Tuesday, April 29, 2014

The Janaro Family Goes to Washington

Heading to the big city
I promised a post and more pictures from our family fun day in Washington, D.C. last week, and with good reason. It was fun! Not like hold-on-to-the-edge-of-your-seats kind of fun. It was a day of being together and sharing in a little adventure.

I went to school in Washington, D.C. I worked there. I lived in the D.C. area. All of that was more than 20 years ago. I can't think of a time when the whole Janaro family -- all seven of us -- went into the city. All we did was go to a couple of museums and hang around the Mall (not a shopping mall, but the long park between the Washington Monument and the Capital Building).

I also grew up in cities, whereas my kids are small town and country born and raised. Which means that they are thrilled and amazed in ways that I will never understand, by activities such as riding the Metro.

"Wow, this is incredible!"
John Paul is veteran Metro rider, having gone to Nats & Caps games, but he still likes it.
Agnese and Teresa: there were plenty of seats but they wanted to stand just for fun!
Lucia looks cool, but if you can see her dimples you know she's having fun.

We got off at the "Smithsonian" station, had our lunch and goofed around a little. The Mall has a leisurely feel to it, even in the middle of the week. It doesn't feel like you're in the capital city of the most powerful nation in human history.

Agnese and the Washington Monument: Are we tourists or what?
John Paul is cool.
"Can we just have the picnic now, please?"

Okay, we eat and then we're off to the sculpture garden and the art museum. The sculpture garden is, well, interesting, with things like this metal tree:

If this ever blossoms, it really will be time for "the return of the king"!
John Paul explains the deep existential significance of this... umm... thingy.
Eileen at the Chagall mosaic, which is amazing (much better than this photo).

Inside the National Gallery of Art, we went through the regular (and quite remarkable) collection, and we were allowed to take pictures. So I took hundreds of pictures with my phone. It used to be, strictly, no pictures, but now you just click away. Phone pictures are not that great, but it's fun just setting them up, looking at the work from different angles, discovering details. And of course, sometimes you just stop and look.

Pictures of a few works that I might not have otherwise noticed, such as:




And many other beautiful works. We spent a lot of time on our feet, but there are plenty of lovely and atmospheric places in the Gallery to rest also:

Josefina relaxes by a fountain.

Then it was off to the Museum of Natural History. We didn't have too much time here (and by then I was out of gas, so I spent most of that time on a bench), but we did get to see THE DINOSAURS. Just in time too: this whole section is closed as of this week for renovations that will take several years.

Josefina thought the dinosaurs were creepy. It took some cajoling to get her to stand in front of one so I could take a picture. She enjoyed the smaller exhibits like the fossils:

"AHHHH! Do I have to smile?"
Prehistoric sea is more in the comfort zone. "Is that real?"

I realize that unless you are the grandparents of these children (Hi Dad, hi Mom!) you're bored by now, so it's time for us to go home:

Back out to the Mall. Clouds in the late afternoon.
Escalators are fun too!

I highly recommend doing lightly planned little trips with the family. Don't try to do too much and don't have huge expectations, but just enjoy what's there and enjoy being together. It's worth it.

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Popes and Saints: Our Fathers and Brothers in Eternal Life

Icon photos for the two pope saints
What can I possibly add to this astonishing, beautiful day? I just want to recount a few anecdotes on why it means so much to me.

I was born on January 2, 1963, and one reason I was named "John" was in honor of the remarkable man who was Pope at the time. On that day, 51+ years ago, my mother was giving birth while my father was in the waiting room outside: (Can you believe fathers used to have to do that?!)

But that was both the custom and the rule of those distant days. Personally, I'm glad I got to be with my wife, and to see each of my five children being born. My father, however, had to wait outside, like in the old comedy shows where the Dad is pacing nervously around the room, waiting for the nurse to come in with a bundle and say, "It's a boy!"

My Dad wasn't pacing, though. He was reading LIFE magazine's spread on the opening of the Second Vatican Council. Thus, in a different kind of way, he did "see" something pertaining to his new son, something pertaining to the work to which this "John" would dedicate himself in life. It was, perhaps, in some small way "prophetic."

Pope (now Saint) John XXIII and the Council he called (from LIFE, Dec. 1962).

John XXIII died only a few months after I was born, yet his was a visible figure in the early years of my life. I remember when I was about four years old, my mother -- while folding the laundry -- told me about this "Council," and how many people were spreading confusing ideas in its wake, but that she had read a book by a philosopher who was also a peasant (Maybe I asked, "What's a peasant?" and maybe she said, "it's like a farmer"). My Mom, and many others too, thought that the philosopher-farmer had brought great clarity to the whole situation (and I pictured in my mind some unusual person in overalls and pitchfork: I suspect that Jacques Maritain wouldn't have objected much to this imaginative portrayal of himself). In any case, it was clear that John XXIII's Council had begun something dramatic, and my little heart jumped at the thought that there was this great world of truth.

I've spoken about the powerful influence of St. John Paul II when he first appeared in 1978, speaking the words, "Be not afraid... Open the doors wide to Christ!" All through the 1980s he shaped my thinking and experience of the faith, my sense of belonging to the Church, my sense of what life was all about.

I still have a tee shirt (and it still fits!)
I finally saw him in person in 1993, first in Rome and then at the unforgettable World Youth Day in Denver, Colorado. America put on a "show" for John-Paul-the-Rock-Star, and all of us were ready to be excited by something trivial. But as soon as he began to speak, he took control of this vast crowd. He totally changed the atmosphere, and it was something more than his massive, attractive personality. It was a mysterious Presence that was not him, but that he gave all his energy so that we might recognize and remain focused upon for the rest of the weekend.

St. John Paul and hundreds of thousands of young people spent the weekend with Jesus Christ. Those of us who were there will never forget it.

Then came that great moment, on July 3, 1996. The young John and Eileen Janaro, on honeymoon in Italy, got "newlywed tickets" to a Wednesday audience. Finally, we met and spoke with this man to whom we both owed so much. We asked him to bless our marriage, and he traced the sign of the cross on our foreheads. We spoke, and he gave us that great, intense personal attention. But there was something I had never sensed (up to that point) from a distance: it was his real humanity, his vulnerability, the frailty that was woven through all his strength.

John Paul II really gave himself. He was not "going through the motions." And the most amazing thing was that he didn't hide himself in any way. It mattered to him that he was meeting us; this was a moment of relationship. We were just totally hugging him and saying "we love you" and I felt like he needed that. He too was a human person, and he received and valued the love we expressed to him. The way he responded was totally real; he said, "thank you" and he meant it.

John Paul II was our brother, who suffered so greatly on so many levels, and he allowed us to see that. There were few of the symptoms of his physical illness at that time, but somehow he allowed us to see his need, so that we could love him and he could receive our love. For a moment we were "with" him, we were actually "helping him."

Mexico, 2002. A saint canonizes a saint.
I saw St. John Paul II two more times after that, in Mexico City; first in 1999 and then for St. Juan Diego's canonization in 2002. On the latter occasion some 12 million people crowded into the city and lined the streets of his route to the Basilica. By this time John Paul II could barely move, he was so crippled. I watched him in that special stand-up popemobile and the love was pouring out of him, and I thought, "this is like he has the stigmata...."

His natural human charisma was crucified in the end. That's when I really knew he was a saint.

And now, today, I am full of gratitude to both of these saints of my lifetime. I am grateful for their witness and their intercession. Both, I think, have watched over our family through three generations. Not long ago, St. John XXIII quietly came back into our lives, when Eileen and the kids (and me too) got involved in the work of the John XXIII Montessori Children's Center. And I know that St. John Paul II is my father and my brother in the Spirit. I pray to him every day. He has been with us through so many trials, and he continues to care for us.

I believe that what he has given to the Church and to the world has only begun to be discovered.

Saturday, April 26, 2014

These Days Are Rich in Mercy


Especially through His lifestyle and through His actions,
Jesus revealed that love is present
in the world in which we live: 
an effective love,
a love that addresses itself to man
and embraces everything that makes up his humanity.
This love makes itself particularly noticed
in contact with suffering, injustice and poverty,
in contact with the whole historical "human condition,"
which in various ways manifests man's limitation and frailty,
both physical and moral.
It is precisely the mode and sphere
in which love manifests itself
that in biblical language is called "mercy."

        ~John Paul II
          Dives in Misericordia (1980), #3

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Christ is Risen, but I'm Exhausted!

"Dear Lord, may I borrow my future resurrected body, in advance (as in, like, now), just so I can keep up with everybody else for a few days?"

I love Easter Week. Divine Mercy novena, flowers, warm spring air, a fridge full of fun food, kids off school and relaxing and just being around one another. Eileen has a little time to breathe (but still plenty to do -- she'll get more breathing time in the summer, God willing).

We are going to take a family field trip on Thursday to Washington, D.C. Everyone is excited about it. I'm excited too... on the inside. But my body doesn't want to go anywhere.

I'm going on this field trip with my family. I don't care what it takes! John Paul is turning 17 in a little over a month. He will be a senior in high school in the fall. From there we know not yet where he will go. And Agnese won't be long in going her way. The family is growing, and this is beautiful. I want them to spread their wings and fly.

I also want to be available for the time we have together.

But I'm so tired. I've had some pain in the past few months, and I'm spending more time in bed during the day (although at least I have a tablet to keep me connected to the world, and even to write a bit). I also read as much as I can.

Physical books are lovely things. Tactile with pages that turn. And they are gentle to the eye. For me, it's hard to rest with an ebook. The light from the inside jacks up my brain, somehow. On the other hand, they're good on days when it's hard to hold open the pages of a physical book.

Josefina having adventures with her dolls.
Then there's Josefina, who comes bounding in to jump on the bed and visit me. I read to her, or we watch a video. Sometimes we just "talk" -- she says, "Daddy, can we talk?" So we talk about things, like her dolls and their adventures, or school things, or cooking, or questions about the body and the soul and death (she's been asking those questions since way back). Sometimes I just say, "Why don't you get a book to read yourself, and I'll read my book?" Heh, it's worth a try....

Well, if I'm going to make that trip, I need to budget my limited energy, so I shall put aside for now the particularly tiring work of writing. I also need to save up some energy in case Josefina wants to "talk" some more!


Wishing everyone a very happy Easter Week!

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Happy Easter 2014: May All Our Moments Be Filled

The Janaros, Easter 2014. John and Eileen; John Paul (almost 17),
Agnese (15 1/2), Lucia (13 1/2), Teresa (11) and Josefina (7 1/2)

Tulips in the church yard. Spring has finally come.

At the church: Christ is Risen, Alleluia! He is Risen Indeed, Alleluia!

Teresa and Josefina, the "little kids"!

Going for the goodies in the Easter Basket.

This is NOT "cake" for breakfast. No one eats cake
for breakfast! This is a "cheese danish."

Picnic in the afternoon. At the Virginia Arboretum.

Picnic hamper.

A fine picnic feast!

An Uncle-to-Nephew talk.

After playing hard, Josefina enjoys the food too.

Nature's beauty is everywhere to be found.

Nature's beauty.

Blue Ridge in the distance.

Our prayers go out to all of our loved ones and friends that they might be blessed with all the joy of this Easter season. Jesus is risen, and may all our moments be filled with the newness of His glorious life.

Alleluia!

Saturday, April 19, 2014

The Easter Triduum: Finding Again the Depths of Love

These are the most beautiful days of the year. These are the days when we permit ourselves to be silent within, to allow our minds and hearts to turn again, to be converted and changed by that great and singular event of history: the event that defines the meaning of all reality and of each and every one of us who has ever lived.

I am silent now. There is the glory of God.

The Cross is the Glory of God.
"Jesus answered them, ‘The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.... Now is the judgement of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all things to myself’" (John 12:23, 31-32).
I am silent now. I find within myself so much that is sinful, and broken, and unworthy; and the depth of it all seems bottomless. But the love of God is deeper.

Jesus.
________________________

The Young John Janaro was eloquent about his experience of the Easter Triduum in the year 1991. I like what he wrote in his journal, and so I shall present it here as we journey through this night to Paschal dawn.


Friday, April 18, 2014

An Unequaled Suffering

Rouault, The Passion
"Offering himself freely in his passion and death on the cross, the Son of God took upon himself all the evil of sin. The suffering of the Crucified God is not just one form of suffering alongside others, not just another more or less painful ordeal; it is an unequaled suffering. In sacrificing himself for us all, Christ gave a new meaning to suffering, opening up a new dimension, a new order: the order of love."

Blessed John Paul II, Memory and Identity

Georges Rouault (1871-1958), Crowned with Thorns


Georges Rouault (1871-1958), Christ on the Cross


Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Have We Allowed the Seeds of Betrayal to Enter Our Hearts?

Giotto (14th c.), detail of Judas
Judas clearly chose to betray Jesus. This was no sudden impulse. It was a premeditated decision to sell his Master for money.

But why? Surely, Judas had once loved Jesus. He left everything to follow Him. How did this love die?

It probably began slowly. Perhaps what happened to Judas, in the beginning, was the same thing that happens so often to us.

As the fervor of his first love was tested, and as he began to realize that Jesus and His plan were not like his initial hopes, Judas allowed disappointment to creep into his love. Over time, his love for Jesus grew cold, even though he continued to “go through the motions” of discipleship.

As disappointment grew into bitterness, his heart turned to other loves: money, personal ambition, independence, perhaps even the desire to follow someone else. We don’t know.

But we face the same temptation to betray someone we love. Consider our commitment to our marriage. Time inevitably reveals that our spouse is different, and that God’s plan for our marriage is different than we first imagined. Here we are challenged: Will we trust in God, be faithful, and allow love to grow? Or will we give in to disappointment, begin to seek other loves, and slowly betray the other person (and God) even as we still “go through the motions”?
Father of love, protect our hearts from the disappointment that leads to betrayal, and grant us the faith to follow your mysterious and loving plan, rather than selfishly clinging to our own expectations. We ask this in the name of Jesus your Son, who has loved us to the end. Amen.

[Published in Magnificat Lenten Companion, 2014, p. 60]

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Jesus, Death... and Taxes


And so, it's April 15th. Less than two hours to go.

If you are an American, no further comment is necessary. You know that today is a day of penance, even when it doesn't fall during Holy Week. Of course, not everyone waits until the last minute. Maybe you filed weeks ago. Maybe you're getting a refund.

Still, today is a day that we all must remember the fragility of our lives at the hands of the powers of this world. Even those who benefit from the system know that it is a ponderous, ambivalent, and sometimes capricious patron.

They say that there are two things that cannot be avoided in this life: Death and Taxes. It seems to me not insignificant that the One who embraced death for us all began His life by being enrolled in the census. The Savior of the world was born in Bethlehem with the help of the Roman imperial bureaucracy and its tax system.

Joseph the Builder paid taxes. Jesus paid them too, in the many years of His quiet labor. When God took human nature, He became one of the multitude in the empire of Caesar. He Himself bid us to pay lawful taxes, to "render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's" (Mark 12:17).

So today, even as we recognize Caesar's authority to tax our money, we remember also that we must render to God what belongs to God, our consciences. Yet God seems so far away when the forces of the world loom over us. It would seem like nothing for worldly power to crush the human conscience if it could not corrupt it.

And if there were nothing but worldly power and then death, what hope would we have? Where would we, who sin for the sake of convenience, find the strength to adhere to truth at all costs?

Only Jesus has defeated death, and in so doing has affirmed that the relationship of the human person to God is greater than every earthly power. Our strength is in Him.

Monday, April 14, 2014

Cherry Blossoms and Holy Week Together: Must I Be Sad?

If I take their picture, will they last forever?
The cherry blossoms are finally in their glory.

I saw the pictures from the banks of the Potomac river in Washington D.C., but we have them here too, 70 miles away, lining Main Street Front Royal and popping up in clusters, here and there, all over town.

They are always a sign that Spring is taking hold. Some types have the cherry streaks, but many are bright white, as if the touch of warm air has transformed the very snow into flowers.

I realize that the lovely weather of recent days is going to cool off this week, and even bring some frost. Poor folk in the northeast and midwest are even supposed to get more snow! Oh, but it will melt right up.

While life bursts all around us, we walk the path of Holy Week. Perhaps that seems incongruous. Spring has finally come, and now we must be gloomy and think about death?

At this time of year, life is new and fresh and full of promise, but only for a season. The promise is fulfilled in growth and fruit and harvest, and then there is the sleep of Winter again. The beauty of things wounds us with longing. It whispers "forever" to our hearts and then it fades. Perhaps we should just not think about all that and simply enjoy the flowers. Still, the flowers will fade. The time will pass. The "forever" that life whispers... where in this world can we find it?

Holy Week is not a time to brood upon death. Death haunts us all the time (whether we brood or not). Death presses everywhere against the limits of our lives, in the exhaustion of our paltry loves, in the inexorable advance of weakness as all the seasons pass and the beauties fade.

Holy Week does not come to haunt us with death. It comes to awaken us to a greater hope.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Palm Sunday: What Really Happened


Palm Sunday

"Exult greatly, O daughter Zion!
Shout for joy, O daughter Jerusalem!
Behold: your king is coming to you,
a just savior is he,
Humble, and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey."


--Zechariah 9:9

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Would Jesus Have Made the Cover of TIME Magazine?


Inside the magazine: Dateline Jerusalem, April 13, 0033

Here He comes! Everyone in Jerusalem is talking about Him.

He was just voted the most popular and the most influential man in Israel for the past year, beating out both the high priest Caiaphas and Herod. He has been hailed as the Son of David, the King of Israel! He is the enormously popular new rabbi, Jesus of Nazareth.

At today's Jerusalem rally, adoring crowds roared, "Hosanna!"

"We really think that Jesus can make a difference. He'll change things around here," said one observer.

"Jesus is great," said another, "We've been waiting for this moment since that time in the desert when he multiplied the bread. Just think what this will do for the economy!"

"And we can stop worrying about affordable health care," said another, "because he can just cure everybody. Problem solved!"

There is still no official confirmation of the report that Jesus is about to declare his candidacy for "Messiah," but his approval ratings in the polls have never been higher. There is no doubt that the Jesus Effect is being felt everywhere. He is the most popular rabbi in the world.

Even the opposition seems to recognize the fact. Leading Pharisees are reportedly saying to one another, "You see that you [i.e. we] are gaining nothing. Look, the whole world has gone after him" (John 12:19).

Nevertheless, the opposition coalition of Pharisees, scribes, and priests continues their nightly strategy sessions, and there are some reports that indicate they may have established contact with a disgruntled high ranking member of the Jesus Campaign. So this story may yet contain some surprises.

As of now, Pontius Pilate's office has made no comment.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Blogging: A Small Gift of Love I Offer to You

The Internet "thingy" that connects us.
What am I trying to do when I blog? I am trying to give of myself, because as a human being I am impelled by the urgent desire to offer what I am and have--as a human being I want to love. I am also trying to open myself up and show myself and ask to be loved, because I am a human being and I need to be loved. I want to love and to be loved.

So I write because I want to love, to affirm and to give goodness. And I don't want it to be fake. This means I want truth. And I don't want it to be boring. This means I want beauty.

This is what I want to do in my writing. I want it to be a gift of love.

I say this not as a theory, but as a judgment. I know that this is true. I know that the motor of my life is love. It is a judgment drawn from experience. My humanity is alive inside me because I have been loved. The experience of being loved awakens the human heart. The difference between living a human life and living a life of desperation is the awareness of being loved. And this awareness is grounded on, and continually nourished by, the experience of being loved.

It began in childhood. I have had problems, and sicknesses, and mental distress since childhood. But these are the consequence of illness. Beneath them all was the radical security that came from being loved by my parents. As I came to maturity, I met people who loved me--sometimes in very simple ways--and I grew. I finally met a woman who loved me with a love that embraced me in a way I didn't deserve, to which I wasn't entitled, and which I could not earn. It was a gift. Beyond attraction and common interest and sympathy of personality there was that radically undeserved love, a love that could not be grasped, but only received according to the form of a gift, within the space created by a gift in return. And so we were married.

It was the great sign that radical, undeserved, gratuitous love was the foundation and sustenance of my life. And it remains a sign that grows. It is a gratuitous love that overflows and is fruitful.

I need this sign to continually manifest itself, if I am to remain convinced in the reality of my heart that I have been created to love and to be loved. Every day I need to place myself in the position of receptivity to the love of my wife, and my children. I must acknowledge my need, my poverty, and that my capacity to give is founded on the fact that I am a gift. I am loveable. I see it in the simplest things in the day, such as when I am hungry and my wife makes pasta, because she loves me. The kids want me to read them a story, or help them with their work, or have a conversation with me not just because of their own needs because they want me. They love me. Why am I wanted? Why are there these people in my life who say to me, "it is good that you are you, that you exist"?

They are witnesses that I am created by love, that I am given to myself in love, that I am worthy. And this engenders in me the desire to give myself, because goodness wants to be shared, to be given away. It is not afraid of being lost. And so I am writing, in the confidence that these words are a gift, even if only a fragile one. I want to tell you that it is good that you exist. I know that. And I want you to experience it, and be sustained by it.

Let us love one another....

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

The Foundation of Our Social Problems (Part 1)

Our world as seen by Google
Clearly the world is in a great deal of trouble. Many good people are engaged in practical action, dialogue, and the kind of realistic negotiations that are so often necessary to maintain a fragile peace or to secure fundamental human rights.

This work is necessary, and indeed heroic because it requires immense energies and creativity to find ways to patch up a crisis or bring some measure of relief or protection in situations that require continued vigilance. Social problems are never solved once and for all. They must be grappled with again and again.

The human ideal remains elusive in this world, and yet the human quest for justice and compassion must press forward here and now, placing its ultimate hope in something greater than our capacities.

It is important to reflect upon the roots of the particular social malaise of today: roots that are as old as human history and yet have a particular significance for our times because our society has obfuscated these roots in unprecedented ways. This is a challenge to us to look explicitly at what so many are trying desperately to evade, and make sure that we ourselves do not forget these roots and the urgent need to address them.

Beneath so many of the problems of our society it is possible to recognize a foundation (or, rather, the profound sense of an absence of foundation). Human beings have no sense of the ground upon which they stand. Often today this is evident in the most basic circumstances. People are disconnected from the human foundations of their own families, and they lack the experience of social stability or of any traditions or customs. They lack any strong human investment in a particular place or a community, and it is difficult to find sustaining motivation for constructive activity or commitment.

Underlying all this human instability is a more radical, existential insecurity. Our society feeds this insecurity insofar as it pretends that the human world is a self contained entity filled with inexplicable yet also autonomous human beings. Our social environment says that human persons come into existence from nowhere and live for nothing, and at the same time that they are invested with the power to act and the freedom and responsibility to define themselves.

It is a bipolar vortex between insignificance and urgency. The human person feels as if he or she is just "here" in time and space, hanging onto existence by a slender thread, and yet wanting to be here, to be and to be more, although the person does not know how or why. There is no foundation, and it is terrifying to just hang here swinging one's legs over an abyss of extinction. Not surprisingly, the person looks for something, anything, that has the appearance of security; something that feels like solid ground on which to stand.

Of course, people don't often feel consciously the naked terror of having no identity, no foundation, no reason for existing. It's an unbearable experience, and most of the time the survival instinct kicks into gear and people quickly find some reason, some seemingly solid reality in the world that will give them a purpose for existing; something they can belong to. Or else they bury themselves in external distractions. But even with the wildest distractions, the feeling lingers subconsciously and so people feel compelled to say things like "I'm trying to find myself."

The presupposition in this society is that your own bare self exists in radical solitude and lack of definition and value. You have no value unless you have found something or someone (or some cause or group) that gives value to you.

No wonder we are so desperate.

No wonder we sink ourselves so readily into factions and ideologically driven groups that wear labels. They give us a sense of belonging. They "validate" our existence.

And no wonder we are willing to wage ruthless war against any idea, group, or person who opposes our faction, or questions its adequacy. We have become convinced that it's a matter of survival, that our identity is at stake -- the very meaning of our existence.

But wait. Do I really belong to nothing in myself? In this moment, am I simply "here," scrambling to assert myself into a self-defined meaningful identity?

Let me, JJ, consider what I experience about myself right now. I would say that I'm here in this moment trying to write something coherent, trying to communicate with others, so as to serve them (and to be appreciated by them -- haha, let's be honest). I want to be "in union with other people," or rather to deepen my union with them.

I find myself "here," in this moment, in a way that can seem frightening but in reality is challenging and dramatic. I am here with a need. I need goodness, love, and not only appreciation but also self-giving. Yes, there is a profound anxiety and lack of self-confidence in me, a fear of nothingness, a sense of insignificance and an impulse toward self-assertion -- but that is not all there is to my being. There is also the fundamental desire to give myself, the intuition of a richness that wants to share itself. I know that my existence is good. No matter how obscure it may seem, I know that I am grounded in something fundamentally, radically good, and that I am responsible to that good, which is the root of me and at the same time "other" than me.

We live in such fear. But what is fear? It is the response to the possibility of losing something. This implies that something is already there, something more fundamental than our fear. It is goodness, truth, and beauty: fundamentals of existing that we do not define.

It is the fact that we are given to ourselves by Another, that our existence is rooted, firmly, in the love of Another. But this Other is beyond anything in the world. The world everywhere points to this Someone, and opens up a journey to seek His fullness, and to belong fully to Him and thus to everyone and everything else.

I exist as "gift" of this Someone, and so I am truly myself by being a gift, by giving myself, by loving.

Our society needs to grow more into an environment that affirms the value of the human person as created by God and called to give his or herself in love ever more fully to God and to others according to God's wisdom. Foundational human experience is complex and ambivalent because human persons have a brokenness; they are burdened with an affliction. They are overwhelmed by anxiety and a desperate sense of the need to create their own identity, because their connection to the transcendent Mystery, the creating, sustaining, infinitely loving Other, so often seems shrouded and obscured.

And this obscure ambivalence in our self understanding is rooted in the whole of human history and its origins, the "original sin" which is the cause of the divided heart that we all experience within ourselves. We cannot pretend that it's possible to ignore these basic truths about the human person and still find real solutions to social problems or make the world a more human place. This is the basis of the human problem, and we must not forget it. No theory or political or economic system is going to make it go away. We need to be aware of it, and as much as possible help others to be aware of it. Of course, we also want to remember and witness to others the answer that God Himself has provided, the miracle of His presence among us.

We do not need to make ourselves or find something that gives value to our being. We have been made, we have value, we are loved. We need to be healed and to grow into our true greatness, to attain the likeness in love of the One who loves us.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

The Realization of Freedom

"It is in the total dimension
of our fulfilment
that freedom will be realized,
according to its entire nature,
as capacity for total satisfaction.
Freedom is the capacity for the infinite,
the thirst for God.
Freedom, then, is love,
because it is the capacity for something
that is not us:
it is Another."

~Luigi Giussani

Monday, April 7, 2014

Spring is "Springing"... Sort Of

Well, they are not very peppy, but here they are: forsythias at long last! They are weighted with morning dew here, and there are still spots on the bush that have yet to bloom.

But we're so happy that the month of March has finally come to Virginia. (That's not a mistake; it's a joke.)

Nature is emerging in a cagey way, as if she wants to make sure that this is not another trick. I think we're okay this time. There are even rumors of cherry blossoms coming.

Saturday, April 5, 2014

Our Children are Made For God

In my last post, I spoke about marriage and children. Ah yes, the children. The vocation to participate in God's creative love for them extends to the "raising" of these children.

It’s hard enough to provide them with food and the needs of daily life. But our task as parents is greater than this. Each child is a person—a developing and expanding spiritual universe of understanding and love, of creativity, of searching and questioning and hunger. Their hunger is not just for bread, or for education, or for human affection. It is all these things, but—within and beyond all of this—it is a hunger for God.

How can my wife and I give them God?

The awareness that we are called to be instruments through which our children discover and experience the love of God as Father is truly overwhelming. Nevertheless, we see in the gospel that Jesus is always asking His disciples to do the impossible. After He finishes preaching to five thousand people, He tells His disciples to give them the food they need to eat for their journey home. "Feed these five thousand people!"

What do they have to give? They have seven loaves and a few fish. They have something, but it is clearly not enough.

We too have something: our own poor, selfish, struggling humanity. But there is something else we have, and—like the disciples—we keep forgetting it! We have Jesus!

My wife and I have Him in a particular way, precisely in the way that our children need to come to know Him, through the grace of the sacrament of marriage. Our marriage is the foundation for a communion of persons, and Jesus is at the center of that communion, so that we and the children can grow in the ways of self-giving love.

We need to ask for faith to recognize that He is with us as husband and wife, as father and mother, as two fragile, limited people, so that He can take us, and (yes, like the loaves) break us, and give Himself through us to our children and to everyone He entrusts to us.
Lord Jesus, give us faith to recognize Your presence in our lives every day, and increase our confidence that with You, nothing is impossible. In Your hands, may our poor humanity be transformed into the gift of Your love for each other and for our children.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

The Most Important "Work" of Marriage

Lately there has been a lot of talk about marriage in the blog world (especially among Catholic Christians). Young couples enter into Christian marriage, perhaps, with starry eyes and optimism and even a bit of forgivable "overconfidence." We've been there, and felt that way. We know that time will teach them the hard work of married life, of unity and fidelity, of the experience of discord (even the Pope recently mentioned how "throwing plates around" is a normal experience of spousal argument).

But, above all, time (and their openness in faith and love) will allow them to experience the inexhaustible power of the grace of the Holy Spirit and the presence of Jesus in the sacrament of marriage. The hope, of course, is that Christian newlyweds are prepared in such a way that they truly believe in this grace from the beginning. Nevertheless, the whole of married life is an ever deeper verification of the reality of the grace of marriage and it's superabundant adequacy to endure and to grow through a vast array of unimaginable circumstances.

All of this is very true. Older married couples can list circumstances of good times and bad, sickness and health, a million awkward things about sharing life right down to who hogs the blankets every night. We can talk about the importance of nurturing our unity through these circumstances and through communication and trust and forgiveness.

All of this is very true.

But there is something lacking in this conversation. Maybe we take it for granted because it's so obvious. Or perhaps because it's so unique, and so seemingly "beyond us" when we think about ourselves as married couples that it gets left out when we theorize about marriage.

Eileen and I would say after almost 18 years -- and through many trials involving work, money, my disability, illness, and such -- that the experience of our marriage is marked overwhelmingly by five very precise, very unique circumstances that unite us deeply and personally, in wonder and prayer, in fear and trembling.  

Their names are John Paul, Agnese, Lucia, Teresa, and Josefina.

In the old days this was called the primary end of marriage, articulated in what may seem to be less than soul stirring language as "the procreation and education of offspring" (I've never been keen on the word offspring. It makes me feel like we're bugs or something. How about another word, like children.)

Of course, husband and wife must love each other. But this unity is inseparable from the fruitfulness it engenders; it exists within that fruitfulness. The sacrament of marriage is the fountain of that most basic community of persons, the family. Even if spouses cannot procreate physically for some reason, their unity has an intrinsic fruitfulness of radical constructive hospitality that God will reveal to them (whether it be adoption, foster care, or some other special charism of giving to the larger community).

So marriage is about building up the relationship, the "two-becoming-one-flesh," the friendship, the mutual help, the fidelity. It's a relationship between two people, a husband and a wife. And yet, precisely insofar as it succeeds in really being a genuine spousal unity, it will transcend these two persons, it will "take flesh" in life -- and not only in the agreements about things like leaving the toilet seat up or down -- but above all in other living human beings, which means that if nature is unhindered these will be new human beings, new persons created by God within the radical openness to Him that spousal love entails.

Let me put it simply: marriage is about children. That doesn't mean reducing an interpersonal relationship to a mechanism for "reproduction," for cranking out offspring. It means that married love is radically at the disposal of God's creative action. Married love is procreative; it is God's instrument for engendering and fostering human community. It is interpersonal love, and that is why it includes the possibility of human reason discerning the will of God regarding all the NFP stuff, because married love must always be radically at the disposal of God's creative action, even when a given expression of love is not seeking to result in a child. After all, men and women don't produce babies. Rather, their love creates a space of psychosomatic unity within which God creates new human persons.

Thus marriage is the stuff of families, of children and then of grandchildren, of communities and eventually of peoples who encounter one another. And the sacrament of marriage in Christ builds up God's people, who go out into all the world bringing the gift of his love.

When we speak about married life, let's not forget about family, about our children, or (as the nuptial blessing puts it) our childrens' children. The family is not in competition with the unity between the husband and wife; rather it is the place where that unity is most profoundly expressed and lived.

And children are never abstract. They are the history of the husband and wife loving each other in God. Eileen and I don't just have some anonymous "offspring." We have been given John Paul, Agnese, Lucia, Teresa, and Josefina. Each is loved uniquely by God, is uniquely His image and likeness, and is destined to live and love and share in His glory.

As Eileen and I journey together toward the Lord, our children remain the great, astonishing, incalculable surprises, the mysteries, the primary expressions and concrete engagement of our unity, and our most profound "common interest." In front of each of them, we remain in awe of God, and of each other.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

John Paul II's Death and His Continued Presence in Our Lives

Today is the nine year anniversary of the entrance into eternal glory of Blessed John Paul II. He died on the vigil of Divine Mercy Sunday, a few minutes after the Mass for the feast day was celebrated at his hospital bedside.

How well I remember that vigil, and the days leading up to it. The last lesson he gave us was showing us how to die. We wept, and yet we also knew that although something great had come to an end, another greater and more wonderful thing was just beginning. John Paul II, having entered fully into the heart of Jesus, took up a new place as a powerful advocate for us in the communion of saints.

He seems more accessible, more close personally since his death, more aware of me and Eileen and the lasting value of the blessing he gave us on our visit to Rome in 1996 and the few brief words we shared. His blessing of our marriage on that day seems to open up into an assurance that in God's Kingdom he has a great solicitude for us and our family. I rely on his powerful intercession.

Later this month, on Divine Mercy Sunday, he will be officially canonized as a saint of the universal Church. What a blessing it was to grow to maturity in his days, to see him and hear his words, to witness his struggles, to find again and again in every kind of circumstance his passionate love for Christ.

The central grace of my life was 25 years of learning to follow Jesus through the teaching and witness and courage of this man. Thank you, Lord, for your mercy, for giving us this living icon of your Son.

Blessed John Paul II, pray for us!