In Their Proper Order
I think about systems a lot for work, so it’s comical when I find myself obliviously operating within my own broken one. It’s not right for any of us to think of ourselves as having any one single job. We exist at the nexus of many demands and responsibilities, often in acute conflict with one another. In the times when the pressure builds, and time runs short, we have to make executive decisions. Why is it that we always sequence our tasks incorrectly?
The truth is, it’s easier to cut my breakfast out of the schedule than it is to cancel the kids’. I have full autonomy to limit my work hours for the day, I have less running room when it comes to the school agenda. I can sacrifice my walking time in exchange for an hour more of sleep. But while I can do any or all of those things, I really shouldn’t.
Our energy is finite and needs to be managed, along with everything else. If I plan to make breakfast for the children and then my own, I risk exhausting my energy and schedule before it comes time to take care of myself. In the proper order, if I make my breakfast first, I’ll have the energy I need to make the children’s breakfast, and more. How I stumbled into getting that backwards remains a mystery to me.
Doing each thing in its proper order is about more than checking things off of a list. This is especially true if it’s a thinking-system, one that you designed with intention and purpose. I wake up early because it is true that it is the only block of time in my entire day that can be truly my own. But I also wake up early, and walk, because it gives me the energy and focus I need to carry through my day. I eat breakfast not because a commercial suggested it, but because food is the fuel that keeps my body engaged. The same goes for the other things on my list.
I would never neglect my tools the way that I have neglected my body. My body is the physical form that enables me to take care of my children, to serve my clients, and to accomplish the purpose for which I was made. Letting it grind down into inertia is a broken system underpinned by thin logic.
Doing things in the right way ensures that I am prepared, and capable, to manage the priorities and responsibilities of my day. It is a strong logic that ensures that when the moment arrives, I am ready.e
Digital Calm
Though it comes in cycles, we find ourselves again and again looking for a better relationship with our screens. The trouble is, they’re so useful and their makers would prefer us not to entertain such thoughts. We do need our time, attention and focus, but I think the deeper desire that we’re not fully expressing is that we want digital calm. We want the tools to support us throughout our day, but not distract us from the beauty of life.
There are many layers that describe why we feel this pull, but the simplest reason is the actual design of the software. Colors, density, and delight are all engaging, especially when we sense the connection between our favorite apps and the things they do for us. When seeking calm, perhaps seeking balance is the key. Treat your phone like the tool that it is and don’t just accept the default maximalist layout.
The home screen is the gateway trap, but it doesn’t have to be jam-packed with apps. Pick a serene background, limit yourself to 12 apps, and use the physical buttons to map to your most immediate needs. Deploy widgets to thoughtfully give you the information you need at a glance, without ever needing to open the app. Quickly search the app you need instead of scrolling through the long library list.
Dozens of strategies are out there, with varying degrees of hardness, but the through line is clear. Build for digital calm, and accept nothing else.
Some Noble Purpose
Earlier this week, I paused my workday to pray the Rosary. This is not a discipline that I’m consistent with, but I do think that it should be part of my daily routine. There is so much going on, taking a pause for fifteen minutes of calm meditation is a good antidote to the otherwise chaotic nature of my workday.
It was an ordinary work and school day, and frigid outside as winter ought to be. I settled onto the couch, facing the exterior window, and prayed on Hallow as a gentle snowfall could be seen through the window. It was a refreshing moment of peace, a connection to nature, to see the slowness and stillness of the entire scene.
On the other couches were my children, participating to varying degrees. This time is not for perfection, but encounter. That this rhythm of prayer, this island of peace in the middle of their day, is inscribed in their hearts. So even when they are older and out of the house, their heart will ache for these quiet moments.
As I considered all of this, the beauty of nature and the stillness of the children, I was reminded of my sense of purpose. Life is unpredictable and the future is totally unknowable. But I am here for a reason. God designed me into His plan for some noble purpose, if only I will offer my own fiat.
Believe
The heritage of our Catholic faith is deeply rooted in ancient peoples. From God’s first interaction with Abraham on the plains of Nineveh to today’s global Church, our history is collected in the stories, families, and prayers of billions of people throughout history.
A great struggle for the modernist mind is to accept truths that cannot be concretely verified. The Church has many treasures, relics, and traditions that add substance, character, and charism to its ministry. But in a digital age separated by thousands of years from the original events and primary sources, the question of belief is a stumbling block for many. How could all these things be true?
This doubt, when it extends beyond reasonable inquiry, is particularly rich given the context of our social media age. Fake news, state-actor misinformation, and AI hallucinations fuel tens of thousands of rumors and inaccuracies by the hour. Yet, we question unchanging messages that have been handed down for eighty-five generations across cultures and nations?
It’s important to remember that, as an institution, our history and the primary events of salvation history occurred in ancient times. Perhaps that is a blessing, as it was a cultural structure that was better prepared to adjudicate fact from fiction. Truth spread far and wide, like the four canonical Gospels through the early Christian communities, while the non-canonical Gospels and epistles fizzed out. Imagine Jesus had come for the first time in 2025, and how difficult it would be, with technology and bad actors, to sort out what was real and what was not.
These cultures, before mass literacy, were vitally dependent on accurate memorization of events and passing them on to generations. This treasury of history was central to the tribe and nation’s survival, and permitting the insertion of creative imaginings would have been deeply destructive. There were stories and fables in one category of oral storytelling, but historical events had to be jealously safeguarded.
There have no doubt been artistic liberties and embellishments added to certain events, like the ancillary details surrounding the birth of Jesus. Most of these are a sort of imaginative prayer, intended to add further narrative context and depth to the scant details two paragraphs in the Gospel give us. The important thing, however, is that these additions do not contradict the core truth, nor do they distract from the central mystery. Whether they actually happened or not, it does not really matter because the main tenets are not dependent on them.
Believing is a hard thing, but it’s also an act of trust. Test all things, as St. Paul instructed, but once they stand up to rigorous inquiry, hold fast and believe.
Stillness
For two days last week, all four children were away from home and at their grandparents’ house. The morning before they left, I rounded everyone up and we all cleaned the house. Tidied, dusted, and vacuumed, our home transformed into a fortress of quiet comfort. It was an order that is seldom seen in an active house. With everything done, I loaded them into the car and sent them off on their adventure.
Sometimes, especially on the busy days, I wonder what my life as an empty-nester will be like. Sure, quiet and cleanliness are two nice things to experience in stark contrast to the daily reality, but is that really a better phase than the one I’m in? Every age and every stage of life has its challenges, but it also holds treasures in its own ways. Small children are a handful, but they also fall asleep in your arms during Mass and express wonder at the tiniest of things. Middle schoolers are caught between their younger days and flexing their autonomy, but you can connect with them in new and mature ways. I’m confident that this phase will be enjoyable, and so will the next.
Stillness is the hallmark of the Christmas story. While many cultural interpretations and features have been added on over the years to the legend of Jesus’ birth, what hasn’t changed are the core elements. On a quiet night in the stillness of winter, the Creator of the Universe, our salvation, was born. In humble circumstances, there were miraculous events, but only experienced by a few people. This was a joyful moment to be marked and celebrated, but in a measured and calm way.
In a way, I think this sort of peace, a deeply refreshing and rejuvenating experience, is the promise of Heaven that we most forget about. When we do contemplate Heaven, it’s about the people or the activities. This makes sense, especially when we’re talking about a peace so foreign to us that our limited minds can’t stretch far enough to imagine a place of total calm. Like every theological truth, its grandeur is tucked away in simplicity and humility; it’s the kind of experience of being outside in the cold and darkness of a late December night and coming inside to the warmth of your home and the soft glow of your Christmas tree illuminating the room.
Jesus offers Himself as sacrifice at Easter and gift at Christmas. His arrival marks the pivot point in human history, when our story, stretching all the way back to Abraham, reaches its fulfillment. In the darkness of winter, search for that stillness, that small experience of peace that turns our minds and hearts toward the place He has prepared for us.
Simplify
It’s easy to accumulate clutter. A single dish on the counter soon has many friends; tasks partially finished attract more tasks. It doesn’t take long before you start to get the feeling that you’re overwhelmed and will never get caught up. It takes a declared reset, when you focus and get the clutter processed and completed, before you feel like you can breathe again.
Clutter comes with physical objects, but also in our digital and mental spaces. How good does it feel, in the day or two before vacation, when you clear the decks at work and get everything checked off the list? How amazing is it to come home from vacation to a clean house? It’s always a relief when that one project or task that’s been weighing on your mind gets crossed off and done.
Letting go of tasks, projects, and even physical objects is not only necessary, but cathartic. Interests change, priorities shift, and left in the wake of these things are hangers-on that we have to summon the courage to get rid of. Goals are set in the moment, but if they don’t align with what you really want or need, they’re just a waste of time and resources. Collections of things are meant to be curated; you don’t have to keep them forever.
Spring cleaning is a thing because when the weather changes and the newness of nature springs up around us, we want to turn over a new leaf, too. Things that we used to think we could never live without now bring us a sense of dread. They crowd out space for the items that spark joy.
Advent is an invitation to simplify everything; it’s a challenge to match our interior and exterior lives to the simple model of the Holy Family. It’s permission to let go of the things that we’ve wanted to be free from but can’t seem to get it done. Life is beautiful and hard, made only harder by complexity and clutter. Clean out your inbox, get that project done, curate your collections, sell or donate what’s no longer useful. Spend your time, attention, and resources on those things that are truly exciting and joyful, and let others experience the same thing with those items no longer doing the same for you.
Immaculate Conception
The Church holds that there is no further revelation after Christ. Christ is the fulfillment of revelation, closing the loop on everything, and tying together the myriad threads of theology woven in the history of Israel. While there is nothing new to be revealed, what has occurred over the centuries of Church history is a more in-depth understanding of what has already been shared. A reaffirming principle of theology is that simple ideas and words have a depth to them that unpacking them can take centuries.
No place is the more true than Mariology. Mary’s place of honor in the Church is a natural and logical outflow of her place in Jesus’ life. What man doesn’t love his mother? If Christ bears this love for His mother, shouldn’t the Church, His body, do the same? But understanding her uniqueness in human history, and the philosophical properties attributable to this status requires deep thought and clarification.
When you look at the list of Vatican-approved Marian apparitions, the circumstances of them is astounding. These approved apparitions were studied and scrutinized, and their effects observed before receiving the seal of approval. These sixteen or so apparitions have similar threads. From France and Belgium, to Japan, Ireland, Venezuela, Rwanda, and Mexico, Mary appears dressed in a culturally appropriate attire and speaks the language of the people. This is the style of a mother looking to connect with her child, not a regent arriving to condescend. Our understanding of her role as mother not just to Jesus, but to His Body, is furthered by this subtle communication.
The same is true for the theological dogma that is not just proclaimed, but solemnly celebrated today: the Immaculate Conception. Although Mary lived in the first century, it wasn’t until the 1854 that the Church proclaimed the dogma that Mary was conceived without original sin. That’s a long time to contemplate the idea, but it’s a conclusion that is not only logical, but imperative.
Original sin is the stain passed from parent to child that is at the root of our fallen nature, but its remedy is often obtained by those same parents: Baptism. Each time we receive the Eucharist, we bring the completeness of Christ within our physical selves. Though it lasts only a moment, that interaction changes us. How can we not be changed when imperfection comes into concrete contact with perfection? But when we receive the Eucharist, He only physically dwells in us for a few minutes before the digestive process is complete.
Christ’s human gestation was entirely normal, nine months in utero of growth and development. How could it be that perfection would physically dwell in imperfection for that long of a time? Further, how could Mary be prepared for the weight of her vocation if there was even the smallest idea of disobedience somewhere in her conscience? That is why the Immaculate Conception is so theologically significant, and necessary. At the moment Mary was created, she was spared the stain of sin. This was not to pigeonhole her into fiat, but so that if she chose to entrust herself fully to God, that when the magnificent and imposing presence of an archangel appeared to her, she would be totally free to respond.
The layers of Mariology are still being explored and unpacked, but today is a little reminder of just how incredible she is, and how lucky we are to call her Mom.
Prepare
Be Prepared is the motto that many of us memorized growing up, later turning into a marketing tagline of “Prepare. For Life.” Preparation is the prudent act of an adult, foreseeing some future event and taking positive steps to be ready for when they arrive. That is Advent, the changing of our physical environments and interior selves to be ready for the arrival of the foretold Savior.
Jesus’ arrival was not a surprise. For hundreds of years, the place of His arrival was told and retold in Israel. This promised Savior would be the fulfillment of all of God’s promises in the story, reaching back to Abraham in the desert of the Nineveh plains. Long waiting, long-suffering, Israel pined for this arrival and the new era that it would begin.
We enter the Christmas season each year with a sense of time compression and busyness. The Halloween-Thanksgiving-Christmas-New Year sequence in rapid succession seems to speed us up. All the things we hoped to accomplish in 2025 take on new urgency and, while most of those things will be pushed into 2026, we still try to get it all done.
This compression is the opposite of the intent of Thanksgiving and Christmas. These two holidays ask us, instead, to pause. In Thanksgiving, we partake in the national pastime of practicing gratitude. This is a uniquely American trait in our national DNA that acknowledges that our successes and blessings find their source in others and in God. It’s a day to reflect on how good our lives are, and though life is never easy, there is much to be grateful for.
Christmas marks the arrival of Christ, and the dawn of an era. Reaching its fulfillment at Easter when we are truly set free, His birth is a concrete event that tells us that it was all real. Every story, every poem, every song, it all pointed to this moment, to this event, and now it is happening.
There are many preparations ahead in the short four weeks before Christmas. We need to decorate our homes; a change in the physical space that we inhabit gives us frequent reminders of the importance of these days. We need to clean our conscience by going to Reconciliation so that we are ready to participate in the celebrations to the fullest without being attached to our failings. Finally, we should contemplate the depth and beauty of this mystery. The great I AM arrives in the form that we ourselves entered into this world, and with Him comes everything we’ve hoped for and everything that was promised.
It all was true, it is all real, and we are a part of it.
Yes, Kings
Human government has always been a tricky balance. Incentives are powerful forces in politics, religion, and markets; misalignment leads to wild instability. The kings we tend to remember were ruthless, self-indulgent, selfish individuals who wielded power for their benefit. They were the living embodiment of Lord Acton’s commentary, “absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
It would be wrong, historically and otherwise, to paint with such a broad brush. A centralized political leader who holds the vast majority of political and military power in a jurisdiction is inherently dangerous. A few good men in history performed admirably in the role, most failed miserably. Still, it’s easy to see that the Greek notion of the philosopher king would be an excellent fit, even in the modern world, were the role to be fulfilled faithfully.
The king is not meant to be a tyrant; just the opposite. The king is to have compassion for the health, safety, and welfare of his people. He is somewhat of a father figure, tending to the domestic and foreign affairs of the state so that his people can do the same for their families and communities. He should be thoughtful, deliberative, and, in the truest sense, humble. This great responsibility for so many placed on his shoulders will dictate the lives of many.
This is why it is so easy to ascribe kingship to Christ. Jesus is King of Kings, the leader of all dominions and principalities, and the true embodiment of kingly responsibility. He is focused and attentive to the needs of His people, provides what they need, and took upon Himself the sacrifice that they could never perform. This is a King.
Power dynamics and cultural pressures can distort in our minds our perception of relationships. Who wants to be a citizen when they can be a king? The truth is, kingship’s responsibility is a burden of strength and responsibility that few can manage. After all, who else but Christ could take upon Himself every sin of every person in every age? Being the beloved is a gift unto itself, and to belong to the King is a great blessing.
Kingship is not a problem, corruption is. How good is it to belong to the King whom corruption cannot touch.
End of Days
As the liturgical year winds down, the readings at the Sunday Mass focus on the end times, something called eschatology. The early Catholic Church believed that Jesus was coming back relatively immediately. All these years later, we’re still waiting. There are many times throughout the year that the liturgical flow reminds us of our pilgrimage on earth and its conclusion. It focuses our minds, and then we drift.
Imagination is one of our most powerful human creative functions. The ability to conjure and construct things in our mind, without seeing it in the physical world, is deeply beneficial. But with all of our distractions, once we are no longer children, it doesn’t get used as much.
The end times are not meant to be a scary event, but a hopeful fulfillment of all that God has promised. If we truly accept His love, and live within the bounds of the law, we should start each day with a sense of hope that today will finally be the day that all promises will be kept. After all, we were not made for earth, but for heaven.
We fear the end of our life, rightfully for the people we’ll leave behind and the things left undone. At that moment, we will have to truly let go of those we hold closest. Will our estates be a burden to our family? But we also fear it because we are not prepared. Death comes for us all, but catches most unaware.
Fulton Sheen, in his book Remade for Happiness, flips the script and reorients our attention. It is not just that we are hopeful for the return of Christ or our reunion with Him, but that in being prepared, we sneak up on death and catch it by surprise. He likened it to the homeowner who knew the thief was coming, laid in wait, and pounced.
It is challenging to choose the things of God rather than the things of man, and these weeks are a helpful cue for us of the importance of doing so. More than that, it’s a nudge to use our imagination to think about the depth, intricacy, and beauty of God’s promises, and live our life in alignment with those promises. What is more appealing: a sharp quip to take your coworker down a few notches, or a perpetual existence in a place of true peace where there are no tears?
The Church doesn’t exist as a stick to force into submission the unwilling, but the tender shepherds crook guiding us to the safety of our true home.