Re-form
The process of preparing a man for priestly ordination is more than just educational. It’s true that seminaries are themselves, or affiliated with, degree granting institutions that result in graduate degrees. But it’s not simply enough to do the book work and pass the tests. Priesthood is not the result of a credential; it’s the result of a radical transformation.
Priestly formation takes many years; there’s the establishment of a firm foundation of philosophy before building up theological knowledge. The men live in community, participating in regular and structured prayer. Although not as intensive as military training, the rigors of life as a seminarian have a similar strictness. Men are challenged to conform in such a way that they are prepared to stand in the place of Christ. It’s uncomfortable, hard, and arduous.
It’s sad that we’ve allowed our understanding of vocation to bifurcate. In a caste-like system, we separate priestly and religious life from the married life. The overwhelming majority of the Church is called to the married and single life. It mirrors the nation of Israel: only one of the twelve tribes, Levi, occupied a priestly role. The life of the Church is dependent on religious vocations, but it is equally dependent on sacramental marriages. It’s the type of symbiosis that we see in the family. Husband and wife offer different, but complimentary, gifts.
A consequence of the bifurcation is that we separate, too, the roles and responsibilities. We think it is the seminarians who must be radically re-formed and undergo the rigors of intensive formation. But the same is true for us. Every person is made in God’s image and likeness, and we are all made to reflect Him and His Love. We have inherited our fallen nature concurrent with our heritage as God’s sons and daughters. To become mirror images, we have to set down our desires and priorities that take us further from love and re-form ourselves into the perfection that we were intended to be.
Holiness is not the prerogative of the Saints, or reserved to those consecrated with the Chrism of Holy Orders. The correction to this misconception is coming into focus as the Church declares more and more of the laity saints. Individuals whose pictures we see, whose voices we hear, in whose lives we see ourselves. Sainthood is not an impossibility, even with the challenges we face, but rather our intended destination. To achieve it, however, we must humble ourselves to be reformed, and made into the creation God intended us to be.
Inspire
Life was never simple; it was never easy. Our parents, grandparents, and great parents endured generational struggles. The American revolution, the Civil War, the Great Depression, two global conflicts, social unrest, they endured it all. We live in dark times, but darkness and evil are two threads that have run through human history.
What’s different now, what makes this period so dangerous, is that we’re trying to white-knuckle our way through it without God. When brother fought against brother, public leaders regularly appealed to Heaven for help. When our grandfathers stormed the beaches of Normandy and raised the flag over Iwo Jima, they did so with a gun, rations, and a rosary in their kit. When John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. were gunned down, it happened in a nation that disagreed profoundly, but shared a common understanding of the divine.
Today, we don’t have that. The rectangles on our walls, in our rooms, on our desks, and in our pockets can connect us to the worst people, the worst ideas, and the deepest darkness. Without God, without prayer, without grace, how can we ever hope to overcome as our forefathers did?
At Mass this weekend, I looked around the pews. There were the elderly, parents with adult children, young families, and a shocking number of single adults. I normally sit towards the front with my children, so they are perhaps always there, just unseen behind me. What inspires is that these single adults live in a world that proclaims the uselessness of religion, and they chose different. Their parents didn’t tell them to go to Mass, their friends likely didn’t, they decided to be there.
We just celebrated the canonization of Pier Giorgio and Carlo Acutis, two saints who remind us that life is never to be taken for granted. We are not promised anything more than here and now, and we can choose sainthood.
Attack upon attack, violence upon violence, the cadence is increasing with frightening speed. But we do not have to go into this world without help or protection. God’s got our back, He already won and promised us a place in His victory. Never cower in fear; choose to be inspired.
Choice
Pain is a warning system of the body; it’s a signal to our brains that there’s a problem somewhere in the system. Although discomforting, it aims to protect us from worse outcomes by getting our attention — now. We can feel physical pain or emotional pain, but its objective is the same.
Sainthood is something that feels so far beyond us. We know the stories of the saints, and how easy it is to sin in our golden age of ease. How could our story ever compare to the heroic virtue of theirs? The truth is, the path of each saint is different, and it doesn’t require much effort to find someone in circumstances like us who reached that noble goal.
Our objective is not Purgatory, it’s Heaven. Purgatory is like when an outfielder jumps up on the wall and catches a ball before it flies out of the park. It’s the final opportunity for us to make good on our intention to love and serve God. No one said that it would be pleasant. In fact, everything that we’ve heard about Purgatory is unpleasant. It’s pain with hope, but pain nonetheless. An added grace to the reality of Purgatory is how the living and the saints can transfer grace through Christ across time and space for those poor souls in Purgatory.
We have concupiscence, our tendency to act against what we ought to do. That predisposition makes choosing sin easier, but it’s not a given. We entered into this world with a stain on us that was wiped away by our Baptism. The decisions we made brought it back. Our Christian life is hard, but if we are successful, we are promised the merits of Heaven.
We must be truly perfect to enter into God’s presence. The great gift of life is not that it is a test to which we already have the answers. It’s that we are provided the opportunity to say yes to Love within the relative comfort of our lives. We are surrounded by blessings and covered in grace.
Our options are to strive for holiness in this life today and enjoy the blessings throughout my lifetime, or undergo purification in the refinery of Purgatory. Maybe I should just try a little harder.
Ecclesia
In his 1946 book Remade for Happiness, Bishop Fulton Sheen dedicates considerable time challenging the assertion that religion is a personal experience without need for community. As Sheen moves through his argument, his central theme is the idea of ecclesia, that there is a commonness shared among all Catholics that reaches back to the founding of the Church and moves far beyond our present.
We think about this concept in another, more talked about, idea. The Communion of Saints is the whole Church, those in Heaven, those in Purgatory, and those on earth. The different groups can interact with one another, and offer efficacious actions for the other’s benefit. Prayer courses through the entire community, flowing grace into every corner.
This togetherness, being part of a massive family, is what strengthens us in our daily vocation. We can ask the saints for their intercession, offer our sufferings for those in purgatory, and receive the spiritual support of those on earth. The mystical body of Christ can spread graces throughout time and space, even to members who have never met.
Last week, after the assassination of Charlie Kirk, the CEO of Hallow posted that he had met Charlie recently, who shared that he used the Hallow app regularly for prayer. Hallow is decidedly a Catholic app, pulling from the rich spiritual traditions of Catholicism and Charlie was an evangelical Christian. Yet, through prayer and unknown to either of us, we were united. This is the power of ecclesia.
The allegory of Creation tells us the essential truth that it is not good for us to be alone. We were made for one another, for community, and through our Baptism, we joined the largest, most famous family in human history. Through our family, we are connected to saints famous and obscure, to those undergoing purification in purgatory, and billions of our fellow humans alive today. It is good.
Give War A Chance
There is a grave sickness afflicting our society and culture. Too many people don’t believe in God; in denying His reality, they deny a part of what it means to be human. Humanity’s existence is due to God, but it also comes from God’s desire for intimacy with each one of us. By denying the existence of God, they deny the reality of evil. The two sides to the coin of this sickness is what drives so much of our misery. By separating ourselves from the font of grace, we are caught out in the open, defenseless, against the onslaught of evil.
God is perfection, and His existence does not depend on our acknowledgment of Him or assent to His plans. He can do anything that does not contradict His nature; He can continue to exist perfectly without us, but we cannot exist without Him. He is the author of life, and creates with little more than a simple act of cognition. He thinks, it becomes.
This is quite different from evil. We understand that the source of evil, whom we call Satan, was once God’s most powerful angel. But in a choice, he and his gang chose to reject God. When they separated themselves from Love, they became the total absence of love. Their kingdom, a place we call hell, is the antithesis of Heaven. A place of dread for which words fall short; no love, no joy, no hope, no happiness. A desolate wasteland of misery, agony, and suffering.
God possesses the ultimate creative powers, and shares them with humanity. Satan and his band lack this ability to create. Therefore, they must use cunning, deceit, oppression, possession, and infestation to achieve their ends. They view humanity in the way the Ancient Greek gods did; humans are slaves to be played with. Their works are designed to enslave as many humans as possible, and to use them to accomplish their evil ends.
To deny God is to deny the reality of evil. Without the protection of grace and the sacraments, what hope could any of us have against the power of absolute evil?
Last month, as the students, faculty, and family began the celebration of the Mass at Annunciation Catholic School in Minneapolis, evil struck. The entrance procession, a representation of Jesus’ jubilant entrance into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, concluded and a lone gunman opened fire through the Church windows. Two children died, killed in hatred of their faith, and many more were wounded. Those who were not struck will carry the terror of that moment with them for the rest of their lives.
On one of the magazine rounds recovered at the scene was the sadistic inscription, “Where is your God?”
Our faith tells us that the Mass is the source and summit of the life of the Church. It is the point in which Heaven comes down to earth, and earth is pulled up into Heaven. Wherever our Eucharistic Lord is, there too is Mary, Queen of Heaven and Earth. Present with her is the angelic host, the company of saints, the white-robed army of martyrs, the entire community of the Church is all present at the altar, singing the praise of God. We are privileged to partake in such a celebration, the great foretaste of what is to come, though our eyes are prevented, at least for now, from seeing this truth.
It was at this moment, in the presence of God Himself, that evil struck. An act of terrorism, carried out against the innocent solely because of their Catholic faith. Though shocking in our society of laws, this story is tragically not new. Since Christ established the Catholic Church, the faithful and Her priests have been beaten, stabbed, gunned down, and blown up in sanctuaries around the world. With whatever tool it can grab, evil strikes again and again.
In the face of terrorism, many blame the weapon. If only they didn’t have that gun, it would’ve been better. If they didn’t have that gun, they would’ve grabbed another. Or a knife, or a club, or a bomb, or a truck. The pencil lies on the table and does nothing; only when the hand picks it up does the pencil write.
Our response to this inscrutable evil, so often ridiculed, is prayer. But why prayer? Why not regulation, confiscation, or legislation? These things may help, but evil does not recognize City Ordinance or federal code. We cannot impose judicial sanction on a demon. The correct choice in this fight against evil is the most powerful weapon: prayer.
I once saw a bumper sticker from the 1st Ranger Battalion. It had the regimental crest with a play on the classic, “Give Peace A Chance” bumpersticker from the anti-war movement. It said simply, “Give War A Chance.” The only response to evil is to fight back, hard, with prayer.
Demons flee from the very name of Mary, one of St. Joseph’s titles is “Terror of Demons.” That is when we merely invoke their name. This is true power. In prayer, we join with the entire community of the Catholic Church, stretching all the way back to the shores of the Sea of Galilee and far beyond us into the future. We add our voices to the Heavenly host of angels, the saints who’ve come before us, and Catholics around the world to push back against evil and to bring God’s kingdom forward.
Thoughts and prayers aren’t a throwaway comment, but a personal promise to take upon our shoulders the burdens and sorrows of others. It’s a pledge to dedicate the precious, intimate time we share with our Creator in petition for them. We give over our time, efforts, cares, and emotions for the good of those for whom we promise to prayer. It’s a commitment to stay in the fight and to never give up on the promises of Christ, who said He would hear and answer every prayer.
When the news is this dark, it’s easy to feel overrun. Despair is a tool of evil because if we lose hope in God’s promise, we will stop fighting against evil. But there’s a plot twist. Not only is evil deprived of the ability to create, it has already lost. Christ’s return is coming, at a time and place that only He knows. At that time Satan, all his evil spirits, and all those humans who by their choice rejected God’s love and offer of friendship will be cast, once and for all, into hell. Time is limited and running out, and with that urgency evil courses through our homes, neighborhoods, and countries.
God is real, and so is evil. The battle rages on daily within us and on the streets. Pick up your Rosary, go to Mass, and give war a chance.
Thirteen
In many ways, wedding anniversaries are like adult birthdays. They are a moment to pause and reflect, but nothing like the birthdays of youth. There is no giant cake and no giant pile of presents. Instead, they are profound milestones that reflect the power of silent growth compounded over time.
Marriage is a dynamic vocation, a durable bond that flexes and adjusts to changing circumstances. Like skyscrapers with built-in tolerance to adjust for wind and storms, the covenant remains sturdy and trustworthy as the buffets come. In the beginning, it’s only the couple meeting the needs of one another. Soon, with God’s blessing, children enter into the abode of the marriage, and the couple’s attention and energies are spent in service of raising and protecting them. Weekly date nights and weekend getaways give way to painting garages or planting gardens. Although the outer appearance of Marriage changes, the interior dynamic remains.
The temptation of youth is towards the flashy; the mark of experience is stoic wisdom. Youthful judgment grades the quality of a relationship on the number of dates, trips, feelings and external expressions. Stoicism recognizes the preeminence of the development of the interior life. Married couples who focus on growing in intimacy in quiet and profound ways reap a harvest that lasts a lifetime.
So much can change in thirteen years. I could not have predicted the challenges that we have faced, and the many more that are surely over the horizon. But what has not changed is the covenant we share. It’s a promise we made in the presence of God, family, and friends to do everything we can to help each other, and our children, achieve sainthood.
One Week
This summer was the first time Benedict went off to overnight camp by himself. The camp was a Catholic co-ed camp that came highly recommended by his uncle. We drove him over on a Sunday afternoon, got his bunk set up, and said goodbye.
As I backed out of the parking lot, he was standing, hands in his pockets, with his counselor and two other boys. A football was being thrown, other parents were getting their kids set up, and everyone was milling about. I wasn’t sure at that moment how things would go.
Throughout the week, the camp posted photos of the activities. Alison and I would wait up late into the evening for the day’s photo dump, and try to quickly find pictures of Benedict. The kids were playing paintball, goofing off at the waterfront, climbing on the high ropes course, and more. There were photos of the liturgies and adoration. The first day, there was a group picture; he looked good. There was a second, more casual picture, he looked like part of the crew. There was a picture of him in the high ropes harness, he looked happy.
We sent him notes throughout the week; ones from us, ones from family, even ones from the dog. He wasn’t able to reply, but each day’s photo haul brought more reassurance. Wednesday’s picture had him in Adoration, touching the Monstrance, looking serene.
Pickup was on Friday at noon. I took his sisters, and we found a seat in the back of the Church. The kids were giving testimonies about their experiences, I looked at the line and saw Benedict in the back. This is not something I’d expect Benedict to do, but sure enough, he did. He shared about his doubts before camp and now, having encountered God, is changed. We celebrated Mass, grabbed his gear, and began the trek home.
It was about 75 minutes of driving to get to lunch at Chick-fil-A and Benedict talked the whole time. He talked non-stop about his week of fun, faith, and friends.
It’s been a month since camp, but the change in his interior life is shining through. It’s incredible what just five days can do when you’re open to it. If only we as adults had the faith and innocence of children, what great things could we experience?
Last Day of Summer
As quickly as it arrived, summer is on the cusp of closing out. The idyllic days of leisure, with clear schedules and no homework, give way to the rhythm of the school year.
As my children enter higher grades, our calendar is an explosion of activity. Virtual classes, computer assignments, and extracurriculars now fill my calendar in a way that they never have before. Weekly defined tasks and objectives have focused in on immovable class times and date-specific deadlines. This is a brave new world for us.
It’s been a great summer for the kids. They’ve had neighbor friends to play with, there have been trips to see cousins, late nights catching fireflies, and so much more. I hope this is one that they’ll benchmark all the others against.
Some may dread the return of school, but structure and learning are two good things. As the air cools and the routines settle in for this new season of life, new joys, opportunities, and adventures await.
Resets
Constant renewal is the call of the Christian life, and the desire for starting fresh marries up nicely with cultural pulls. We want to live our best lives, and we would like to do it all at once, starting now. I would rather not be who I am today, so staring now, I’m a new person.
These resets come on strong, especially in the new year, but fizzle quickly. Inertia overtakes momentum and, as it turns out, we’re the same people we always were.
This desire for positive change, admirable as it is, is a recognition that I am not who I want to be. Instead of becoming that person someday, what if there was a way we could start it today?
There is such a way, to be made entirely new, to be handed a fresh opportunity to live life a different way, and that is through the Sacrament of Reconciliation. In it, we name the ways in which we have fallen, gaining power over them, and receive the very grace of God to begin life anew.
Resets are important, and when you walk out of the Confessional, you can be entirely certain that you’re made new. The only question is, what are you going to do with this reset?
Why
It’s easy to tell ourselves that we should trust in God. We should, but we rarely act like it. Instead, we turn to humanity’s favorite question, “Why?”
Why does life have to be so hard, why am I here, why do I feel so insecure?
These questions are relatable and understandable. While they may reflect an inner disposition that is spiritually ill, the search for answers also opens up for us a doorway towards the mind of God.
Our purpose is to know, love, and be in a relationship with God. God wills what is truly good for us, but for that desire to be complete, we must participate. We have to yield what, we think, is good for us to give way to what is actually good for us.
Every challenge that we face, every situation that generates a thousand why’s gives us the chance to respond with a single yes. We do not have the full picture, but by trusting in God’s providence, in His trustworthy promises, we can be confident that the Why is for our own good, and the good of others.