis in our nation and our community. Somehow, we look the other way as women and children in particular (but men also) are bullied, assaulted and abused. We see it in our news feeds every day and we hear it in the shockingly dark words spoken by our national leaders. Make no mistake, abuse in all its forms, whether physical, sexual, emotional, psychological, verbal or financial, is a dehumanizing assault on the sacred dignity of another person. Many of you reading this already know this, because you, too, have been abused. You know the reality and the pain.

I urge you to pray on this issue. First to pray for the victims, second to pray for the perpetrators who almost always have been victims themselves, and third to pray for the Holy Spirit to open your heart and guide your response.

Journey well and pray always.

There are well over 200 virus strains that cause the common cold. Rhinoviruses are the most common. They’re brutally rude little things, showing up unannounced and always overstaying their welcome like drunken relatives. The human body’s immune system has an amazing ability to rally the troops and fight off these little monsters. A healthy person has an average of 7,000 white blood cells in each drop of blood, all at the ready to attack as soon as these viruses breach our castle walls. When such a virus invades, the body immediately starts releasing and producing huge battalions of additional white blood cells like giant clone armies (that’s a Star Wars reference for my fellow geeks out there), reinforcing the ranks by the billions. It is nothing short of miraculous.

Yet, when our eyes swell and our sinuses run with a bad head cold, we don’t see the miracle of the immune system. We certainly don’t feel like a miracle. Instead, we feel tired, dreary and often rather crabby. Ironically, we are not tired because of the virus; we are tired because of how hard our bodies are working to heal. The symptoms of sickness are often actually signs of healing. But we don’t see it that way. We tend to recognize only what we are feeling rather than seeing the miracle within us.

If we are not careful, we will apply the same perspective to the larger organism of which we are all a part – planet earth. This interconnected creation is under attack by a nasty viral strain, just as it has been since the story of Cain picking up a rock and smashing it into his brother’s head. Pockets of senseless violence are erupting worldwide and seem to be contagious. Hate, anger and racism have found new power and are threatening our security and well being. In response, we feel tired, dreary, anxious and stressed.

But underneath it all, deep within us, the Spirit is at work cultivating love, kindness and human compassion. These are the instruments of our global immune system, and they are in fact being produced and deployed in great abundance. Millions of people sending billions of dollars to provide hurricane relief. Countless tears and prayers offered for Las Vegas. All around us wonderful people are caring so much. They care for children and elderly; they support mental illness programs; they visit the sick and bring meals to the home-bound; and they fund shelters and stock food pantries. Goodness is everywhere.

Individual acts of loving kindness are much, much more the norm than acts of hatred and violence.

Do we see it? Do we recognize only what we feel – fear, anxiety, insecurity, or do we see the miracles within us and around us – love, kindness, human compassion? Do we focus on the hurt or the healing? How we answer that question will determine whether we are part of the problem or part of the promise.

Journey well and pray always.

(Editor’s Notes: Hurricane relief refers to Hurricanes Harvey, Irma, Maria, etc. in August, September, October 2017. Las Vegas refers to the massacre on October 1, 2017, at a Jason Aldean concert.)

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

I woke at 3:15am. Couldn’t get back to sleep. Tossing and turning, I wrestled with demons named grief, anxiety and loneliness. These past few weeks and months have emotionally and spiritually battered me. I taste the bittersweet emptiness of having dropped Adam off at college; I continue to struggle with the wrenching grief of my father’s death; I fight through personal and professional challenges and failures. “It’s too much!” I lamented to Michelle. “It’s just too much to process and deal with all at one time. The notion that God never gives us more than we can handle is a lie!”

Turning attention away from myself to larger concerns has proven counterproductive. There is even more anxiety out there! A nuclear North Korea, armed white supremacists marching in the streets, hurricanes obliterating entire cities. So much pain. So much suffering. So much fear. So much anger. So much hate.

Turning to prayer, I find very little comfort and no consolation.

“My God! My God!” I finally call out. “Why have you forsaken me?” In the cold night of my own shadow, I express my disillusionment with this God. “I’ve done everything you asked of me! I’ve worked hard to live a loving and generous life. I’ve set aside my own dreams to serve you. And where are you now? You offer me no shelter, no safety and no comfort!”

And then it occurs to me: the notion that a good Christian life would protect me from overwhelming suffering is a self-serving fallacy. It is merely another form of the prosperity gospel, the grossly false belief that God shines earthly favor upon those who faithfully follow, while bestowing earthly pain upon those who stray. Even while meditating on the crucifix, have I secretly believed I could avoid my own crown of thorns by being a good and faithful disciple?

Finally, out of the corner of my eye, I spot a copy of Dark Night of the Soul by St. John of the Cross. It’s been sitting on the corner of my desk for a couple of months, waiting for me to pick it up. In the introduction, the translator Mirabai Starr explains the theme of the Spanish mystic’s message…

Say what’s secretly going on is that the Beloved is loving you back. That your first glimpse of the Absolute was God’s first great gift to you. That your years of revelation inside his many vessels was his second gift, wherein, like a mother, he was holding you, like a child, close to his breast, tenderly feeding you. And that this darkness of the soul you have come upon and cannot seem to come out of is his final and greatest gift to you.

Because it is only in this vast emptiness that he can enter, as your beloved, and fill you. Where the darkness is nothing but unutterable radiance.

Say he knows you are ready to receive him and to be annihilated in love.

Can you say YES to that?

 Aha! The human experience of emptiness is the opening to be filled with the divine experience of love. Suffering is not a consequence, it is a beginning, like a heavenly steel plow overturning the hardened soil of our lives. The dirt must be softened, loosened, even pulverized for the life-giving water to penetrate and the seeds of love to germinate.

The only question is how deep… how deep do I want the roots of Spirit to reach into the clod of earth named Steve?

Journey well and pray always.

As I watched a butterfly flit around the gardens, I wondered how many different types of butterflies share the earth with us. Thanks to the Google machine, I have an answer: there are between 12,000 and 15,000 different species of butterflies and moths. Amazing! Of course, as long as I was searching… there are 10,000 species of birds that we know of, and scientists think there may be as many as 18,000. Here’s more: there are at least two million species of insects – maybe as many as ten million. Who knows? We keep discovering more!

Biologists have identified over 250,000 different species of plants and animals living in the oceans, and believe there are another 500,000 species yet to be identified.

Obviously, God has a preference for diversity. There is absolutely no evidence on earth to suggest God is interested in sameness. None. Zero. Creation is quite the opposite, actually. But God does seem to be interested in ecosystems where all varieties of life prosper and thrive in an amazing network of collaboration and symbiosis. Now, I’m not going to pretend to know the mind of God, but simple observation would suggest a plan for creation in which diversity lives in harmony. Such is indeed the nature of things.

Perhaps we could learn something from this earth we are called to steward?

Journey well and pray always.

As a parting gift when he retired, Fr. Paul gave me a wall plaque with the words “Prayer and Work.” He and I share an appreciation for Benedictine spirituality, and among the Benedictine values is this idea that, to a Christian, prayer and work are really one and the same.

On the same day I received this gift, my father was placed on hospice. He passed away less than two weeks later. My dad was a carpenter who never had the benefit of a fancy Benedictine University education, nor was he afforded the opportunity to take a contemplative retreat in a monastery. Yet somehow he knew this; he lived this. His prayer and his work were one and the same.

If I learned anything from my father, it’s to swing my hammer with prayerful purpose. He taught me that prayer without work is meaningless, and work without prayer is empty. Whether we are plowing and planting, bulldozing and building, or manufacturing and marketing, we are called by Christ to open our eyes to the sacredness of the people we feed—house—clothe—serve—connect—heal—teach. How blessed are those who see their work as prayer and their customers as Christ!

Journey well and pray always.

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

Well, graduation season is in full swing. Across America millions of people are marking a milestone with great joy and anticipating what’s next with excitement. With two graduations in our own family this year (2017), I thought I’d share the advice I give to each of my own sons upon graduation.

First, live with a grateful heart. You are not a self-made man and, while I congratulate you on the hard work that brought you to this point, I also remind you that you did not get here on your own. Many people, especially some very talented and dedicated teachers, poured out their hearts and made personal sacrifices to give you this opportunity. From this day forward, start each day with a prayer of thanksgiving for all who share their giftedness with you.

Second, you will reap what you sow. If you seek happiness, love and joy, then commit your life to planting seeds of happiness, love and joy in the world. It really is that simple. If, instead, you plant seeds of resentment, greed or self-centeredness, you can expect the world will hand a big bowl of it right back to you.

Third, remember the three rules I gave you when you started kindergarten: always do your best, be kind to everyone, and have fun. Every opportunity, every person and every moment in your life is a gift. Accept and respect these gifts by making the most of them and passing them to others.

Fourth, practice mental toughness. You will make mistakes. You will stumble and you will fail. Everyone does. When this happens, take a moment to reflect on how you can grow from the experience, be grateful for the lessons learned, and then let it go. Avoid the self-indulgent temptation to dwell on your errors. You must learn self-forgiveness before you will ever be able to forgive others.

Fifth, live like the Oneida by nurturing a good mind, a good heart and a strong fire. You need all three to live a healthy, balanced life. This is the Trinitarian approach to life that is expressed in our Catholic sign of the cross as we touch our minds, our hearts and our lungs. So make the sign of the cross several times each day. It will keep you centered and whole, and it will remind you to live united with the mind, heart and spirit of Christ.

Go now into the world and let all humanity see the image of God which you have been created uniquely to express.

Journey well and pray always.

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

Sixty thousand. That’s how many thoughts we each have on average per day. These range from “boy this coffee is strong” to “what the @#%!! is wrong with that guy?!” It calculates to approximately one thought every second we are awake. According to Cleveland Clinic Wellness, 95 percent of those thoughts are repeated. This means we each average 3,000 new thoughts and 57,000 redundant thoughts per day. Wow. That’s a lot of brain traffic, nearly all of which is just a rehash of old news.

Consider this against the spiritual wisdom telling us it’s the silence between the notes that makes the music, the space between the bars that holds the tiger. In minds so cluttered with noise, there is very little opportunity for the Spirit to whisper. We seek God. We call out to God. We long for God. But we leave very little room in our minds for God to respond. Even our prayers can become mere brain dumps during which we stream our thoughts toward God, but never create space for God.

Now, here’s where the brain train really careens off the tracks. According to the Cleveland Clinic’s research, 80 percent of our habitual thoughts are negative. If you do the math, this calculates to 45,600 negative thoughts per day. Psychologists call this the negativity bias. If you live with another person, the two of you produce over 630,000 negative thoughts in an average week! Yikes! No wonder so many relationships get in trouble.

Researchers have proven that negative thoughts stimulate the areas of the brain responsible for feelings of depression and anxiety. So it’s not like all these negative thoughts just come and go. They ultimately affect how we feel about ourselves, our relationships, and our world. Conversely, positive thoughts produce hormones throughout the body that give us feelings of peace and calm. Thus there is rock-solid science explaining why deeply spiritual people who practice mindfulness and centering prayer are happy and peaceful. Blessed are the peacemakers indeed!

Might I suggest that anytime is a great time to recognize and refuse the temptation to go negative? Spend some time in prayer for mindful eyes and a centered heart that sees God’s goodness in everyone and everything.

As the lyrics by Rory Cooney go…

Change our hearts this time,

your word says it can be.

Change our minds this time,

your life could make us free.

Journey well and pray always.

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

On a warm July day when I was about ten years old, my trusty dump truck and backhoe longed to break free from the confines of the sandbox and dig in real dirt.  So it was that my father, upon arriving home from work that afternoon, noticed a disturbance had occurred in a certain flower bed alongside the driveway.

“Were you playing in the flower garden?” he asked.

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he responded.

“Well, I drove my truck around the yard.”

“Did you drive it in the garden by the driveway?” he asked.

“No.”

Who was I kidding?  A couple plants had been broken off, holes had been dug, and there were Tonka-sized tire tracks.  I was busted.

The discipline came fast.  For digging in the flower bed, I had to apologize to my mother and fill in the holes.

For lying about it, I was grounded for two weeks — no friends, no bicycle.

The consequences of lying were always far more severe than the consequences of the original offense.  Honesty, I was taught, is not optional.  A man is only as good as his word.  Everyone makes mistakes, but only scoundrels lie about them.  Time and again my father drilled into me the notion that honesty is the cornerstone of character.  I grew to value truth as the beacon of a moral life and deceit as the marker of a sinful life.

Apparently, this was not the code with which we were all raised.  We now live in a world in which bold-faced lies and brazen deceit are passed off as fake news and alternative facts.  It is a strange culture for someone like me.  Fabrications and fictions are given equal and often more credence than facts.  There are no consequences for lying; indeed, it is almost expected.  Character seems quaint.  “Truth,” Pontius Pilate scoffs, “what is truth?”  In being so dismissive, Pilate illustrates that those who believe truth is arbitrary are capable of any sort of evil, up to and including killing Christ himself.

My friends, we live in tenuous and even dangerous times.  The greatest threat we face may not come from potential terrorists, rogue governments, or guns on our streets.  Truly destructive forces destroy from within, starting with a willful disregard of the truth.

Journey well and pray always.

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

Just for kicks, I recently compiled a list of things that were considered unsavory, taboo or even immoral when I was a kid but now, just thirty years later, are often considered mainstream in western culture. My, how our world has changed. I’ll leave it for you to decide whether each of these items has had a positive, negative or neutral effect on our culture.

Here’s the list of things we were taught are “unacceptable” but now are often a common part of our landscape:

▪ Wearing jeans and/or t-shirts to church

▪ Leaving a baseball cap on your head in a restaurant

▪ Premarital sex

▪ Living together (which we called “shacking up”)

▪ Vulgar language on television or in public

▪ Leaving food on your plate

▪ Entering a theater after the show started

▪ Homosexuality

▪ Exposed underwear and bra straps

▪ Atheism

▪ Skipping Mass

▪ Casino gambling

▪ Marijuana

▪ Carrying a handgun

I’m sure you can add to this list.  At first I felt a bit shocked at how easily simple inconsequential things like wearing jeans to church interlaced with much larger issues such as sex and guns. There is obviously no cause/effect relationship in play, but it does paint a picture of sorts, doesn’t it?  Have we become socially confused, no longer able to distinguish between trivial issues and major concerns?

Generally speaking, many of the items on my list either contribute to or resonate from a breakdown in the level of respect we have for each other and for ourselves. In fact, we should probably add “behave disrespectfully” to the list.  Recently, this deterioration of respect for ourselves and for one another seems to have been oddly catalyzed and re-labeled with the term “politically correct.” Thirty years ago, no one ever spoke of being “politically correct” because we didn’t have to. We refrained from saying harsh things about other people because doing so was simply offensive.

In the house where I grew up, we were taught to be respectful of others, all others.  So we didn’t refer to people in racial terms, make comments about their physical appearance, or insult someone else’s religion.  We practiced the idea that if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.  Forty years later (and yes, I know I’m sounding old to everyone born after 1980), one almost gets the sense that being rude and insulting is viewed in some circles as bold courage, or even praised as “telling it like it is.”

There are times when it feels like we have shelved the concept of respectfulness and replaced it with this strange idea of political correctness. In doing so, are we trivializing the idea of respecting and valuing all God’s people? Whenever someone says, “I’m sick of having to be politically correct” what inevitably follows is self-assumed permission to disparage a whole category of people. By rejecting the idea called “political correctness”, we have found an ironically politically correct way to be disrespectful and offensive.

It was, indeed, very politically incorrect for Jesus to dine with tax collectors, advocate for Samaritans, heal people on the Sabbath, forgive sinners, and speak with the woman at the well. He never worried about being politically correct because he acted and spoke with respect and reverence for all others all the time. As disciples, shouldn’t we do the same?

Journey well.

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

The majesty of autumn draws us into a paradox.  It is the season of abundance and harvest as well as the season of death and decay.  It is a time for storing up as well as a time for letting go.  The squirrels store nuts for the winter, while the trees let go of their chlorophyll and eventually their leaves.  Humans store up produce and firewood, while letting go of sun-drenched days.  The word autumn itself brings a host of contradictions.  Some trace it to the Latin word auctus, which means to “increase” while others trace it to an ancient Etruscan word meaning the “drying-up season.”

Regardless, the season we now call autumn invites us to ponder the mystery of life and death, most notably that one thing must die so another can live.  Jesus framed it this way: “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.” (John 12:24)  So while we tend to think of life and death as distinct and even opposite things, autumn reminds us how very much intertwined and inter-dependent they are.  It is impossible to have one without the other.  The wheat must die to produce the bread that gives and sustains life.

When we process all of this through the lens of physical-life experience, it can feel overwhelming.  The death of someone we love often hurts so much that it’s difficult to see how life comes from it.  Part of us dies with that person, leaving us with deep sorrow and emptiness – hardly a feeling we’d equate with abundance.  Through it all, we find hope in our belief in resurrection and eternal life, our faith that love is eternal and never dies.

Thinking beyond physical life and death, however, we find an invitation to spiritualize this season of autumn.  What are the things I need to let die within myself so that good fruit may grow in abundance?  Pride?  Arrogance?  Prejudice?  Old anger?  Envy?  What are the seeds within me that I cling to but don’t release to the winds of Spirit?  My unfiltered compassion?  My giftedness?  My forgiveness?

On the credenza in my study rests a Manjushri – a Buddhist wisdom sword.  At the end of the curved blade is a bronze carving of fire (the flames of spirit) rather than a flesh-piercing point.  It serves as a reminder that our real enemies are not other people; they are things such as hatred, selfishness, fear, narcissism and so forth.  These are the things we must let fall to the earth and die in order for us to produce life-giving fruit.

Fortunately, the bright, bold colors of autumn, the sound of dry leaves rustling against our feet, and even the smell of a warm sweater inspire a healthy melancholy within us.  They have a way of slowing our minds so we can wax introspective.  It is a good and natural time of year to reflect on the questions:  What’s holding me back?  What do I need to let go of, to let die within me?  The answers to these questions are, in fact, the seeds of new life.

Journey well.

 

 

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

While on retreat in September with some close friends and colleagues from the Graduate School of Theology at St. John’s University, I was introduced to the contemplative spiritual practice called Soul Collaging.  Without getting into the weeds with details, it is a prayerful practice that starts by contemplating art and image in a way that inspires the soul’s deepest voices to speak sacred truth.  For me, it proved to be spiritually powerful and revealing.  I’d like to share just one poem with you that resonated from within as I engaged the practice.

Journey well.

My Word

I am the quantum quark of moment, the joy of right now,

          Life’s only laughing, crying, breathing spark

I am a million billion neurons in full firework

          Or complete shutdown

Or whatever best celebrates

the you who I AM made be

I am mindfulness

I am nothingness

To you I give my life

so you might taste the kiss of another

melt into an unknown child’s smile

dance among the dandelions

and inhale a drunkard’s draw on autumn air

I want you to remain here with me, in me

To share me freely, to love me fully

To live and never die

I am the moment who lives only once forever

I am not God alone

but through you, in you

and with the sinners next door,

together we are all that I AM

-s. james

A number of years ago, after reading four consecutive Kurt Vonnegut novels, I found myself growing increasingly cynical. Actually, my wife may have noticed it first. I was thinking and often uttering sardonic quips in response to every observation and topic. It was the first time I realized how much the things we read or view affect our thoughts and personality.

Since then, I have made a concerted effort to mix it up, reading both fiction and nonfiction, mixing science with theology and humor with mystery. Still, however, I will stumble upon an author or subject I find particularly compelling and dive deep into it until I have to come up gasping for air.

I find that I, like most people, fight two dragons simultaneously in my choice of influence. One is the Dragon of Habit and the second is the Dragon of Affirmation. The Dragon of Habit traps us in the Dungeon of Redundancy where we watch the same television programs and news shows, visit the same websites, and read the same types of articles and books over and over again. It is comfortable but narrowing. The Dragon of Habit stunts our growth.

The Dragon of Affirmation is much more dangerous. This beast breathes the warm fires of self-righteousness, seducing us into only reading or viewing the things that validate our existing opinions and perspectives. The Dragon of Affirmation has grown quite fat and large as it feeds on the Internet, so it is now quite easy for us to only consume like-minded news and information.

We recall that Jesus spent time with prostitutes AND Pharisees. He dined with rich tax collectors AND poor widows. If we truly believe God is all and in all, then we need to take care to open our minds and our hearts to all people and all ideas. Truth is an infinite and unfolding divine revelation; no one has a corner on it or understands it entirely. One of the true joys of life is found in discovering a glimpse of wisdom where we had never looked before.

Journey well.

 

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me…

I’m a bit of a Pentecost nerd. Seriously. It’s not the sort of thing I bring up at parties for fear of sending people for their coats. But if Pentecost is not the coolest feast day we have, it’s certainly in the top three. I mean, c’mon – tongues of fire, Jesus showing up in the room with the locked doors – what’s not to love?

Pentecost has action, mystery, surprise and love. And yet, it often feels like the awkward geek of the feast days. Christmas is like the popular kid everyone wants to hang out with. Easter is like the jock who made the three-point buzzer beater to win the championship. But Pentecost ends up cast as the kid on the math team who people respect but don’t really understand. Well, I guess I’m a math team sort of guy.

Here’s the thing about Pentecost that perhaps makes us uncomfortable: it does not allow us to sit on the bench and watch. Jesus is no longer a separate and distinct miracle worker we can simply worship and admire. God the Creator is no longer the distant Eye-in-the-Sky we can mostly ignore but then lean on when the chips are down. The fire of the Holy Spirit ignites us. Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit upon us and within us. We are now one with Christ, one in Christ, one of Christ. And that means something, something big.

Pentecost is pure gift, and like all gifts from God it comes freely. We don’t earn it, nor do we deserve it. It just shines upon us as brightly and boldly as the summer sun. We invoke it each and every time we make the Sign of the Cross ­– in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. “Holy Spirit,” we say, most often without even thinking.

Melt me, mold me

Fill me, use me…

If Jesus is our life coach, then Pentecost is the moment he taps us on the shoulder, calls our number and sends us into the game.
“As the Father has sent me,” he says, “so I send you.” And there you have it, the words that make our faith messy. We have to carry on Jesus’ mission and work. We are called to touch the lepers, forgive others, and welcome the Samaritan. We are called to love as Jesus loves.

But we never have to go it alone. Never. Not ever. The Holy Spirit is upon us and within us. We can be one with Christ. One with the wisdom of Christ. One with the courage of Christ. One with the knowledge, understanding, reverence, and good judgment of Christ. One with the wonder and awe of Christ. It’s all there, imbued upon us through the Holy Spirit. All we have to do is allow those tongues of fire to spark a flame in our hearts. And that changes everything. It’s very, very cool.

Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me…

Journey well.

Peace,
Deacon Steve

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

Everyone wanted policy. Sure, they wanted different policies – some wanted a return to orthodox rules, others wanted a transition to progressive tolerance – but all seemed to expect clarity. Will divorced and remarried Catholics be welcome to receive Holy Communion? Will the Church relax the position on birth control? Will the Church open herself to gay marriage? Ever since the second Synod on the Family adjourned last fall, the world (Catholic and non-Catholic alike) has been on an Encyclical Watch waiting for Pope Francis to make a signature statement.

And what a remarkable statement he made! When “Amoris Laetitis” (“The Joy of Love”) was released last Friday, Pope Francis gave us a gift that transcends the simplicity of rules, laws and policies. The document seems to be a 256-page version of Jesus writing in the dirt. You know the story. The Pharisees brought forth the woman caught in adultery and demanded to know Jesus’ policy. Should they stone her according to the Law? Would he stand by his call for mercy and render the law irrelevant? Jesus responded by scribbling in the dirt and then saying, “Whoever is without sin should cast the first stone.” Instead of clarity, contemplation. Instead of definition, discernment.

This is Jesus’ pattern throughout the gospels. When challenged to give a clear and simple answer to a moral dilemma, he calls us to a deeper spirituality. When confronted about violating the Sabbath Laws, he won’t engage in the simplistic yes/no, black/white games playing. Instead, he instructs and often demonstrates that love and compassion must always be the priority. When challenged to name the greatest commandment, he plunges all of us up to our eyeballs in the muddiness of life – love God with all your heart and all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.

So what does “The Joy of Love” illuminate? Everything and nothing. Everything because it reminds us that all of life is rich and wonderful, that the difficulties and dilemmas of life’s journey are gifts that bring growth when we pray, ponder and discern. There are no easy answers, and that’s what gives life meaning. And yet the document illuminates nothing because it simply echoes what Jesus taught and how he lived.

“The Joy of Love” presents itself as the perfect response to the spiritual-but-not-religious movement. It calls those who are spiritual to step up and mean it, to actually engage in the deep, challenging process of wisdom seeking. If you are spiritual, then seek the truth in prayer, contemplation, discernment and Eucharist. Dare to challenge your own prejudices and beliefs so that you can grow to a richer and more profound understanding. And if you are religious, don’t hide behind the convenience of simple rules, policies and edicts; don’t stand in judgment of others’ life journeys. Instead, grow deeper in your own spirituality by committing your life journey to love, mercy and foot-washing.

Journey well.