Lucia On A Saturday Morning

It is early in the morning.
Almost time to wake up Lucia.

She lies on the pillow
with her soft gentle eyes
closed in sleep,
and her cheeky face
reflecting light from the window,
and her fingers,
still long and lovely
like they were on the day she was born,
clutching a stuffed panda.

She is 11 years old, and she is a girl:
sweet and innocent,
moody and full of complaints,
sometimes stubborn,
generous with her affection,
the "little mother" to her youngest sister,
loves to read,
loves the quiet places,
shy before strangers,
reserved at home
and then suddenly blossoming
with humor and laughter,
wit and performance:
she is the dramatic actress,
she is the comedian,
or she is just
the most excited child in the house.

So now I look at her sleeping,
I look at her and I love her
as her father.
I see the baby who I watched come forth from the womb.
I see like a flash all the fears and excitement
and joys and laughter and weepiness of a child,
who stands on the threshold of becoming a young woman.

I love this girl.
Will anyone else ever look at her
with the tenderness that is in my heart?
She will be a woman
and many will look at her.
Some will covet her.
Some will envy her.
I wish that I could give them
a few drops of the tenderness of my fatherly eyes.
I wish that they all might look upon her
and hold within their hearts the innocence
and beauty
that I cherish,
and foster,
and--weak as I am--would defend like a champion.

There is one, I pray, who will see in her
things that I have not imagined,
and that I can never know.
For she has within herself a gift that only he can receive.
I know this gift; I stand outside its walls,
I am responsible for what is within
but it does not belong to me.
I do not begrudge him this precious inward place,
that is the heart and soul of my daughter
because I know that I must give her away.

Indeed there is One who already sees her fully,
and I pray that He will take her for Himself,
or else call some other one
to be the image and the vessel
of His enduring love.

My dear Lucia, it is time to wake up.

Secularization, Transcendence, and Love

Sometimes we throw around terms like "secularism" and "the secularized West." It is important to be precise about what this means. Terms like these are not intended to cast "the secular world" in a negative light. Rather they are intended to express an ideological and practical attitude that limits the human person to the life of this finite world. Pope Benedict XVI explains it very concisely:

"Secularization, which presents itself in cultures by imposing a world and humanity without reference to Transcendence, is invading every aspect of daily life and developing a mentality in which God is effectively absent, wholly or partially, from human life and awareness."

Secularism imprisons the human person within the confines of "the world." Sometimes it restricts itself to the world as human beings immediately perceive it (e.g. materialism). But it can allow for the affirmation of "deeper realities," and for the development of human beings and the universe under the influence of "mysterious" natural powers (e.g. the many kinds of spiritualisms that flourish today, as well as a reductionist view of religion).

Secularism is a proposal of life "without reference to Transcendence." The essence of secularism is its effort to smother the deepest reality in the life of every human person, that thirst for the Infinite that shapes every human heart. The "transcendence" that Pope Benedict speaks of here is not just any kind of "going beyond" the surface of things. It is the Beyond-all-things, that Mystery which energizes the human person and is the ultimate goal of every human aspiration. Secularism seeks to suffocate this "restlessness" of the human heart.

It does not forbid a person to be "religious" (provided that "religion" is reduced to a human system, or a set of rules that rest on human contrivance, whether ancient or new). It does not have a problem with "spirituality" as long as the "spirit" remains in the finite prison of its own idealism, or of the occult. Secularism is even compatible with talk about God. But it wants to eliminate the search for God, the hunger for God, and of course, love for God.

Above all, however, secularism cannot abide the amazing fact that the Transcendent God --the Mystery that every human heart yearns for--has entered history and dwells among us in the very midst of our world. In the end, this is why secularism is doomed to fail: because God wills to make Himself known, because He loves us. He loves every human person, even the most determined secularists who appear to have forgotten all about Him.

The witness to Jesus Christ as God's loving gift of Himself is difficult in our secularized culture. But let us never forget that His grace is at work.

Personal Secrets Revealed

A fellow blogger has proposed this common theme as something that all of us can share with one another and our readers. I'm not sure how to approach such a topic, since between this blog and my book you probably know everything about me (and our whole family) that is worth knowing. Chances are that these "secrets" won't be very interesting; otherwise I would have written about them already. Still, I'll give it a shot, and we'll see what I come up with.

Ten Things You Probably Didn't Know About Me:

(1) I flunked Latin 101 as a college freshman. That's right. I got a big fat "F"! It was a funny report card that first semester, thirty years ago: four As and one F. What happened? The explanation is very simple. I didn't study. The other four classes were ones I could cruise through with a combination of cramming and native intelligence, but not Latin (n.b. I retook the class the following year and got a "B"). Which leads us to...

(2) I mostly partied my way through the first two and a half years of college. I didn't really get serious until the second semester of my junior year, at the age of 21. I became preoccupied, both theoretically and existentially, with the problem of the relationship between God's omnipotence and human freedom. It was something of a crisis of faith, but it also gave rise to serious questions about the meaning of human life, of my life, and it was the beginning of my interest in theology.

(3) I play the guitar and the cello. I don't talk about this much here, because I don't do it much these days. I have no good explanation for this lapse; I got away from it when I was sick and I just haven't picked up on it again...yet. When I was a kid I was in a band, and I was (still am) pretty good. I studied cello for five years, and played a lot in high school.

(4) I used to have a lot of hair...on my head! And I wore it long and bushy, with a headband, when I was in high school. When my mother would complain, I would say that Jesus and the apostles had long hair too.

(5) We used to live in a house that was over two hundred years old. Some of my friends know that. Our first house was one of the oldest houses in Warren County (Virginia), a late 18th century two story farmhouse (i.e. very small) that leaked...everywhere. The floor slanted, and there was a root cellar. At various times in its history it had been a family house, a school, and a chicken coop. When we had our third chick, however, we realized we needed something bigger.

(6) I have a hard time writing lists like this. Okay, that one's lame, but it gets one number out of the way.

(7) I wrote a novel when I was 25 years old. It was a lot of fun to watch the story and the characters develop as I went along. Unfortunately, it was a lousy novel. I'm glad they didn't have e-publishing in those days or I might have inflicted it on the world. Instead, the "manuscript" is lost.

(8) I couldn't even grow a mustache until I was in my late thirties. The Lord taketh away and the Lord giveth.

(9) I didn't get my driver's licence until I was 23 years old. I took driver's ed. and had lessons when I was 16, but just never got around to taking the test. I grew up in an urban environment where one could walk or take a bus everywhere. It's not like that here. John Paul will be driving as soon as possible, and he'll probably be a better driver than me.

(10) I don't like nuts in my ice cream!!!! No way. I love nuts. I love ice cream. But don't put them together. Please. Nuts are chewy. Ice cream is smooth. That's the way it's supposed to be.

Whew, that's finally done. Any strangers who are reading this: I advise you to read other entries in this blog because they really are pretty good. There's theology, spirituality, poetic meditations, and (by far the most popular) stories from everyday family life with the kooky Janaro bunch.

Here is the link to my friend's blog, Rambling Follower:
http://ramblingfollower.blogspot.com/2012/02/link-up-10-things-you-probably-didnt.html

The True Greatness of God

I think that many times people are put off by the idea of God, or feel threatened by Him, because they think of God’s greatness and power as if God were a “thing” in the universe, alongside of all the other things in the universe, who is different only because He is the biggest and the strongest thing. If God were merely the biggest and most forceful part of the universe, and if He were demanding our worship and total adherence on this basis, it would really be oppressive.

A prominent atheist once objected that Christians conceive of the universe as a kind of "Divine North Korea." I have no hesitation in saying that if the Christian understanding of God were really what I just described, he would be quite right. But this is not the point at all. God is not the Great Cosmic Bully; He is the Source of the whole universe and everything in it. He is beyond all things as their origin, sustenance, and purpose.

Nor is God just a kind of Power or internal Cosmic Force that some posit as necessary (and others not) for “starting” the Big Bang billions of years ago. He is, right this moment, the Reason why anything exists at all, and why each thing exists in its individuality. This means that He is not a "part" of the universe at all (not even its "greatest" part). He is not "in" the created universe in the way we are so easily tempted to imagine.  He is transcendent Truth, Goodness, and Beauty; He is the Being, who is “beyond” everything in the universe, who is the Source of everything, who is “infinitely greater” and yet at the same time mysteriously intimate to every reality in the universe as its Creator and Sustainer.

I must dwell on the total dependence of all things on Him, in every moment, for everything that they are, and especially for the fact that they "are". I must also remember that He who creates all things also remains infinitely greater, infinitely more beautiful than His creatures. Without His creative act, there are no "things" at all. Only because of the power by which He creates and sustains beings, in their origins and now, in this moment, does the universe remain outside of nothingness and live with the spectacular dignity of being a sign of His Infinite Greatness.

It is in this way that I can have a real sense of His majesty; it is in this sense that I can affirm that, indeed, "God is great." Not only is He worthy of my worship, but He alone is worthy, because every thing and every person–no matter how great and powerful–comes forth from His hand and is a reflection of His Infinite glory.

The Desire To Give Myself

Dear friends and readers, what is it that motivates me to write? It is not all vanity and grandstanding, or hunger for admiration and sympathy. It is also love. By the grace of God, there is–as the controlling motivation–the desire to give myself.

Perhaps I overanalyze things. What is important is to take up the right action and let the right intention shape my will, and then just do it, entrusting all the messiness of my imperfections to the mercy of God, with confidence that His grace is at work, healing my soul in deep and mysterious ways.

And so I give to you, for whatever it is worth, this poor mixed up self of mine, in the hope that in all the mess that is me you will find some evidence of His love for you. I pray that I can serve you as I pray that I might serve all those whom God has entrusted to me: by helping you to become the persons God created you to be. I know my role in your life is a very small one, of course. But for you to be, truly, "you" - that is my hope, and it brings me joy to know that God wills to use me in this way.

May He have mercy on us all, and teach us to love one another and bear with one another.

A New Kind Of "Space"

I have been told by some that I have an "internet ministry." I understand that the term "ministry" here is being used in the broad sense of a charismatic service that helps build up the Christian community, and that reaches out to others too. I suppose my friends have a point. It is interesting that I did not intend to "set up" anything of the sort when I became more active online over a year ago.

I began using electronic media more intensely because I felt the need to promote my recently released book, Never Give Up: My Life and God's Mercy (http://t.co/ddwYeqX). People were reading the book, and I was hearing about the great blessing that it was in their lives. I became convinced that I had a responsibility to make the book more widely known; it was touching a chord in so many different types of people--people with deeply debilitating chronic illnesses, people with mental illness, people who care for others, and also many people who have no particular affliction of this kind, but who are simply living real life, and who therefore are experiencing suffering.

My options for promoting the book, however, were (and remain) somewhat limited, for reasons that the book itself makes pretty clear. A grinding, "hit-the-road" author's tour was not possible--indeed not much of anything "grinding" was possible. But I could go online and post a few links, and at least get my friends to buy it. I did not plan to build large networks on several media platforms, and I certainly did not plan to write a blog that--over a year's time--is substantially larger than the book itself.

Indeed, something has grown and continues to grow, according to a plan that is not my own. "Never Give Up" has become something of an enterprise; it seeks to build a place where people can help one another to learn and to embrace love, suffering, healing, mercy, and solidarity. Its working within this new kind of "space" which is the internet world, and many of its ways are mysterious to me. I am praying and seeking to follow God's will, building with an energy that surprises me, but also fostering something that is taking shape, and trying to be faithful to it.

The Absolute is Our Father

"The Absolute, the Mystery, is Father.... This truth that Christ has revealed does not diminish the Absolute. Rather, it deepens our knowledge of the mystery: Our Father who art at the depths, who art in heaven, Our Father who art in my profound roots, Thou who art now making me in this instant, who generate my path and guide me to my destiny! You can no longer retract after hearing these words of God. You can no longer go back. But, at the same time, the mystery remains, remains more profound: God is father, but he is father like no other is father. The revealed term carries the mystery further within you, closer to your flesh and bones, and you really feel it in a familiar way, as a son or daughter. There is no one who respects the sense of truth and is as devoted to his father as when the father is an intimate companion."

Luigi Giussani, The Religious Sense, chapter 15

Relationships: At The Heart of Love is Sacrifice

I write because I am trying to understand what it means to be a human being, and in seeking that understanding I am looking at the experience of a very particular human being: myself. As anyone who reads this knows, as soon as I look at "myself" I find that what I see are relationships, concrete relationships with real other persons; relationships that take me beyond myself.

I find that I am not an impenetrable atom, an isolated individual who creates his own identity. I am not simply a thing that is "there by itself." I have never been an isolated, autonomous entity, not for a single moment. I came into existence as someone's son, and the dawn of my awareness is full of the memory of being a son, a brother, a grandson, and a nephew. I soon began to discover that I was also a "friend," and as the years have gone by I have discovered the value of this relationship on all of its many different levels.

And then I became a husband, and here I have really learned that I am nothing by myself, that I must share myself, share my life, live in communion with a someone else. I have learned this not by philosophy, but by hard human experience, not only by the joys of giving and sharing many blessings, but also through dark and difficult times, through recognition that the ugliness I found inside myself was a cause of real suffering to another human being, and that we had to give and receive and share "love" together even in these ugly, painful places. At the heart of love and of all relationships is this mysterious thing called "sacrifice." You really know that you belong to someone when you just give without expecting anything back, you just give because there is this other person who is with you and who needs you in order to keep herself together and move forward.

You know you really belong to someone when you are humbled, when another suffers and makes sacrifices for you, and carries burdens with you because you are together with her in life. You know you really belong to someone when she makes space in her life for your faults, when she treats you with patience and compassion. It can be a grubby business, like digging a trail through the woods, but some new sense arises in the midst of this struggle. You are going somewhere together, and you need each other to get there. Even more so, there is a truth that begins to emerge: you both want to get there together. You sacrifice because you really love the other person, you want her to arrive at her destiny, and it is the same destiny as your own.

And, of course, there are others on the path too.

At a certain point in my life, "I" suddenly acquired the identity of "Daddy." I tell all the amusing stories, because that is my nature and also because--by the blessing of God--we are a cheerful, endearing, open hearted bunch. But these children have heard their father's cries of pain and have seen his incapacity and his withdrawl. They have also seen that he loves them, that he struggles to be present to them, and they know that he prays for a strength that he does not possess by his own power. They also know that he and their Mommy love each other.

These are relationships that are already taking new forms, and will change throughout life. I live each day and try to respond, knowing that "the future" will bring sacrifices and suffering and also some foretaste of true joy.

God, of course, makes everything possible. It is all the story of a fundamental relationship, the one that makes me exist: my relationship with God. I dwell with God in the silent and secret places of my own heart. But in the depths of that heart I find the others that I have been called by God to love. He has brought us together to love one another and serve one another and let His mercy shine through us.

There Is A Story

Beautiful, mild winter days.

The arc of the sun is higher in the sky each day. Flower buds here and there have sprouted in the grass, but the great trees are still bare and black against the sky striped with clouds.

The days go by quickly. The world moves along, and it seems as if everything is going to go on just like it is now. But soon it will be Lent, and then Spring, and then Easter and then Summer.

I can look back to last year's blog entry, or a diary entry from twenty years ago, and wonder where the time has gone. The events seems to be right there, and the written word clothes the memory and gives vivid witness to its continuing presence in the soul.

Some things seem the same always. A generation ago, I saw this same sky on a winter's afternoon. I breathed this same air and felt the same warmth of the sun. And yet, the people who I care most about in the world, the people with whom I share every day, were unknown to me. Twenty five years ago, I had not yet met Eileen. I could not even imagine her, and the life we share together. So much that makes up who I am simply did not exist. The children did not exist. The sky looked just as it does now, but I was alone.

And in another generation, the sky will again glow as it does now. What kind of turmoil will the world have endured between now and then? Where will we all be?

I will have continued, and perhaps completed, my part in this story. There is nothing vivid about the future, except what I have learned up to this moment, which convinces me that everything is already present in hope. I know that there is a story, and that I am not meant to be alone.

Taken Apart and Rebuilt

I have been in substantial remission for over a year, and I have begun to push a little on the frontiers of the delicate balance of activity and rest. For example, I have begun to work part of the day in the office where my children go to school (and where Eileen teaches). I am free to read, write, research, and build up my networks online, but I am also available as an "extra grown-up" who answers the phone and is available to lend a hand in whatever needs to be done. As time goes on, I expect that they will find more things for me to do, and I look forward to that.

It's a far cry from teaching college and graduate students and being chairman of the Theology department. But a new life is emerging in the years after my early retirement from active teaching. Anyone who has read my book (http://t.co/ddwYeqX) knows that I'm making a lot of progress here. You know that the mountain that stood between my bed and the brown chair in my "living room office" was very difficult to climb, and involved a lot of stumbling. Coming to the school would seem like a bigger move, but it has been easier. Perhaps I am getting stronger.

I still find that writing uses up a great deal of energy. It is a natural medium for me, and yet I find it very draining. Still, I press on. I have an ardor to express myself, and to communicate the things that I experience and learn. The energy to shape words (whether writing or speaking) is like a force of nature in me. And like everything in my nature, it is ambivalent. It is the energy of seeking the truth, and of the desire to encourage others in the search for truth. But it is also the energy of a clown who craves laughter, an acrobat who hungers for applause; it comes, in part, from the vacuum inside me that is desperately insecure, that wants approval again and again, that wants to take the feeling of being appreciated, consume it, and demand more.

It is human to want to be appreciated. But for me this desire is swollen and throbbing and itching in a way that can never be scratched. Why is it that way? Original sin, genetic predisposition, the inherent psychological imbalance of an intelligent and creative person, and 49 years of personal experience--struggling, failing, suffering, being hurt, and above all lack of trust in God. There is this world of mistrust inside me, fortified with many weapons and many defenses, raging for no real reason.

I need to be taken apart and rebuilt. Sometimes it feels like this is what is happening to me. It is a project that takes time.

It is the work of the Holy Spirit. I try to work "with Him," but above all I have to surrender my self to His work. He knows what needs to be accomplished.

Frost On The Windows

Thoughts on marriage.

It was a bit of a cold morning, and Eileen and I were both going out. The car had a thin layer of frost on windows.

We each grabbed a window scraper and worked different sides of the car. We arrived together at the back window, and began to scrape together, her on one half and me on the other.

She began in the corner and vigorous scraped little bits of frost in a straight line. I scraped a wide circle on my half and then began to rapidly crisscross inside it, opening random chunks of window to the light. Then I went back and started scraping through the frost in between. As I watched Eileen plowing away methodically on her corner, I began to reflect aloud.

Me: "The way we scrape the window reveals our different personalities, don't you think?"

Her: "Yeah, I'm patient and you're impatient!"

Me: "No! I was thinking more of the fact that you tend to go carefully from the details to build up the whole, while I tend to try to grasp the whole first and then work out all of the details."

I am also the type of person who turns window-scraping into a personality test, while my wife sees window scraping as...well...window scraping.

As we were both finishing up (she a little faster than me), she said: "Actually, it shows that my arms are short and yours are long!"

Me: "Oh yeah, that's true too!"

We got in the car and went on our way.

Trust: Why Does It Seem So Hard?

We must trust in Jesus. But why does this seem so hard?

If trust is something we are afraid of, then we must ask Jesus to take the fear, to heal us, to open our hearts so that we will be able to trust in Him. Whatever we are afraid of, we must bring it to Jesus, and let Mary help us.

And we must keep asking, keep praying, never give up.

God's plan for our lives is to heal our hearts and enable us to love Him. But we can't see this with our eyes. We need faith. We need to reach for God from wherever we are. He is with us and loves us and will open us up to that love in the way that He knows is good for us.

He wants us to ask for Him, not because He is holding back, but because He knows that it is by asking for His love that we open up space inside ourselves to receive Him.

I have begun to realize that I just have to give everything to Jesus. That means especially the feeling of resistance that I have toward Him, the feeling of wanting to keep myself because, in some ways, I trust myself more than Him.

I just have to give the whole big mess to Him and say, "Jesus here I am. Change what needs changing in me. Enable me to trust in You. Enable me to open myself. Come to all the hidden places where I throw up obstacles to Your love. Come to all the places where I am hurt, where I am damaged and afraid and cannot see that You are here for me."

That is my prayer. Dear good merciful Mother Mary, hold me, carry me.

The Eucharist and the Fire of God's Love

Jesus remains with us in His own reality, the wonderful gift of Himself that is the Eucharist. In the Eucharist, the mysterious act of His offering Himself to the Father for our salvation is continually "made present," and made available to our here-and-now lives so that we can join our hearts to the offering of His Heart. And from this Heart, the fount of Mercy flows, bringing us healing and empowering us to be the instruments of His Mercy in the world.

This is what the Eucharistic Liturgy means. Jesus has offered Himself once for all to the Father. But that one offering penetrates space and time and reaches us, because it is made on behalf of every human person. In the Mass the Church is enabled to offer to the Father nothing less than His Only Son, through those who are ordained to a share in the ministerial priesthood of Christ, and who offer this one sacrifice "in His Person," extending its presence throughout the world. The faithful Christian also offers Christ by virtue of his or her baptismal consecration; he or she offers the Eucharistic Christ through the ordained priest, and together with him. The Christian who offers and then receives the mystery of Christ is called to bring Him to the whole world.

The call of God's love and mercy extends beyond ourselves; He burns with love for every person, and in the Eucharist He longs to enkindle that flame in our hearts. For this reason the Christian is called to live and to manifest something new in the world. This is the world that is so poor, so confused, so struggling and seeking, so full of human persons who have been created in the image of God and redeemed by Christ, and who travel along broken paths searching for the One who loves them and calls them, but who they do not yet know. It is also the world of those who have rejected God and those who ignore God, but who He continues to seek and to draw back to Himself. God's Mercy works in their hearts, mysteriously, but it also works through us and wants to manifest itself and give itself through us. God wants the beauty and the glory of His Mercy to shine through us, so that those who are burdened by the riddle of life's meaning may see that God Himself has brought something new into history as an answer to the human question.

Here we are, poor earthen vessels of His love. We ourselves are so much in need of healing and of experiencing His love and mercy. Our mission is not one of winning over the world to our party, as if the transformation of creation somehow came from our own selves and was the construction of our own brilliance and coherence. No, our mission is to let Christ win us, and win the world with us and through us. The conversion of the hearts of others is linked to our continuing conversion, our growing in love for Him and our solidarity with all our brothers and sisters--our willingness to suffer and share all the burdens of being human.

Presentation of the Lord

Adorn your bridal chamber, O Zion,
and welcome Christ the King.
Salute Mary, the heavenly gate.
For she, the mother who has never known wedlock,
has brought into the temple
Him who shone forth before the ages from the Father,
and who in latter times was born from a virgin womb.
He who gave the law upon Mount Sinai,
makes Himself obedient to the ordinance of the law.
His mother has brought Him
to the priest and righteous elder,
whose appointed lot it was to see Christ, the Lord.
Simeon, receiving Him in his arms,
greatly rejoiced, crying aloud:
"Now, O Lord, let your servant depart in peace,
for mine eyes have seen your salvation.
The Lord of life and death,
and the Savior of our soul."

From Vespers for the Presentation, Byzantine Liturgy

Josefina Dreams of a Monster

I hope Josefina doesn't have prophetic dreams.

Today in the car she said, "I had a bad dream. There was a monster and it was chasing me. And then my Daddy came and tried to kill the monster, but the monster killed my Daddy!"

Oh dear. Her Daddy was driving the car as she was telling this to Lucia. It sounded like she had told this story already to her friends at school. I said, "What? What? If a monster ever attacked you, your Daddy would kill it for sure!" Gosh, I'm not about to let myself be killed by some monster. No way, I'll get that monster, I will!

"But this was in the dream!" she insisted. She was right, of course. If it was in the dream, then it was in the dream. I can't change that. So she continued, "The monster killed my Daddy, and then John Paul came and tried to kill the monster, but the monster killed John Paul!"

Yikes, I thought. Did we watch something recently with monsters in it? Or is it one of these books I keep reading her, like The Grouchy Ladybug or maybe a Maurice Sendak story. Monsters?

But there was more: "Then the monster...got killed! And my Daddy waked up, and John Paul waked up. They were only pretending to be dead. They were sleeping. It was very scary!"

We got home and I took her out of the car and carried her. She held onto me and said, "I don't like scary dreams!" But then, as soon as we got inside the house, she said, "I'm gonna draw a picture of the dream."

There is the picture, above. The monster is in the upper left corner, lashing out with his two long arms. Daddy can always be recognized by the hair sticking out of his chin. John Paul is on the lower left, getting killed with me while on the right the terrified Jojo watches. Wow, pretty intense! Now she doesn't want to look at the picture because "it's scary."

It often occurs to me that this little girl is the person that I spend more time with every day than any other person in the whole world. Except for her school, we are pretty much together all the time. She's often doing her own things, of course, but she's usually not very far away. My day is full of doing things for her, taking care of her, changing her clothes, making sure she eats (the girls make her lunch) and goes potty and washes her hands, putting on band-aids, and keeping a part of an eye on her always to make sure she's not getting into trouble. And we have little talks, and we read and read. Of course, she goes out to play and I run errands and things. Still, we're not separated for very long. Sometimes she just curls up in my big brown chair next to me while I'm working on the computer, and reads books to herself.

She gets into trouble all the time. She climbs on the furniture. In some ways, she still has some toddler characteristics (besides wearing toddler clothes). This is all normal for a pree-mie who went through what she had to endure in the first seven months of life. So, for example, she still has "accidents" (you know what I'm talking about)--that is definitely not fun. But we're working on that and making progress. She's smart...sometimes too smart for her own good! She has crying fits when she doesn't get her way. If I'm lucky, she'll do what I say after the third time I say it. I love Josefina and, yes, she's very cute, but she's also a pain in the neck. It's a pain I'm glad to have.

As I am writing this, I hear a little voice from behind another chair, "Daddy?" What, sweetie? "I'm still scared of the monster."

The Hollow of the Hands of God

Our hearts long for happiness, and are drawn by the goodness and beauty of reality.  Is the promise of happiness that reality holds out to us a lie?  Have we been betrayed by existence?  No.  This is the great temptation: to despair by the cynical conclusion that there is no fulfillment to the longing and the hope of the human heart; to be convinced that the universe is a trick, and that the heart must be suffocated—or, at least, distracted until it is finally swallowed up by death and ceases to torment us.

Christians, with their faith and hope for a fuller life “to come,” may be tempted to go through the motions of resignation, fulfill their “religious duties,” and nourish a secret bitterness that they have been cheated out of any possibility of finding meaning in the longing of the human heart.  They can only pass time and reconcile themselves to mediocrity and misery in a world where God is absent, and look vaguely toward a “future” life.  While such an attitude is better than despair, if this is as far as we go in enduring suffering, our relationship with God will remain narrow and constrained.

Of course, God is so good and merciful; He works with whatever feeble adherence we offer Him.  He knows how hard it is to suffer.  But He has created us to love.  Our hearts are made for God.  We can only grow in this life by recognizing Him and loving Him more.  Do I feel like I cannot love Him more?  Do I want Him to draw away, at least a little, and give me back some of my space?  Of course I feel that way, but I must pray and beg Him to teach me to love Him more, because His presence and His love are what is real in my life.

When we endure suffering, we are called to do so not with a merely stoic resignation, but with abandonment to His loving presence that is really with us and in us.  And so we endure in the conviction that God offers us His love—the only fulfillment of the human heart—here and now, in the midst of our sufferings and the plodding of our daily lives.

We are called to put our hearts on the line, to allow ourselves to be wounded by the hope that even in this darkness it is possible to love and to be loved, because He is with us and He loves us now.  And we know that love—in the end—is always worth the risk.  The abyss is the hollow of the hands of God.

--From my book Never Give Up: My Life and God's Mercy (link: http://t.co/ddwYeqX)

Morning Thoughts

Jesus, open my soul to You this day.
I offer to Your most compassionate heart
my thoughts, words, and actions;
my joys, sorrows, and sufferings.
Preserve me from sin.
Do not let me turn away from You.
Keep me in the center of Your heart.

Thank you Jesus for the gift of this day.
Give me complete trust in You.
Jesus, You are my Lord!
Jesus, I believe in Your Infinite Love for me.

Jesus, I trust in the blood and water
that poured forth from Your heart as a fount of mercy for me.
Let me answer Your cry of solitude
that longs for my love.
Let my tears touch Your face
and moisten the lips of Your unquenchable thirst for me.
Breathe forth Your Spirit into me
from Your body broken into the gift of the Father's love.

Have mercy on me and on the whole world.
Let me feel in my heart the Father's love for the world,
and bear in my own human frailty and suffering
the struggle and the seeking of that multitude of hearts
crafted in Your Image.

Jesus, You love every single human person,
without exception,
especially those who are the most lonely,
the most troubled and confused,
the most burdened with affliction.
You love those who do not know You,
but whose hearts have been made for You.

I feel the burdens and sorrows
of my brothers and sisters
in my own loneliness and troubles,
in my own confusion and restlessness,
in my affliction of not loving You enough.

Jesus, deepen my love for You today.
Draw my heart, and every heart, closer to You.
O Great Lover, win our hearts,
conquer our fears,
show us Your beautiful Face.

Jesus, I trust in You.

First Anniversary

On the first anniversary of the Never Give Up Weblog, after 287 posts, I shall simply return to the quotation with which I began one year ago:

"No gesture exists that does not involve the whole world. That's why we get up every morning: to help Christ save the world, with the strength we have, with the light we possess, asking Christ to give us more light and more strength" (Luigi Giussani).

Consecration of Home and Family

This was a special day for our family, at the end of a special week. I expect that the fruits of this day will grow in God's time, from the many seeds that have been planted by our Blessed Mother in our home and in our hearts during the time she has been with us.

Over the past week, we hosted one of the "Pilgrim Virgin" statues in our home--a replica of the original statue that stands in the apparitions chapel at the Shrine of Our Lady of Fatima. It is the image of Mary as she appeared to the three children in the countryside of Portugal in 1917. I went to Fatima almost 25 years ago, and was very deeply moved by the presence of Mary and the presence of the Church in that place.

The message of Fatima is one of prayer and reparation for sinners, of the importance of the Rosary, and of God's desire that we show special love for the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Fatima itself has become a great center for pilgrimage, but since it is meant for the whole world, the custom has also developed of carrying the "Pilgrim Virgin" statues to places all over the world, so that something of the presence and love of Mary's maternal heart can reach people everywhere.

She goes to specific places, even to people's homes, bringing Jesus with her. That is Mary's way. It has been her way since her trip from Nazareth to Judea, to stay at the house of Zechariah and Elizabeth.

This day is especially worthy of memory. At the conclusion of Mary's time with us, we had a little ceremony of family consecration to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. The image of Mary's heart was placed below the Sacred Heart that was already prominently displayed above the fireplace. It was a great blessing for our family. The Immaculate Heart (which had previously been in our bedroom) is now on the mantle piece, about a foot away from a small case containing a rendering of the Russian icon of Our Lady of Kazan.

There remains of course the large image of Our Lady of Guadalupe in the dining room. O, and there is a painting of Our Lady of Guadalupe on the other side of the living room. And the image of the Divine Mercy. And the olive wood crucifix we got in Assisi. And a statue of St. Joseph. And in between there are all these pictures and icons and statues, images cut out of magazines, pamphlets, little "holy cards"....

People who come into our home may wonder, "why pictures and statues of Jesus, Mary, and the saints everywhere?" We have not only a few, specially and prominently placed. We have them everywhere, on shelves and tables and hanging all over the walls. All over the place. In every room in the house.

We don't worship them. We are not idolaters, not at all. God has become man so that He Himself might be head of the human family. He gathers this great family around Him in the Church, and inserts our family into this vast but also intimate communion. These are the people who love us the most. We actually like to be surrounded by reminders of them. Some have particular value, some have been "blessed by the Church" (which is a personal thing, really; Jesus shares something of His life with us in this way). Most of them have some history or significance. None of them are without meaning. Gosh, they even make us "feel good"!

Do you have too many pictures of your children or your friends in your photo albums, or on your Facebook page?

Okay, maybe our house has a bit of "Catholic clutter." It corresponds to the overall colorful and rather cluttered style of our home. I am glad we have so many images, because we have so many places, and so much stuff in general. So much human stuff: it could easily seem chaotic and overwhelming (indeed, sometimes it does). But we are at least recalled to the presence and love of God in all of our nooks and crannies.

Dear Kids, We Will Always Love You

We are living the daily business of a family of growing children. Everyone is growing, in different ways. We have seen our friends’ children make it to adulthood, embark upon their vocations, and sometimes move far away. I interact with my kids in so many ways that it’s easy to take them for granted. Yet they are on their way to becoming adults. They have been created for a destiny that is greater than anything we can give them. What, ultimately, can parents say to their children? I want my children to know and experience the truth of these words, from the hearts of their parents:

What we pray for, what we keep praying for, is that you follow the love of Jesus. Don't be afraid of the difficulties or the questions. Pray and hope and bring yourself to Him just as you are, because His merciful heart is reaching out to you.

Wherever His love takes you, we will find joy in entrusting you to Him. Of course, we hope you'll be around and we will have much time together. Perhaps you will have a spouse and children of your own, and our family will grow in new ways. That would bring us many joys, and new responsibilities that we will gladly undertake. But we pray and pray that, in everything, you will belong to Him: the One who created you, who makes you to be you, Jesus, who gives Himself for you. No one else deserves that deep core of your heart. Ultimately, no one else is worthy of you except Him.

And we, your parents, have been given to you by God to lead you on the path of growing up, and then to continue to be companions with you on this journey. We are all still growing up in this world. And we have been placed together by God, as a family, to help each other. Whatever you need, ask. We can help one another, inside His great Heart of love. If anything troubles you, if you have any burden, you can share it. No matter what it is. We are not going to run away. We pray that, by the grace of the Heart of Jesus, we will always be here for you.

Even if you get lost, even if you get tangled up in problems and doubts, we will remain here for you. If you make mistakes, we pray that God's mercy in truth and love will always shine through us. If we must, we will seek you out, not to harass you but to help you if you ask, and to bear with you whatever sorrows and afflictions weigh upon you.

Most importantly, we are determined to place our trust in God's infinite love, and to remain committed to you no matter what happens in your life, so that you always know that you are loved.

Live Not By Lies

In front of life, I seek the positive, I try to pay attention and listen, to help build up what is good, and to share the sufferings of others.

I do not condemn anyone.

But there is some Evil Thing--"THE LIE"--working deeply in this culture, and we must stand and fight it, entrusting ourselves entirely to Jesus, and with love in our hearts.

It must be a love for every human person, which means an unrelenting rejection of this evil which afflicts the human person. In our society, there is open distortion and manipulation in the media, in politics, and in the laws themselves that emanate from powers within the government.

The prophetic words of Alexander Solzhenitsyn apply to our culture today: "Live not by lies!" Relying on the grace of Christ, let us each--according to our own vocations--fight "THE LIE". We can only do this with Jesus, and Mary.

Jesus I trust in You!

We Are Taking a Stand

The Department of Health and Human Services has issued a decree that will force non-profit organizations, including those with an explicitly Catholic identity, to participate directly in health care programs that go against the constant teaching and tradition of the Catholic Church. This means that many Catholics are facing the prospect of incurring civil punishment for practicing their religion.

I have dedicated my life to building Catholic educational institutions.

The executive branch of this country has overstepped the boundaries of its authority and issued a direct challenge, not only to Catholic educational institutions, but to the whole Catholic contribution to American society.

Some will say, perhaps, that this is just a detail. But details are what make up life. We show who we are by how we engage the concrete details of life. Catholic Christians across this country are willing to put their institutions, their initiatives, their works, their aspirations, and their hearts on the line. We are taking a stand, together.

We will not be "flexible" and we will not "adapt" to a government-imposed judgment about what is good for the human person, a judgment that violates our religious convictions.

We are schools, hospitals, and charitable organizations of all kinds. We make up the largest private human services network in this nation.

We have the support of our bishops; indeed the bishops have taken the initiative in this, and have charged us with responsibility for it, united by their ecclesial communion with Pope Benedict XVI.

We will fight for our religious freedom. We will fight for the freedom of the Church.

Of course, we will fight with the weapons of non-violence. An unjust law is no law at all. Thus we will refuse to obey this "law". We do not know how the coercive power of the government will respond to our refusal. How far will they go in this challenge?

What will happen to Christendom College? What will happen to my son's academy? To the Montessori Center? Certain powers in our government are threatening to impose penalties on these and other institutions that could result in their ruin. This is a challenge to the freedom of every private institution that seeks to build up our culture. Even if these powers back down (and I think they will, at least this time), they have shown openly their controlling and destructive and ugly agenda. We will have to guard our freedom henceforth with more arduous vigilance.

They have aimed their threats directly at me and my family, and all we have worked for in a lifetime of serving the community. I feel as though this bureaucratic edict trespasses on the sanctuary of my soul. It also trespasses on that realm of the spirit, which shapes the vital forces that hold communities together: the forces and the energies of the heart.

I pray that, by the grace of God, we will stand firm, come what may.

Jesus have mercy on us all!

A Day Of Penance

What can I say to reflect on the events of this day, and on the meaning of the profound and pervasive violence that afflicts our culture?

Abortion.

No one wants to think about it. Yet it's an epidemic. Violence against a defenseless child in the womb of his or her mother. Violence against a woman, who is so often left alone and desperate in a time when she is most in need of help. A kind of secret violence against this most intimate and fundamental relationship between human beings that cries out for love, support, and protection. Why is this happening in the world? We know it's not just America. Contemporary Western culture spreads this epidemic wherever it goes. Nevertheless, earnest and sincere people, who affirm the importance of human dignity, who deplore wars and conflicts between nations, seem to go blind when it comes to this fact.

There are many particular ways to approach this silent catastrophe, to work to extend legal protection to the life of every human being, and to support mothers and sustain the necessary and precious bond between mothers and their children in the womb. I agree with the way these things are addressed by many dedicated, compassionate, and articulate people. What can I add to everything that they have said? I am struck by a fundamental problem. It is the problem that strikes me again and again.

To put it very simply: What is the foundation of the dignity of the human person? The foundation is very important. It's what keeps something from blowing away when the wind gets rough. We live in a world in which there is a strong intuition, inclination, and sentiment in favor of this dignity. But that awareness and that sentiment can be uprooted in frightening ways, in the face even of compelling scientific evidence, when there is no foundation.

The dignity of the human person is founded upon--indeed consists in--his or her being created in the image of God, and his or her eternal destiny in God. The human person is the image of God. Whatever condition he or she may be in, the human person is always a someone, and therefore can never be reduced to the status of a mere thing.

The image of God. Dwell on this for a moment. The only appropriate response to the image of God is love.

God has become obscure for contemporary Western culture. And with the loss of the sense of God comes this strange paradox: even as we become more sensitive to various aspects of the dignity and value of the person, we have no way of bringing them together, and no criteria for how to apply them in complicated and difficult situations.

We would like to think we are building a kinder and gentler world. But violence pours in upon us from every side. Even as we become more attentive and more skilled in the art of saving lives in some places, we completely disregard the value of human life in others. We are divided against ourselves: wanting peace but waging war, wanting community but building walls of isolation, seeking healing yet constantly hurting one another. We want to build something beautiful and what emerges from our hands is a grand and spectacular monstrosity.

Such is the world in which God is obscured, and even the most sincere and ardent assertions and feelings about human dignity lose their bearings and cannot engage real life, real human situations, sufferings, and frailty.

I look at myself, and I see how hard it is for me to love my own children. It is not enough to acknowledge God. We must open our hearts and let ourselves be loved by Him, and love Him in return. And still the path is narrow, the path that leads to God and passes through the relationships He gives me with the real human persons who are in my life. Yet I know that here is His gift; here is where I find His face.

With all of this, my life is still full of violence, full of the daily failure to recognize the dignity of the human person in the faces of my own children, full of the forgetfulness of God.

On a day of penance, I must first of all beg forgiveness for my own sins, and resolve to take up once again the arduous struggle for healing and renewal. I do so, however, with confidence, because He offers Himself to me in His mercy. My hope and my strength is in Him.

But people try to build the world while pretending that God does not exist. How can anyone expect such a world to respect human life?

Still there is in the confused hearts of people this desire for a better world, and a better, truer life for themselves. People carry this desire in them along with all their violence that weighs them down; it endures, perhaps as a cry for help, a cry that recognizes the need for something else. In the spirit of a "day of penance," we must also take this cry into our own hearts and turn it toward the love of God: "Have mercy on us and on the whole world!"

Remembering Agnese's Feast Day

I have loved St. Agnes since I was in graduate school and I used to pray at her altar in the National Shrine, and often go to Mass at St. Agnes parish. When I lived in Rome, I found her presence to be almost palpable. She loves Rome and ordinary Romans very much.

On this day 18 years ago (hard to believe it's been that long), I went to the feast day celebration at her Basilica, and they opened the catacomb for people to freely visit the tomb. There I asked her to find me a wife, and I promised that if she did (and if the wife agreed) we would name our first daughter after her.

Two and a half years later, Eileen and I returned to Rome on our honeymoon and renewed the promise at her tomb. It was Eileen who actually who wanted the Italian name (pronounced On YAY zay). And St. Agnes continues to look after us, especially her "spiritual daughter" whom I've loved since before she was conceived. Hard to believe there was a time.

It's all so mysterious.

The Beauty of Married Love

Eileen and I watched an Iranian film a few nights ago called Leila, about the man whose wife couldn’t have children, which resulted in the end in him taking another wife. This is a custom in Islamic societies, and is permitted by Islamic law, which allows a man to have up to four wives.

It was really painful to watch. The husband and wife were committed to an exclusive love for each other (as are so many Muslim married couples in Iran and elsewhere). He was emphatically determined not to take another wife when they discovered Leila’s infertility. But his family pressured the wife to make her feel like she had to convince him to do it. The one who pushed hardest and was the most manipulative was the man's mother! (Because he was an only son--with four sisters!--and she wanted him to have, not just a baby, but a son, of course. Ay!)

The movie was extremely well done, beautifully and tenderly filmed (like so many of these wonderful Iranian films from the 1990s). It showed family life as full of affection and convivial spirit. But there was an oppression that weighed upon and seemed to sow corruption inside the family relationships, even inside spousal love. The husband and wife really loved each other and they were torn apart by this experience. Neither of them wanted him to take another wife, but the cultural expectations, the manipulative kindness and soft sentiments of the family, and the resulting confusion of their own understanding worked like discrete but implacable forces on them. There was a subtle but pervasive violence which the film artfully unmasked by the very honesty with which it was portrayed.

It was the suffocation of true human love. It was painful to watch. Eileen and I were both very troubled by it.

God's plan for the love between man and woman is so beautiful. It's a difficult beauty, like the beauty of climbing a great mountain, and sometimes you have to grab the rocks and just keep going. But there is beauty, and it's worth the sacrifices. Watching this film made me grateful for Eileen, and for our marriage which has grown and persevered through some significant trials.

What has made it possible for us to grow closer to each other, and has generated everything that is good in our home? Both of us would answer without hesitation: the grace of Christ, the grace of the sacrament of marriage! Where would we be without it? We are frail, fragile, sinful persons. We are weak. Western culture is a sea of forces waging war against so many kinds of human love, especially spousal love. Where would we be? As it is, there is beauty, and it amazes us as we recognize it, growing deeper.

All of us who are in the married state of life, consecrated to Christ by this great sacrament: let us pray for one another, support one another in fidelity, be grateful for the beauty of this gift. Let us help one another and live in solidarity as we build our families into a community which is a witness to the world. Let us help one another to treasure this beauty, and let us always beg for mercy, for without Him we can do nothing, and the best of our intentions will come to nothing.

Let us pray that people in this world will see the beauty of spousal love taken up into the mystery of Jesus, radiating His suffering and His glory.

Solidarity With The Person

When people speak, it is of course important to listen to what they have to say, and to try to understand it. But it is also important to be present and attentive to the person who speaks. It is important to appreciate and share, insofar as it is possible in one's own heart, the kind of experience that forms the vital context of what is said, and often even shapes the content or at least the mode in which it is expressed.

People speak not only to convey information, but also to communicate something of themselves, which means that genuine listening requires openness to the person. It is particularly critical to accept the person in their vulnerability and constraints, and to create an atmosphere of receptivity and welcoming attention for them. Sometimes they are trying to express their pain.

The beginning of any discussion should be solidarity with the person; willingness to travel the path with the person and readiness to suffer with the person.

Of course, that makes discussion seem like a frightening task to take up. Perhaps we must begin by acknowledging and recognizing our own limitations and fears, and being humble in front of the other person. I know I'm not good at this myself, but I'm praying that God will open my heart.

I really am bad at being humble, at listening to the other person, at solidarity. I am not voicing a pious sentiment here. I see this as a real obstacle in my relationships with others. But I also see the need for it, for myself and I think for all people. May God accomplish it within us in His time.

Every human person is created in the image and likeness of God. Every human person has dignity, and is destined for eternal life. Grant us, O Lord, the grace to love and affirm and defend the dignity of every person, to love the destiny of every person, to relieve the suffering of others, and to bear that suffering with them in solidarity.

The Poverty of Who I Am

I have begun to realize how much I talk and how little I listen. I put myself out and push myself into relationships with other people, but I am not receptive. I'm always in a kind of desperation, like I'm trying to invade the other person's interiority with all of my large, clumsy, awkward personality and then do everything I can to impress, to amaze, to draw out some reaction, to somehow get the other person to love me, because in the end I just need to be loved, so badly.

I want to be loved. And I am so afraid of being alone. This is the poverty of who I am.

Other people don't usually regard me as pushy or obnoxious. If anything it's the opposite: I don't "promote" myself enough. This may be true in the professional sphere. And with people I am "nice," accommodating, non-controversial, and always leaning on my sense of humor. I also use my intelligence to illuminate things, to encourage and inspire. But in all of this there is a "push" of myself, which comes out of the abyss of the poverty of who I am. In everything I say and do there is always this cry that says, "Please love me, accept me, approve of me, affirm me."

But why is this a problem? I am surrounded by loving, accepting, affirming people. Why, then, am I restless? Why do I feel "unloved"?

Pathology plays a part in this, undoubtedly. I describe it in my book; it is something I call "the cloud" (see Never Give Up, pp. 18-28 [http://t.co/ddwYeqX]). But "the cloud" has been brightened considerably, even since I wrote the book. My restlessness goes deeper than any pathology. It goes right to the root of who I am. I am a person. I need to be loved. And I need to love.

Where does this all end?

Of course I know the answer from the Catechism. I do not want to underestimate the fundamental importance of this basic knowledge: that I have been created by God, that God loves me, that union with God is the purpose of my existence. Yes. Millions and millions of people walk the earth and do not know this truth about themselves. That stirs something else within me, something that remains in many ways confused, but that is gradually taking hold of me and changing me.

But it takes time. I ask forgiveness from my wife, my children, my family, and my friends--indeed from all the people God has placed in my life. There is something here that echoes the desire that Alyosha discovers in The Brothers Karamazov: the desire "to beg forgiveness from everyone, for everything." And I am willing to forgive, yes, to struggle on the path of forgiveness. Forgiving but begging too, because I know that I have not loved enough.

Jesus, I bring to You my broken heart,
broken by the desire to be loved
and the confusion over how to love well and truly.
O Lord, forgive me.
I have not loved You as I should,
and I am self-seeking and divided in all my relationships.
How can I love people truly,
with the "detachment" that recognizes that they belong to You alone,
and also with the passionate attention
that recognizes in each of them
the beauty of Your image and the glory of Your redeeming power?
Jesus, open my heart to receive Your healing mercy.
Change my heart,
and make me silent,
patient, and tender,
full of awe and wonder and gratitude
before Your gift of Yourself to me
and to every person I meet.
I am so in need of healing.
I am so in need of conversion.
Have mercy on me,
and make me the person You will me to be.

From The Heart

I think that all the statements I make in my writing should be prefaced or placed in a context which says something like, "Lord, make me the kind of person who can really say this (or ask for this), from the heart."

I do believe what I say, and yet my faith is so small. I write a lot, perhaps, as a way of asking that the understanding I express in my words might grow and become more of a reality in my heart. Words are easy. But I know from the way I live, and the way I look at people, and the way I make judgments that I scarcely understand the things I say, or the mysteries to which I turn in prayer.

It is not that I lack conviction about the truth. But I am unfaithful and divided in heart, and I try too hard to hold onto things. I do not know how to love well.

Jesus, give me, in my heart, complete trust in You. Give me the capacity and the awareness that will enable me to ask You for this kind of trust.

Have mercy on me, a poor sinner.

We Can Become Lovers

The world needs Jesus. People need the love and mercy of Jesus. People need the freedom to embrace suffering in a way that does not crush them; they need to know and experience the companionship of Jesus in their suffering. People need the freedom to forgive and to let themselves be forgiven, so that wounds can heal instead of being passed through the generations until they become great scars that hinder the life of whole societies and cultures.

The love of Jesus is everything. Through His love and mercy, I can become a real lover--nothing less than a vessel of God's love. I can make God's love and mercy present in the world. If I look at myself by myself I could never hope to do this. But Jesus loves me, and promises to make me that kind of a person, to heal me and convert me and transform me into a lover. He will make me a lover of God and of human beings in the image and likeness of God, especially those entrusted to me. In asking Him to change me I have already begun to love--a new energy, a new kind of life has been awakened in me. Jesus, make me the person You created me to be.

I place my hope in Him, because I need Him, because what I am writing here comes from real life, from looking at myself, and from Eileen and I acting and thinking and struggling together; it comes from the kids who are growing and need us to care for them and respond to them in new ways. And it comes from the “gathering” of people that my writing has generated, some of whom draw strength from my work, even if it be only a small thing.

Jesus, make me the person You created me to be.

The Strength to Love

It is always a challenge to make room in my heart for the other person. When I love persons--especially those persons who have been given to me as companions in the journey of life--I let them "inside" my heart, and this means embracing their difficulties and sufferings, and making myself "vulnerable" to their faults and limitations. Such is the nature of intimate human love, which is found in different ways in spousal love, familial love, and the love of friendship.

It means that what happens in the life of the other person matters to me. Communion of life is part of the joy of love, and I often speak here about the joys and richness of the life I share with my wife and children. Of course I put forth our best side, hopefully in a realistic way. And I speak of some of the peculiar circumstances that we must suffer. But we are also very ordinary, and have all the problems of ordinary life and human relationships. These kinds of challenges are not very "topical," but they make up the stuff of most of human life.

Am I being considerate, helpful, supportive to Eileen? Am I being a true companion to my wife? Am I living my vocation as husband and father of the family? These are questions for an examination of conscience, and every day I fail in these things, I fall short, I lack love. I am either overly concerned and push myself, trying to dominate the situation, or else I am afraid and I withdraw, because I don't want to be hurt, or simply because I am too lazy. Lord, have mercy on me.

And if she fails me, do I make space in my heart to forgive her? Can I embrace the suffering that it causes me, with a merciful heart, and surround her with merciful love? Do I know that my own failures and my own suffering are surrounded and embraced and carried by a merciful Heart? Jesus I trust in You.

Eileen is preparing something in the kitchen, I am writing, the children are playing, maybe John Paul is doing his homework. What are we hoping for, and what weighs upon us? We are mysteries even to ourselves. Tomorrow is in the hands of God. This moment is His gift to me. O Lord, give me the strength to love.

Raise Me Up Again and Again

Here I am, Lord.
So inadequate.
I try to give
and yet I am wrapped up in the desire to please myself.

Still, every good thing speaks of You.
I need You. I need Your Mercy.
Open my heart to trust in Your Divine Mercy.

In front of my life,
my real life,
I discover that I cannot "do it" all by myself.
I need to pray,
I need You to sustain me,
I need You to raise me up again and again.

Have mercy on me.
Make me an instrument of Your Mercy.
Give me complete trust in You.
Jesus I trust in You.

An Attentive and Faithful Presence

The true educator does not bind people to himself, he is not possessive. He wants the child, or the disciple, to learn to know the truth and establish a personal relationship with it. The educator does his duty to the end, he does not withdraw his attentive and faithful presence; but his objective is that the learner hears the voice of the truth speak to his heart and follows it on a personal journey (Benedict XVI, Homily for January 8, 2012).

As usual, Pope Benedict provides a succinct but profound meditation in these words, and here he addresses the reality of teaching and learning. This is something I have been living all my life, in various aspects: as a "child" myself (a seeker of truth), a student, a professor, a friend, a writer; as someone who tries to share his own experience and understanding, and who seeks in turn to be receptive to what others can show him; someone who tries to offer his life and talents to doing works of mercy, and who is desperately in need of mercy.

The more we come to know the truth--not an ideological scheme or agenda, but the truth about reality--the more we realize that all truth speaks of the Mystery that is the source and meaning of everything, a Mystery that is Personal in the deepest sense, and who calls us to a living relationship with Himself. In presenting us with all the wonderful facets of reality, truth whispers to the heart that it is worthy of adherence and affirmation; it discloses all the goodness and beauty of reality, and thereby points to the One who is Good and Beautiful. Thus we affirm the truth with conviction and joy, and thus we continue to seek it.

The true educator points to the truth, not to his or her self. The truth, ultimately, is the Infinite Mystery who creates and calls the heart of every person. There have, of course, been people throughout history who have proposed themselves as "the answer" for others. They are the manipulators, the violent, the abusive characters of history and of life--in their "purest" form, they are the cult leaders and totalitarian dictators of history. They betray the relationship of persons which ought to exist between teachers and students, leaders and followers. They turn people into slaves, and they destroy families, communities, cultures, and societies.

But there was one man who was different. Once in history, a man came and said, "I am the Truth." Once in history a man said, "come to me, follow me" and that man was not abusive and manipulative. He transformed those who followed Him. They became, not less human, but a hundred times more profoundly human, and more than that, they themselves became reflections of the Mystery; they became--in a unique way--witnesses to the presence of the Mystery dwelling among us in this man. And their followers have carried the light of the hope of the human race down through the centuries, keeping it alive even in the midst of all their human frailty, and bearing witness to all the peoples of the world.

Jesus Christ is totally unique in history. He and He alone stands before the human person--with integrity, with spectacular greatness and goodness and beauty--and says, "who do you say that I am?"

The answer to this question is a continual source of amazement to me. The Mystery that sustains all of reality became a man. Thus everyone's "personal journey" to a "relationship with the truth" finds its true path and its fulfillment in Him. Billions of human beings don't really know Him. Still, if they are searching for the truth, they are searching for Him. In fact, it is He who is calling their hearts. He has come for each and all. He loves them. There is much that is mysterious about this, but for Christians it should inspire a great desire to make Him known to all the world. For as Blessed John Paul II said, "every human person has the right to know the truth that Jesus Christ came for him."

The Infinite Mystery reveals Himself by becoming man in order to give Himself to us. He comes as loving mercy, to be our path and our sustenance and our fulfillment. He comes for the "personal journey" of each one of us, and He draws close to that personal dignity and the special quality, attractions, capabilities and aspirations that distinguish each of our hearts. We have been created to give ourselves in love. He knows who we are destined to be by means of that gift, and He empowers us to achieve it. He gives to all things their attractiveness and beauty and meaning, and then He draws all things to Himself.

The fact that all things find their fulfillment in Him does not mean that things are reduced to "religious stuff" (inasmuch as we conceive of "religion" as a collection of merely human rules and invented schemes and theories). It means that He really is the Mystery: "all things were created through Him, all things were created for Him." His "particularity" in history and in our lives is not meant to suffocate us. Rather it shows that in Him we really will find the fullness of life; indeed we will find "eternal life." His particularity in the life and worship and ministry of the Church brings the Mystery of God close to us and communicates it to us, so that we might live forever as God's children, and so that we might see the vividness of God's mercy and goodness in every aspect of this earthly life, in its joys and hopes and sufferings.

What, then, can someone like me--a "professional teacher"--possibly offer to my students, my friends, my children? What can I, who claim to be an educator, possibly do for them? Can I be an instrument through which they might "hear the voice of the truth," with all of my inadequacy and all my weaknesses? I shall fail again and again. My own personality will get in the way. There are always too many words, too much desire for my own success, too much of the sneaky way in which I try to insert myself into the Christian witness. It is the pharisaical temptation to want for myself some of the awesome attention of the human religious sense, an attention that is meant to be directed to God alone. I want people to know God's love, and yet, like every human being, my inclinations for appreciation, recognition, and success are out of control. Insofar as these inclinations are not ruled by charity and mercy, the "voice of truth" is weakened and can even be obscured. Hypocrisy is almost unavoidable in those who claim to teach about the ways of God, because we fall short of Him in so much.

Still, I must try, and entrust all my efforts to Him. For this is an essential part of my own personal journey.

In many ways, my own children bring things down to earth. The vocation of fatherhood awakens a tenderness for them, and a perception of the uniqueness of each of them, an awe in front of them. The educative task of a father is clearly more than a discourse; it requires a witness. The children need my living witness to the truth. They need the "attentive and faithful presence" of their father. I must "do my duty to the end," which is to love them not possessively, but for the sake of their destiny.

I must be an attentive and faithful presence for them as each of them discovers the path of his or her vocation. I pray that I might rejoice in seeing the particular quality of love in His gaze upon each of them within the circumstances of their lives.

Fatherhood brings me to my knees. I realize that I cannot care for what has been entrusted to me except by depending completely on Him. It makes me remember once again the truth of my own journey, and the Mercy that enables me to make that journey as it unfolds before me.

Walking Around The Neighborhood

So far we've had a mild November, a mild December, and a fairly mild January. I'm glad. It's given us a chance to have some nice walks around the neighborhood. We've walked the streets of our neighborhood for eleven years. I've walked alone. I've walked with Eileen. And then there has always been "Daddy and the kids." Spontaneous walks don't often involve the whole family; usually it's one parent and some kids. I hope that will change, now that Josefina is finally getting big enough.

New Year's Resolution: Walks for the whole family. We should plan them.

The other day, I was out with the four oldest (Josefina and Mommy didn't come). I've been walking with this crew for years, since the days when nine year old Teresa was in a stroller. They were all so little. I had to shepherd them to the side of the road all the time (we don't have sidewalks out here). Now they're a competent and capable crew. But they are still young. They keep me young at heart.

This is our neighborhood in the Shenandoah Valley, where we walk out our front door and gaze at some of the oldest mountains in the world. It's too easy to take it for granted. This is such a wonderful place. We are within a ten minute drive of so many things, yet this is a quiet spot. If we had more money, we'd probably move somewhere else, but I don't think we'd be more happy than we are right here.

This is our estate, in the bright cold sun of a January afternoon. In the summer, the trees are so full that it's hard to see the house. The bareness of winter has it's own beauty, revealing hidden vistas and giving us a more ample horizon. It lets us see the sun setting closer to the base of the trees that surround us all through the neighborhood, and it reveals more of the colors and shades of the sky. When the weather is mild, winter can be charming in Virginia.

Yes, we live in the famous Valley. It seems as though half the streets around here are named after the heroes of the Army of Northern Virginia. Stonewall Jackson marched not far from here, and the echoes of that epic and traumatic and terrible war--which some people call "the first modern war" --still shake these trees.

In our time it is a peaceful place, and yet no one can say how long that will last. What will this year bring? What events loom in the future? No one can say. But we do have this afternoon, and the kids and I can enjoy it. I love being involved in their lives. I have had to slow down many things, and sometimes I have felt frustrated by that fact, but I do have time for the children. This is something that I will never regret. And I can see that it has done them good.

One week ago, I turned 49 years old. I do not think of us as "old parents," but rather as having a "young family." Some of my friends are already grandparents, which is nice because it shows us that it is possible to survive the upcoming stages in our own family history. In mind and aspiration, I feel ten or more years younger than I am. Josefina's teenage years are going to take me well into my sixties, God willing, so it's just as well that I stay youthful in spirit.

But I always tend to get ahead of myself. These days are blessed. I am grateful for them. I can do something today that is good, that builds up my children, my friends, perhaps even you who are reading this.

This is something that we must also remember when we are in pain, or when we are alone. How hard it is to remember, when we are afflicted. The goodness of reality is something we know when we watch the glowing sky through the trees on a winter afternoon. The moments of pain are also mysteriously good. Could it be possible that, in the end, emptiness wins? Never.

Here I am, relaxing in front of someone else's estate (hahaha!):