Continue reading »]]> As the winter has subsided, making way for summer, my dog, Haze, has begun to enjoy the outdoors a bit more. He also has many human friends in the neighborhood. There’s an older man who sits in his beach chair in the warm months and offers him a dog treat or two. There’s a younger couple who love to see him trot by their home. The little kids wave and think he’s cute.

But Larry…Larry has been Haze’s favorite.

Larry is a much older man and he would often be in his garage working on a car or some other project and Haze would simply stop and watch him until he was noticed and then Larry would smile and say in a deep Southern drawl:

“All right, now! C’mon! Talk to me!”

And Haze would begin to bark on cue.

It’s at this point that I’d like to point out that Haze often won’t speak for me! But Larry had the dog whisperer touch.

“C’mon over here and I’ll scratch your ears a bit!”

I’d bring him over and Larry’s smile would get wider and he’d keep Haze entertained for a good while before we’d head back and conclude our walk. One day he even gave him a ride on his mini-tractor!

In the winter months, Haze isn’t as happy to walk that far and often when we do get to walk past Larry’s house, he wouldn’t be outside as much–the weather being too cold for outdoor projects.

But with the summer’s dawn, we ventured down his block and found a sign in front of Larry’s house:

“For Sale”

Haze looked at the sign, looked at the empty garage, and somehow he knew the worst had happened.

Indeed, the old man has passed away recently.

Haze began barking a sad bark, a near howl.

Brian, one of the guys who worked with Larry, who also knows Haze, heard him barking.

“Aw, he misses Larry, huh? Yeah, buddy, me too!”

I asked about Larry and what had happened to him. A routine checkup led to a medication that he had a bad reaction to. He had a paralyzing stroke and he lasted only a few weeks.

“How old was he? He didn’t seem too old of a man and he was so active working out here.” I said.

“Well, he had two birth certificates!” Brian said.

“Of course he did!” I laughed. He was a character.

One put him at 92 and the other at 88.

Brian surmised that Larry was a vet and he probably wanted to go to war but was underaged—so he faked a birth certificate to get him into the outfit.

Indeed, a true man for others.

Today Haze stopped by Larry’s house and got very quiet. He stared a long time at that house and then looked back at me with sad eyes. We walked quietly together, praying for Larry and knowing that he had shown us much friendship for merely passing by.

And the world seems like a better place for his passing by. And so we pray for our neighbor, a hard-working man who enjoyed simple things: his home, his garden, hard word and the loyalty of a good dog.

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May Larry’s soul and all the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Continue reading »]]> Written at the Collegeville Institute as our prayer to describe where the spirit is moving in our communities with regards to their own vocation:

Thank you God for calling me into this place
For the courage to be who you have made me to be
For the gifts I have that have gotten me to answer this call
For the strength to go on when I feel I cannot
And for those around me in this place
Who gather me up when I cannot move for myself.

Rekindle my soul; restore my enthusiasm
So I do not find my self saying
Who the hell signed me up for this?

When I am cranky and squeal like a first grader
Remind me of my first call
And place the cry of the psalmist on my lips
So I remember to call out to you in my deepest fears and lamentations
When I think even the dogs get the scraps that fall from the table
but here I feeling empty and alone.
In those dark times
Rekindle my passion and renew me into the person
You want me to become.

Finally, come Holy Spirit
Make me listen to the stirrings of my heart
call me into being while I am doing
And doing in my being
So that I might serve the world with all that I am
And be aware of the gift I am
Because of who you have made me to be.

Amen

Continue reading »]]> So I just spent two glorious days at the Collegeville Institute in Minnesota, which is one of my all time favorite places. Whether the lovely setting, the St. John’s Abbey, the St. John’s Bible, the amazing people who work there and the groups they gathered to talk about Vocation in Communities, I can’t pick just one great experience.

We discuss how we are helping people discern their vocation in community during these conferences. I do this for instance with a small group of young adults and then some people individually and it’s what brings me life the most in my ministry.

Each time this group gathers to talk about projects we might consider doing in our parishes and communities I get very excited and see dozens of possibilities. Our group, an ecumenical one, meaning a diverse group of different Christian denominations, are simply a group of pastoral people who like to think about these things.

But it also leads us into deeper discernment as well for ourselves. One female Anglican priest was moving from full time to part time status, another person was simply questioning where her community was heading, another was preparing for ordination.

And I’m always considering what it is that I do and how I’m doing it and how I might do it better.

And so I decided to get up early and pray in the St John’s Abbey with the monks. But I also got up earlier because I wanted to see the sun rise over the abbey. In fact, when I woke up I had a strong desire and felt called to go see the sunrise. This has happened to me before on retreats and it has never disappointed.

If you’ve never seen St. John’s Abbey:

Now imagine what it looks like when the sun hits the honeycombs on the wall! I can only imagine it because it rained this morning and there was no sun to be seen.

And so rather than wallow in disappointment in the rain-soaked morning I had dragged my behind out of bed for, I decided to take a moment of opportunity for silence inside the abbey, one of the most beautiful places I know.

The starkness of the Abbey always moves me into a deeper place of contemplation and today was no different. The small lighted altar gave me a perfect setting in the darkness of the morning:

After about 15 minutes of silent prayer, i asked God to more intimately remind me of the times in my life this year where I really felt like I was engaged with my vocation. All of these moments involved working with students and young adults on questions of vocation. Whether in spiritual direction or a small group or an alternative break experience or even in the Medical School’s simulation center, I found myself deeply engaged with others talking about who they hope to become.

And when that clarity hit me, I felt much gratitude. And then this happened:

Coincidence? Perhaps, but I remembered that I had longed to get up and see the sunlight—and here was a much more glorious picture than I had imagined. God always gives us what we need—not always what we expect.

And then…when I thought I could not find any more beauty in this:

These monks really thought about this place. If you look closely, the lights hit the tiny wires they have attached and it looks like sunbeams emerging from the altar of God! God stretching Himself farther than I asked for to show me just a bit more of what God wants from me in my life, that is simply to be myself, nothing more, but most importantly nothing less.

As we prayed with the Monks I was introduced to a new favorite Psalm:

Psalm 143
Lord, hear my prayer,
listen to my cry for mercy;
in your faithfulness and righteousness
come to my relief.
2 Do not bring your servant into judgment,
for no one living is righteous before you.
3 The enemy pursues me,
he crushes me to the ground;
he makes me dwell in the darkness
like those long dead.
4 So my spirit grows faint within me;
my heart within me is dismayed.
5 I remember the days of long ago;
I meditate on all your works
and consider what your hands have done.
6 I spread out my hands to you;
I thirst for you like a parched land.[a]
7 Answer me quickly, Lord;
my spirit fails.
Do not hide your face from me
or I will be like those who go down to the pit.
8 Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,
for I have put my trust in you.
Show me the way I should go,
for to you I entrust my life.
9 Rescue me from my enemies, Lord,
for I hide myself in you.
10 Teach me to do your will,
for you are my God;
may your good Spirit
lead me on level ground.
11 For your name’s sake, Lord, preserve my life;
in your righteousness, bring me out of trouble.
12 In your unfailing love, silence my enemies;
destroy all my foes,
for I am your servant.

I began the trek back from the Abbey to the Institute fully refreshed for the day ahead. But mostly, grateful for the opportunity to hear God’s voice speaking to me loudly in the silence of the Abbey, leading me to a deeper sense of my own vocation where I work with people in discernment. People who have deep decisions to make often turn to me to companion them. And that’s a special gift that I have for allowing people to more intimately see who they are becoming and who God has already made them to be.

And that is worth everything.

For God has made it so.

Continue reading »]]> So I often get a little down around the end of the semester. The students start to filter out and the campus seems barren. We give our students carepackages from the parish community to help them study during finals. That’s the first signal that the semester is ending.

I was standing at the carepackage table in our community room, thanking parishioners as they dropped off their boxes of well…junk food really. Candy, energy drinks, cup o soups, etc. A young girl from the parish came over and started to eye all the candy through the window on each box.

“You know how you can get one of these, don’t you?” I asked.

Her eyes opened wide and said “NO! How?”

“You go to college!”

She frowned one of those “darn it, you got me” frowns. And then started making faces at me. Then she smacked me and said “TAG! You’re it!”

So here was 43 year old me chasing a 10 year old around the community room. (After 15 minutes of that, I needed a nap!) It was great and silly fun. Her dad, a great parish friend of mine called her and said it was time to go. He also jokingly told me that I could take her and their 2 dogs home with me if I really wanted to.

“OK, give Mike a hug and let’s go home.”

His daughter walked over to me and then smacked me!

“Gotcha last!”

I laughed heartily and began to walk back to my office.

“Hey wait!” I heard behind me.

And then she came running towards me and gave me the sweetest little girl hug.

Our parish is a special place. This weekend two of my favorite students got married and we had an amazing Sunday mass this week and we “sent forth” our dear cantor, Juliana, who is off to graduate school in Ireland this summer. We had a lot of tear-stained faces this weekend…often.

But for some reason, God is reminding me of this little girl. Reminding me that simplicity is a wonderful thing, where we experience God more deeply in our lives.

It seems that the whole world is emblazoned with God’s mark of love.

I don’t know if that happens in every parish, but it sure happens in mine.

And it is always more than enough.

Continue reading »]]> Just watched the most recent episode of The Office and was really taken by this scene.

Indeed, they understand marriage, but it’s not that often that Hollywood gives us a message like this. Can we stay together when times get tough? That’s the question that all married couples need to repeatedly ask themselves over and over again.

Marriage…it’s about commitment. Not merely happiness.

Continue reading »]]> Two of my students, Ryan and Lauren (now known as the Undercoffers) got married today! I was honored that they chose St. Joe’s to have their wedding and then honored that I was asked to say grace at the reception.

I can remember the semester Ryan studied abroad and how much he missed Lauren. He worried that then as they graduated he might continue to miss her as Lauren moved into a year of service and he began work and school.

Dude got it bad. He really loves that girl. High school sweethearts!

I remember telling Ryan once that Lauren would always be there for him and that she would never leave him and that she missed him too. Marriage is not merely about happiness, rather it’s about commitment…about staying together through loneliness and reminding one another how much better it is when you are together.

Can we stay together despite a lonely time or two? Isn’t our love for one another able to withstand that?

Our culture does not always value or honor marriage. It seems too easy to be dispensed with at times. Ryan and Lauren have found each other and more importantly have found that they both value marriage.

In Ryan’s speech today that the wedding he said (and I’ll paraphrase):

I always knew that you would be my wife since I was 16. I knew when I asked you out for the first time and you said ‘no.’ I knew when I asked you out for the second time and you said ‘no’. I knew at our Senior Prom and I knew all through college. And I was right.

Man, if that’s not the genuine article…I don’t know what is.

It is good for married couples to go to weddings. It helps remind them of their own commitment to one another. It reminds us as Fr Jack Ledwon said today in his homily that committing to another in marriage pushes each partner to want to be better people. He used this scene from the movie “As Good As It Gets” to explain his point:

Ryan and Lauren are indeed better people for simply being together. Ryan’s been a great public servant and Lauren has served some of the city’s poorest people as a paralegal for many who can’t afford…well, much of anything.

As they move into the next phase of their life, in Syracuse where Ryan will be entering a Political Science PhD program, may God continue to bless them—but also for God to remind them to bless each other. As they do, they bless us with their lives and that makes all of us want to be better people.

Thanks for the invite and for reminding me how much I love my wife and how important our commitment to one another truly is for us and for the world in which we live.

Continue reading »]]> My dear friend and longtime colleague Ginny Kubitz Moyer has a wonderful new book out that’s perfect for Mother’s Day called Random MOMents of Grace. It’s all about her experience of being a mom and a nice addition to her very fine blog, Random Acts of MOMness which I love for the Fisher-Price toy on her homepage banner alone.

Ginny is the mother of two boys: Matthew and Luke–they’re just about past the toddler stage, but they are boys. And Ginny is this regal woman, a classically trained English scholar. She carries herself so elegantly everywhere she goes, with her hubby Scott, another classy guy himself.

So now picture her with two boys who think poop is the most hysterical thing in the world!

Boys indeed are yucky. They love mud and boogers and playing with food. And somehow this woman rolls with it as the mother of these two…BOYS.

I’m sure I was no worse than Ginny’s boys when I was her age. And one of her chapters jarred a memory of me and my own mother.

I was 6 and in first grade. My elementary school was a block from our apartment house. To get home I would walk out the gate and walk down to the corner mailbox where my mother would be waiting across the street. I would catch her gaze and wave each day. A reunion that I would look forward to each day. Somedays my sister (who is 16 years older) would be the one to meet me and I loved my sister, but she wasn’t mom.

A bit of a backstory. My mother has suffered immensely in her life with the disease of rheumatoid arthritis and a host of other ailments. There were numerous hospital trips and a few times when I was young it was touch and go as to whether mom was going to survive. She rallied each time and today at 85 she’s still around. But to be a little boy with a sick mother was no easy task. It caused me much anxiety and so each reunion with my mom was always a reason to rejoice. It meant a day of health and not a day of hospital, where I was too young to go and visit mom.

So mom would always tell me that “Someone” will be there by the deli to help me cross the street and walk the rest of the way home. I trusted that knowledge and it was as dependable as the sun.

One day I was walking towards the corner with the mailbox and for some reason Robert Kastner thought it would be a good idea to push me…repeatedly. My mother saw two boys pushing and she knew that it couldn’t possibly be her son. I looked across the street and didn’t see mom. I was slightly worried but I was also excited. I am going to cross the street by myself and walk the rest of the way home and surprise mom!

I looked both ways and then another mom decided to give me a hand and cross me. I ran past the three houses to my home and bounded up the stairs. I knocked on the second floor door to my parent’s home.

Nothing. No answer.

Mom was gone. Where did she go? Maybe she went to the hospital and won’t come back and I’ll never see her again? Maybe she’s inside and can’t answer the door? Maybe she just got fed up with me because I wasn’t a good boy at school today?

I started to cry. Loudly. So loudly that my neighbor, Mrs. White heard me from her apartment below mine and then Mrs. Nappi, our landlord upstairs also heard me. They came to see what was wrong. I told them I didn’t know where my mommy was and that I had walked home but mommy was not by the deli and I thought I had just beat her to her post. Mrs. Nappi got the key to our apartment and they went in and searched the whole apartment with me waiting in the living room. It was empty.

Mrs. Nappi, always a little gruff said, “Are you sure you just didn’t walk past her and she didn’t see you?”

“I don’t know!” I replied through tears.

“Don’t worry, Michael, we’ll find her.” Mrs. White said.

We began to go downstairs to try to find mom outside. Mom meanwhile walked up to the school when she didn’t see me pass her on the corner. I had just not seen her (probably because the jerk Robert Kastner was pushing me). Mom had ignored the pushing kids and looked for me in the scrum of other kids, but I was not in that crowd.

As we reached the bottom of the stairs the door opened and there she was: Mom! I ran to her and was screaming crying. My mother was as white as a sheet when she arrived. Alls well that ends well, but this was too much. Simply put, mom missed me in the crowd of pushing kids.

Ginny in her book talks about the importance of routine for a child and the honor she has of picking up her boys “after nap and snack.”

There’s a satisfaction in knowing that I am bound to my little boys as surely as God is bound to me. I reaffirm this covenant over and over, every time I change a diaper or hug someone after a nightmare or pick up my little preschool scholar after nap and snack. And I like knowing that I am providing two little people with a sense of security, that I am giving them the confident assurance that Mom isn’t going anywhere.

My childhood was shattered when that sense of security was breached. My mom WAS in fact where she was supposed to be, but this time she just lost sight of me and I, her. The terror in her heart was probably 10 times mine.

I treasure my mom and know that she has never left me and never will. Moms make that first theological truth for us tangible: God never forgets us. For us to believe that, we need mom to claim us as her own, to always be there and for us to be comforted by those rhythms of the covenant. In a world too often marked by neglect and divorce, mom’s have a tough job in getting their little boys to trust that they will always be there “after nap and snack.” That nothing can ever separate them from mom, just as nothing separates us from God’s love either. It is the heart of our faith.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Ginny’s book outlines all those times that moms reflect God’s presence for us. It’s a gem of a book and I have just purchased a copy for my mom for this mother’s day. Perhaps you might too and let it jar the memory of your now-no-longer-little boy memory?

I will never know the joy of having children. It is an unrealized dream for me. So I have to live vicariously through Ginny. So I treasure her stories. In some ways, Ginny’s writing has mothered me through the death of this unrealized dream, softening the blow a bit and moving me into the other dreams that God always offers me. It is there that I find the mother-God is always there waiting for me.

After nap and snack.

Continue reading »]]> It’s something we’re all called to do for all people. And Ronald Davis helps us all remember this today.

An incredible interview. From 22 words–which is a great site. A h/t to my fabulous colleague Susan Haarman from Loyola Chicago.

I’ve been thinking much about the things that we all think are important lately. We had a student commit suicide this week. I didn’t know him, but he was one of our athletes and he had a child. The University is so big that people often easily get lost in the shuffle. It bothers me that in a University this large that this student felt there was nobody to reach out to.

How many are out there filled with loneliness and think there is nobody that they can turn to? How many are treated with no respect and discarded on a park bench unable to reclaim their own dignity?

These are the problems that we can solve…if we wanted to.

Continue reading »]]> The streets of Boston are safe tonight and I can imagine that there will be much celebrating in the streets of Beantown.

An amazing law enforcement effort to capture the suspect and that they were able to take him alive. We are all indebted to their service and need to remember this the next time they seek pay raises.

Now the question that remains is whether we can really move towards peace as a country? Can we move into a place where we value the safety of our citizens, but also the dignity of human life?

Massachusetts does not offer the death penalty, but this is a federal issue and therefore the death penalty may be invoked by the powers that be, acting on our behalf.

And that, after all Boston and our country has been through, should disturb us.

We deserve better. The world needs us to be an example here and terrorism needs to see that we do not act as they do. We value human life and those principles need to be upheld.

Vengeance, even when we think it can be justified, is never OK. We cannot latch on to hatred, but must always cling to love. Love of country, love of life, love of justice. Justice will punish, but will never hate.

Those that died will not be brought back by our taking of another life. It will only turn us into what the terrorists hope we become.

We can honor those who have been lost best, by not taking revenge in the taking of another life. We’ve already killed one of the two terrorists and that’s a tragedy, albeit not necessarily intentional. Now we need to get information from the second terrorist and lock him up for a long time, making him restore justice long-term.

The death penalty, the taking of another human life is just one more form of violence that we should not tolerate. We are one of the few countries that still impart this penalty. The others? You’ve got the world’s great dictatorships and autocracies: Iran, Zimbabwe, China, North Korea, Syria, Saudi Arabia, Libya, Egypt, Ethiopia, Cuba, Belarus. Then you have many undeveloped countries: Somalia, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Sudan, Congo, Chad, Yemen, Guinea, amd Bangladesh.

So who’s left among developed countries? India, Japan, Nigeria, Uganda, Botswana, Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, Vietnam, Kuwait, Oman, Lebanon, Jordan, the United Arab Emirates and Iraq.

And of course, the United States.

That’s not a club I want my country to be a member of. The United States is also the only G-8 country to use the death penalty.

We’re better than this. We cannot afford to be associated with barbarism, under the guise of state sanctioned justified vengeance.

We deserve more. We are far more resilient than simply moving into murder. Violence begets violence.

Can we finally stop the violence? If so, we need to take the first step.

So let us pray for justice that is humane and places us in an honorable place of defending life. All life, even life that we don’t like and are angry with. For that courage to seek peace, to meet violence with peace, is where we must turn this day.