The Good Stuff

"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things."
- Philippians 4:8

Spending time two weeks ago with my friend Fr. Kauth down in North Carolina was pure grace. It was a blessing to meet the young people and to wander through the mountains with them, to pray a little, laugh a lot, ponder some deep thoughts, and at the end of the day, to slide under the tree branches that set apart the rectory garage (the Bat Cave, as Father affectionately calls it) and just BE with an old friend.

We cooked up a delicious dinner, talked about the paths our lives have taken, and dove into the topics we love: faith and culture, good books, philosophy and theology... the things that have always wheeled us around the Son in a gravitational pull since the seminary days we shared 13 years ago.

Funny how distance or time or the thousand splintered fragments of life's crosses never seemed to throw us off of that orbit. When I wonder how it could be, the only answer that comes is Grace. What else? The years of 1993 to 1996 at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary were like a golden age, and the oddest thing is, we knew it. Sure, there was work and study and much discernment regarding a call that for Fr. Matt continued on to ordination, and for me moved on to the vocation of marriage. But in those three years, the young men who were called together at that precise moment in time had a strong sense of synchronicity, of a Guiding Hand that was shaping our hearts and minds for tasks to numerable to imagine. Even now as I look at my classmates, those ordained and those who left early and discovered another call, the tasks spill out in tiny rivulets like incense from a golden thurible, filling the world with that fragrance of the Eternal that caught and captivated us.

Somehow we few, we happy few were given a glimpse into the Eucharistic Heart of the Hidden God, the God Who loves to play hide and seek with His children. And that Hidden God captured us, heart, mind, and soul.

I remember one morning, on a walk through misty shadows, I made my way to the Chapel for morning prayer. I was part of the "Vampire Club" as we called ourselves (Picture the Dead Poet's Society with cassocks and prayer books. We would find our dark corners of chapel and make our holy hour before the red glow of the sanctuary lamp). I found the now Fr. Matthew walking the same way in that pre-dawn darkness, but as we turned towards St. Martin's, a pale rosy glow in the east caught our eyes. Wordless, we both headed for a massive elm tree and stood beneath it's dark boughs. For what felt like a few minutes, we stood "like sentinels awaiting the dawn" - and it came. Pouring out fire over the green fields, stirring the birds into song and the bells eventually to peel and crack the air with a call to celebrate another Day.

It was contemplation; a deep gaze into the heart of things, a letting go to the pull of Beauty, the irresistible attraction to wonder that to this day takes only a few words to reactivate and rekindle. I praise God for friendships like this, for kindred spirits.

When we turned away from the sunrise to head into chapel, we discovered that nearly an hour went by, and the chapel before us was now bathed in light! Isn't that what Grace so often does? Light up what lies ahead of us as well as what lies behind?


A glass of wine with some friends
Talking to the wee hours of the dawn
Sit back and relax your mind
This must be, this must be, what it's all about
This must be what paradise is like
Baby it's so quiet in here...
- Van Morrison

Speaking with Authority, Ya Know?

We live in strange times, where our words have lost their flavor and our thoughts their sting. We're more like pudding than we are like chili. I like chili. It's hot, meaty, sticks to your ribs. "Whoa! That's good chili!" In this video, a young comedian (though I think he's so much more) gets to the source of the bland banter that surrounds us; we do not speak with authority. Conviction and courage in professing the things we believe in have slithered down into a tasteless, quivering jello. Why? I suppose because things that are true are scary. Like barbed lightning, they shock us out of our sleep and illumine the dark places in our minds and hearts. And who the heck wants that?! Thanks to Fr. Stephen Leake for this link, found on his blog Da Mihi Animas.

A Carpet for the King

There are only two parishes in the country, that I know of, that have this tradition. (If anyone has seen it elsewhere, please drop a comment!)

For the Feast of Corpus Christi here at St. Francis Church in Franklin, NC, a Eucharistic procession will be led over a stretch of"sawdust carpets" - beautiful images from the Sacred Heart to the Holy Family laid out in dyed sawdust onto chalked grids as big as cars. What an amazing process. Families have been plugging away all afternoon and in just under an hour Fr. Matthew will lead us in Evening Prayer, then into the procession. Only the priest with the Blessed Sacrament raised high can walk over these works of art. A carpet for the King Who has become our very food; the Bread of Eternal Life.

(More of these incredible works of art are being uploaded to the "My Mac Web Gallery" link in the links section to the right. Once you're there, click on the North Carolina album)

On Top of the World

I'm in North Carolina this weekend, catching up with an old friend and giving a couple of short reflections to his Confirmation students. We had a great hike today up Whiteside Mountain. There's nothing like talking about the wonders of God's creation while you're sitting in the middle of it! The kids, all roughly high school age, were a great group and brought a peaceful, fun spirit to the hike. The pictures of the day and the beauties we discovered can be found by clicking this here link! - "My Mac Web Gallery."

"To materialists this world is opaque like a curtain; nothing can be seen through it. A mountain is just a mountain, a sunset just a sunset; but to poets, artists, and saints, the world is transparent like a window pane - it tells of something beyond....a mountain tells of the Power of God, the sunset of His Beauty, and the snowflake of His Purity."

- Bishop Fulton J. Sheen

Two New Podcasts are Up!

In my interview with Sr. Josephine Kase, the Assistant Director for the Office of Ecumenical & Interreligious Affairs in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia, we spoke on Sister's work in building up and sustaining dialogue among other Christians and non-Christians within the Archdiocese.


Lisa Hendey is the Founder and Editor of CatholicMom.com, a Catholic web site focusing on the Catholic faith, Catholic parenting and family life, and Catholic cultural topics. We spoke at length on the idea of "E-vangelizing" through blogs, websites, and podcasts! Lots of good resources at www.CatholicMom.com! The podcasts are available here!

Two Roads Diverged in a Wounded World

Rebecca and I are in Hawley, PA, at the moment, staying at a beautiful
bed and breakfast called Settler's Inn. I was asked to speak at a
Knights of Columbus annual breakfast today, and they've been
incredibly gracious! The sun is peeking up and the coffee is hot and,
as usual, I can't sleep when there's a world to explore!

The picture here is a little garden path outside the front doors. Out
back there is a babbling river, and a stretch of ground covered with
tulips and dogwoods. The grass is cool and wet, and life is good! In
the words of my man H.D. Thoreau, "I have heard no bad news."

The talk today is called "Rekindling a Sense of Wonder: How a Catholic
Sees the World." It's a reflection on the sacramental vision we're
called to view the world with as people of faith. I can't stress
enough that this is not a "rose-colored glasses" kind of talk. It's
not like pouring glitter and butterflies on top of pain and sorrow and
saying "It's OK!" A sacramental vision is seeing every sorrow and pain
with eyes wide open, and crying out "It's redeemed!"

True Christians are the most real of realists; why else would we have
the figure of a Crucified Man Who soaked up all the pain of the world
hanging in every one of our churches? (well, most of our churches; but
that's a whole other post!) Catholics are invited to look pain and
sorrow in the eye at every Mass. We know it well, but we also hold
fast to the truth that death has not won.

So these two roads diverge in our wounded world: one despairs, or at
best doesn't care, and one hopes. One covers over the sorrow, with
pills or thrills or business or busyness, and the other road, less
travelled, walks in wonder.

So look, gaze in wonder at the Hand behind all things great and small,
sometimes placing, other times permitting, this or that to occur. See
through, like a kind of x-ray vision, that there is a "destiny that
shapes our ends."

No matter what the materialists tell us, no matter is dead. Everything
matters, every thing speaks to us. The created world is a great book
with the same Word on every page, and the same invitation: will you
walk this way? Down the prim-rose path with thorns, webs and the dank
wetness of mourning?

"Wait and see," whispers a Voice that once too was silenced by
suffering, "I make all things new!"

Fly Away

When I was a kid I wanted to fly. I'm pretty sure I wasn't alone in that desire. I think everybody has a deep-seated longing for the freedom of the birds, the freedom to simply lift off, float, ascend, sail away. From the Greek myth of Icarus to Leonardo's sketches of flying machines, human beings have never been completely content as muddy-shoed bipeds.

TODAY'S QUESTION: What's up with that?

Just imagine this scenario: Someone clearly exhibiting supernatural powers walks up to you and offers you the chance to either pay off your car, your mortgage, and get that new washer/dryer combo in the cool new colors for the basement, or.... you can fly... which would you choose?

When I first saw Superman in 1978, I wanted to fly like crazy. When I saw E.T. and watched Elliot and his alien friend cruise over the heads of those mean grown ups on his dirt-bike, my eyes were like saucers. I dreamt about flying across the moon on my sweet Huffy Pro-Thunder BMX Bandit with the star rims for weeks!

Where am I going with this one? Excellent question!
I'm not sure yet....

I'd like to leave the cap off on this one for awhile; open, like the sky itself. Part of me doesn't want to bring closure to these dreams! Adults are good at putting lids on things, limitations, caps and ceilings. Being realistic and stuff.... Boo hiss! Wonder leaves it wide open.

Remember C.S. Lewis's quote about desire. If there's a longing in the heart, there must be a locus in the world for it (or perhaps Another World yet to come). Jesus ascended into Heaven, Mary was assumed body and soul. Am I that crazy in my own longing for flight? There are stories of saints levitating... sailing up to the rafters of a Church after receiving Communion, or even hearing the names of Jesus and Mary! In the immortal words of my niece Ella.... "What 'da!?"

Why is our culture filled at the moment with so many movies about super heroes or supernatural beings that have amazing powers? We give them the gifts we wish we had. From Neo to the X-Men, Superman to Ironman. The animals don't dream like this! Why are we not satisfied?

QUICK ANSWER: The animals are home here, we are not. In a certain sense, it's our home away from home. More accurately, we're exiled. The stuff of eternity is in us, and earth can't contain it.

Now I'm not saying we should try and fly, or levitate for that matter. St. Teresa of Avila, one of the Church's greatest "superheroines" (aka mystics), once hinted that she would rather have one normal experience to a thousand mystical experiences any day. She thought it too distracting for others I suppose, and the gift of her mystical experiences became a burden when people came for the show rather than for Jesus. That's humility!

And the flight of St. Joseph of Cupertino? Where did that power come from? LOVE. It comes unbidden, it fills us up like helium. Maybe I was trying too hard as a kid. Flight is not something we can master or muster at our own bidding. It's a natural byproduct of Love. Love is the fuel.

"Love lifts us up where we belong, where the eagles fly on a mountain high..."

I'll trail off with a rather lengthy word from the MAN.... Clive Staples:

We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words — to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. That is why we have peopled air and earth and water with gods and goddesses and nymphs and elves — that, though we cannot, yet these projections can, enjoy in themselves that beauty, grace, and power of which Nature is the image. That is why the poets tell us such lovely falsehoods. They talk as if the west wind could really sweep into a human soul; but it can't. They tell us that "beauty born of murmuring sound" will pass into human face; but it won't. Or not yet. For if we take the imagery of Scripture seriously, if we believe that God will one day give us the Morning Star and cause us to put on the splendor of the sun, then we may surmise that both the ancient myths and the modern poetry, so false as history, may be very near the truth as prophecy. At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendors we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumor that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in.

- C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory