Delay

It’s easy, when we are young, to assume that we have time. Life is a long journey whose minutes are slow and years are fast. With 30 or 40 years left in our life expectancy, putting off the difficult and important things is preferable to encountering challenges. Actuarial tables concur with our assessment, until the flood waters come.

The early Christians, right after the Resurrection, believed that the second coming of Christ was imminent. The general thinking was that it would happen in their lifetimes. Now, more than 50 generations later, we are still waiting. There have been horrific events in these last millennia, but none of them have culminated in the second coming.

Complacency is a dangerous thing, because it gets us to turn off our brains. In a false sense of security, we engage in moral hazard. We make decisions that we otherwise would not make. If we knew the date and time of our death, we would order our lives very differently.

In his famous satire, The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis articulates many of the strategies that ensnare Christians seeking to achieve the greatness they were made to live. One of them is that evil doesn’t exist but, perhaps more insidious, is the idea that we have more time.

A wave of canonizations is upon us of young people who lived lives of heroic virtue, but didn’t make it to 25. It doesn’t have to take us a lifetime to embrace God’s great plan for our lives; we don’t have to spend decades wandering in the wilderness like Israel. The fullness of God’s revelation is in our pockets on our cell phones, and written on our hearts.

It’s never too late to do the right thing, and tomorrow is not assured. The response to this is not fear or dread, but gratitude. Gratitude for the blessings of today, and earnestness to pursue greatness now.


Gaze

The disciples in yesterday’s Gospel were sent out in pairs to proclaim the good news and returned joyful at what they experienced. With only the holy name of Jesus, they were able to project power over evil. As the Apostles continued the ministry of Jesus after Easter, people would lay the sick out on the path before the Apostles in hopes that their shadow might bring healing.

Of the four types of prayer, adoration is set apart. It doesn’t ask for anything, but instead returns to God the love and honor He is due. It’s a prayer of praise for who God is. In a philosophical sense, it is the metaphysical acknowledgment of God as He is. David captures the spirit of this prayer perfectly:

So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary, beholding your power and glory. Psalm 63:2

Eucharist Adoration is a powerful experience because it’s a personal encounter with Jesus. We sit in the sanctuary, a holy place set apart, and gaze upon our Lord; and He gazes back. It’s a profound moment of created and creator, together. We cannot look at God, and be seen by Him, and not be changed.

Time in prayer is never wasted, and all types of prayer have their proper place. In petition, we bring God our needs. In contrition, we express our heartfelt regret for our errors. In thanksgiving, we show gratitude for many blessings. In adoration, though, we recognize the reality of God and praise His greatness.


Deafness

Like characters in the Bible, there are many stories in the lives of the saints that we can identify with. Saints are not perfect people, but imperfect people who rose above themselves to live heroic virtue. St. Augustine’s culturally acceptable lifestyle before his conversion is perhaps the easiest example. So, too, is Peter’s distancing himself from Jesus on Good Friday.

The hardest part about living the Christian life to the fullest isn’t just walking away from the ease and convenience of normal. The hardest part is confronting the question: what if it’s all real?

What if, at the Mass, that bread and wine is truly flesh and blood? What if, in Eucharist Adoration, I’m looking upon the physical body of God? What if the stories of Marian apparitions are true? What if Mary really did appear to Juan Diego and paint her image on his cloak with flowers? What if St. Padre Pio could be in two places at once, and what if his stigmata is real?

The list is endless, but if it’s all real, what would I have to change about myself? If I encountered Truth and accept it, I could never be the same. Everything would have to change as I conform myself to God’s Will, and lay down my priorities. And, what if, in doing so, I end up more free, more joyful, authentically happy, and satisfied.

St. Augustine describes God as calling and shouting, breaking through his deafness so that he could hear Truth and be transformed. God makes all things new, and wants nothing more than our freedom. We can go to the ends of the earth, and He will still be there. When He does break through, when we do hear His message, may we choose well.


Fiat

God’s perfect plan is predicated on the participation of man. This principle, though it confounds human understanding, is most brilliantly illustrated in Mary’s fiat. Her yes set in motion a ripple that continues to move throughout space and time.

In each of our lives, we are asked for the same yes. God places us precisely where His plan needs us, in the family and surrounded by the people He chose. He wants us to help in His mission and plan, but he can only do so with our consent.

God’s love for us is ardent, and it can be confusing for Him to love us this intensely, but then also to grant us free will. The self-reinforcing nature of God only further validates His existence. If God does love us with a love that is so pure, how could He at the same time impose it upon the beloved against their wishes? How could He, in the name of love, violate the autonomy of the beloved? Instead, respecting His nature, He offers love unconditionally, and then waits patiently.

In every case where someone has given their yes, God has done incredible things. Most of them, we will never know. But some of them, namely in the lives and virtue of the saints, we do know. These are ordinary people, anonymous to culture, who allowed God’s grace to work through them, whose names are now raised to the honor of the altar.

God has great things in store for us, but He needs our fiat to get started.


Verso L’alto

St. Irenaeus wrote in the second century that the glory of God is man fully alive. How can we aspire to that kind of living, when humanity is drowning in an ocean of mediocrity?

It’s a terrible waste of the gift of freedom to spend life on idle and self-centered pursuits. It’s not that comfort or taking it easy is wrong in and of itself; even God rested. It’s that idleness is the enemy of virtue. It destroys our potential, steals our time, and deprives our friends, family, and neighbors of the good things we could do for each other. It hollows out quality relationships, substituting at every turn authentic things for counterfeit ones.

The orthodoxy of self-centeredness is the existentialism of Sartre and the relativism of Nietzsche, a toxic cocktail all but assuring personal misery and restlessness. It’s the effete worldview that nothing matters except oneself and one’s own opinions. These two great philosophical losers condemned themselves to history as prosaic thinkers who, lacking in moral courage, dared not indulge any sense of curiosity as to what God, the author of life, had planned for them.

What Sartre and Nietzsche lacked in imagination, Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati made up for in spades. The calling card of the saint is heroic virtue, not just a generalized “goodness,” but a person activated in the original vision of life: man fully alive.

Pier Giorgio was an avid Italian mountaineer who used the phrase “verso l’alto” as his personal motto. “Toward the heights” is not only the objective of the mountain climber, but the authentic call of the Christian life to always aspire to greater things. In our prayer life, in our virtue, in our love, and in our relationships with others, we never accept things as they are, but pull them higher toward the way they ought to be.

The Christian life is difficult because we must give our fiat, no matter the social and personal cost, to participate in God’s plan for our lives. It’s not just a surrender, but a decision to open ourselves to the great things God can accomplish by our active participation. What darkness will be dispelled when we allow God’s blinding light to shine through us?

Mediocre is easy; verso l’alto.


Let the Fire Fall

It’s easy to see fire as purely destructive. There’s nothing quite as jarring as seeing a photojournalist’s images of a neighborhood after a wildfire sweeps through. The homes reduced to slabs, mighty timbers turned into toothpicks, fully loaded cars left behind as empty husks. But fire’s role in our ecosystem is essential to new life.

Fire consumes all that it touches. It takes the dead and the detritus and sweeps it away, reducing it to elemental nutrients that are essential to the creation of new life. Pests and disease lose their hosts and are wiped out; animal life finds new homes in the burned trees. Nitrogen, phosphorous, and potassium are released into the soil through the ash functioning as a natural fertilizer. Certain timber and brush seeds lay dormant in the ground until a fire sweeps through to activate their growth cycle. Out of the charred landscape, nature heals itself and green shoots appear. The fire did not destroy for destruction’s sake; it cleared the path for something wholly new.

In Scripture, we see the Holy Spirit appear in two forms: dove and flame. The dove flies over Jesus at His baptism in the river Jordan. Sacred art never omits the Spirit’s presence at this moment in Jesus’ life, as He emerges from anonymity and begins His public ministry. The dove, like the messenger to Noah that the flood was over, is white and pure, and symbolizes the physical presence of God.

After Jesus’ passion, death, and resurrection, He spent time encouraging the Apostles and making final preparations for the sending forth of the Church. But after He ascended back into Heaven, His once courageous friends reverted to the mean. They were simple men, up against a government, institutional religion, and the scholar class. They, understandably, cowered in the upper room. This was their safe place, and it was easier to be among friends than to be out challenging the world order.

These close personal friends of Jesus spent three years living with Him and experiencing every incredible public and private moment with Him. With just a short period of His physical absence, they couldn’t cope. They were the best evangelists in the history of the Church, hand-picked and trained by God, and yet they doubted their ability to take the gift they were given and distribute it to humanity.

In this locked, hidden place, fire burst through. Like the episode right after Easter, the Apostles cowered and God entered. God with them, and no longer restrained in their belief, they spread out to the corners of the known world and experienced every grace, challenge, and persecution that is evangelization. The fire of the Holy Spirit cleared out the fear and old ways of their prior life. They were sent into the world, standing in truth, and confident in their training.

One of the great benefits of the Bible that it shows us that the difficulty of our flaws and situations are not unique. We have a proud heritage of people of virtue failing miserably, but refusing to give up. Always push forward, never settle. We are never alone and we can always know the end of the story: fire comes in and God wins.

The Holy Spirit is with us, burning in our hearts, pushing us today to share the truth we hold in our hearts with family and stranger alike. This is a mission that seems too important to be entrusted to us, and incredibly it is our charge. If this is what we were made for, if this who we are, if this is the greatness and adventure for which God has brought us to this place and at this time, then let the fire fall.


Common Language

Two months ago, we had a power outage after strong spring storms swept through the area. It was getting near bedtime, but with the daylight growing longer, the children were restless. I pulled out my iPad and opened one of the few apps that isn’t dependent on the internet: Sneaky Sasquatch.

I’ve had access to Apple Arcade for years, and the game itself is nearly five years old, but this was only the second time I opened it. The first time, I quit in frustration. On that powerless March evening, something clicked.

The children gathered around me in my oversized chair as I navigated the open world, accomplishing all sorts of silly tasks. The graphics, lighthearted humor, and casual gameplay drew us all in. They begged to have access to Sneaky Sasquatch once the power returned.

Months later, my son will play on an iPad and stream it to the TV for his sisters to follow along. He’s getting jobs, and even adopted a dog that follows him around everywhere. They love it, and while I’m still a few steps ahead of him, he consults me on strategy and objectives.

The characters and gameplay have become part of our family lexicon. We even devised a token system to reward good behavior and helpful children, and to caution them when they go out of bounds. We have a powerful new tool in our family toolbox: a common language.

Every child responds to correction differently, and theirs mostly appears to mirror my dispositions. They need to be challenged, not confronted. The embarrassment of failure inspires a desire to move past it quickly. Simply marking the error and offering a correction is usually all it takes. Having Sneaky Sasquatch as a tool, I can offer a gentler correction, and ease us back into daily life.

In the game, when Sasquatch breaks the rules, he gets into “Ranger Danger,” and the park rangers capture him and put him back at his house or in jail. When my children cross the line, I can warn them that they’re in Ranger Danger, and with that challenge, they can correct.

Beyond just reward and discipline, I have a new universe to communicate with them. There are many interests that I do not share, and characters that I don’t understand. It wasn’t until I watched the Dogman movie that I understood what they were talking about all the time. Sneaky Sasquatch gives me another look into their world, and a playful way to connect with them.

I’m not a gamer, and most days I don’t have time to play Sneaky Sasquatch. But what I do have is an offline way to connect with my kids, to be playful with them, and to encourage them along.


This Way of Life

Memorial Day finds its roots in the post-Civil War era. A nation healing from a brutal conflict sought some small way to remember those fathers, brothers, friends, and neighbors who perished in a fight for the future of America. After World War I, the observance was expanded to all who gave their lives for their country.

It’s noteworthy how we talk about these young men and women who, as the saying goes, shall not grow old. Their lives were not taken, but given. They gave their lives so that their family could live in peace and that others may live. The soldier’s job is no common vocation, but a choice to inconvenience themselves for the sake of others. It’s an act of courage to step forward and raise their right hands, and many of them gave everything they could to honor their oath.

We also talk about how today is a day of remembrance of those who died to protect the American way of life. This encompassing phrase captures what makes America exceptional. It’s a way of life that operates with free markets and free people. It’s the growth engine that can pull people out of poverty, mint rags-to-riches stories, and lift all boats. It’s our ability to sleep soundly in our beds and attend Mass without concern for our safety.

Our warrior class has stood for 250 years, guarding over our nation, freeing us from the threats, and enabling our peace and prosperity. On this day, we pause to thank them and their families, for the ultimate sacrifice that makes the world a better place.


Ready, Set

Many times throughout the year, whether it be in January or our birthday, we get an internal urge to change. We recognize in ourselves ways in which we could improve, and acknowledge that we’re not who we want to be. In those moments, we resolve to change.

The next thought is usually expansive planning about how to reach our destination. We need the perfect plan, the perfect setup, the perfect time. False starts abound as we tee up our “Ready, set…” moments. Whiffing leaves us demoralized, or just the distractions of life carry us off on to some bigger, better thing.

Like Charlie Brown kicking a football, I’ve fallen for this, too. It’s why I’m always so shocked that a lack of planning is the best indicator of my success at change.

I’ve considered myself a walker for 12 years, but in the last two, there’s only been one four-week period in which I’ve walked every single day. It’s not for a lack of trying, and I did have a foot injury that kept me off the street for many mornings. But my foot wasn’t what kept me from walking; my choices did.

Yesterday was 21 days in a row that I’ve walked. I didn’t set out to make April 27th my start day, it was a Sunday. Successful exercise plans, as we all know, begin correctly on Monday morning at 5:00am. They never start on a Sunday afternoon. But here I am.

Momentum is built up, and even on those marginal days when there’s legitimately some other task that’s deserving of my time, I choose to walk. When I give up on lining up the Ready, Set moments, and instead put in the work without questions, excuses, or plans, I win.


Domestic Things

The Mass readings in the Easter season feature vignettes of the Risen Christ reintroducing Himself to His followers, and His followers grappling with what they are experiencing. The stories and scenes are familiar to us, but they are also eminently relatable. These are among the easiest stories to place ourselves in.

There is a thread that sticks out to me. We live in a culture of busyness that praises those who do-it-all. An intact executive function and one hundred sixty-eight hours are, in reality, not enough to do it all. Our work, family, and domestic responsibilities exceed our ability.

In the last decade, work-life balance was the watchword. This mythical reality stalked corporate America as workers sought the elusive goal of keeping their personal and professional responsibilities perfectly balanced. They were to be exactly 50/50, without any instances of one taking priority and harming the other.

Confronted with this hard truth, that we can’t do it all and there will never be stasis in our lives, we tilt towards feelings of overwhelm or out of control. In those moments, we’re more likely to prioritize our professional obligations over our personal ones. The domestic, after all, is pedestrian. I can do laundry any time, but if I do well on this project, I might get a promotion.

In comes Jesus, the second person of the Blessed Trinity, rising from the dead. Resurrected, before He even leaves the tomb, He makes His bed.

When Simon Peter arrived after him, he went into the tomb and saw the burial cloths there, and the cloth that had covered his head, not with the burial cloths but rolled up in a separate place. - John 20:6-7

A few days later, when the Apostles are out fishing one morning, Jesus appears on the shoreline. Hearing of their lack of production, He sends them back out and they score a great catch. They race back to be with their risen friend,

When they climbed out on shore, they saw a charcoal fire with fish on it and bread. -John 21:9

But it wasn’t just that Jesus had prepared a fire, He went further,

Jesus came over and took the bread and gave it to them, and in like manner the fish. -John 21:13

Making beds, preparing breakfast, do these unassuming tasks sound familiar? They are ones that we undertake every day; small, ordinary things that evidence the rote nature of our routines. It’s these boring domestic things that we discount and society considers nothing. But it is in these small act that we find God, and our calling. We find our very purpose, to do small things with great love as Mother Teresa reminds us.

He did these things to show us that the simple, essential, repeating tasks that we must do each day are not to be despised. Rather, they are the very path to our perfection in Him.