The word identity is from a root word meaning “the same.”  When we identify with something, we experience that thing as ourselves.  As psychologically unformed infants and toddlers, we identify with everything, often crying when objects are taken from us, as if we are losing part of ourselves, or becoming upset when somebody else gets hurt, as if it were us.  As we enter adolescence and begin to identify with other people romantically, the attachment can be so strong that we totally lose ourselves and become disillusioned with life.  Even as more capable adults, we can feel stuck when we identify too much with one thing, or we can find ourselves in an endless cycle of career changes, geographic moves or new relationships, hoping to figure ourselves out.  Let’s make the decision today to identify with Jesus, who, especially crucified, cannot but resist attachment (Jn 20:17) and lovingly redirect us to our heavenly father.  In doing so we will experience his same resurrection (2 Tim 2:11) and share the same Christ life with him (Gal 2:20). Now that’s an identity that lasts!  Ave Crux, Spes Unica.

The word devil (διάβολος) literally means “to throw in front of.”  It refers to the phenomenon of anomalies in our spiritual and moral experiences where, out of nowhere, we encounter unexpected obstacles that challenge our integrity: a recovering alcoholic catches a whiff of beer as she walks past a local bar, the father of a family that struggles economically receives too much change back from a cashier, a teenager gets a text message with a screenshot of an upcoming exam.  While it is indeed tragic that we take the bait and stumble in such situations, the good news is that we are the ones taking the bait, and we can choose more life-giving options as our human journeys unfold.  Let’s therefore make up our minds to be more intentional about how we operate.  Let’s keep our gaze fixed upon the truth.  Let’s get into the habit of “throwing ourselves in front of” our heavenly father (Mt 26:39).  Let’s leave no space for the devil to prowl (1 Pet 5:8).  Ave Crux, Spes Unica.

The word Catholic literally means “according to the whole” (κατ’ὅλον) and, as such, offers an exciting vision of the human experience.  Indeed, we do not have to be enslaved to dualistic mental categories that keep us constantly pitting one thing against another: this vs. that, me vs. you, us vs. the world.  Rather, we are invited to make the infinite horizon our first move, trusting that all other things will in fact fall into place.  As the Greatest Commandment (Mk 12:29-31) suggests, the health and durability of our many relationships depends upon our willingness to hold that one deep reality, upon which all things actually live and move and have their being (Acts 17:28), as the stable cornerstone (Ps 118:22) that confers life.  Or, as a certain poet of the afterlife once described, our lives are made complete by “the love that moves the sun and the other stars” (Paradiso, 33.145).  Let’s be Catholic today by letting our faith in the one whom our hearts love (Song 3:3) lead to the love of everything else.  Ave Crux, Spes Unica.

Why do we like music so much?  This person is listening to classical music while grading papers in a coffee shop, this person is rocking out to metal on the morning commute, this person is humming a lullaby while squatting next to a crib, and this person is experimenting with the sound of bluegrass in the corner of the basement.  The psychologists will tell us that music is how we exercise our right brains, the anthropologists will say that music takes us back to our mothers’ heartbeats in the womb, the theologians will explain that the rhythms of music put us in touch with divine order, and the linguists will suggest that music awakens our inner muse.  My opinion is that music is simply how most people pray.  A single song allows our senses to be occupied long enough and in a meaningful enough way for our spirits to dip down below the surface and ruminate on the deeper things for a while.  Like Jesus, on the night before he died, let’s get in the habit of winding down after supper with a hymn, then going off to some quiet place to pray (Mt 26:30).  Ave Crux, Spes Unica. 

This time, this place, this day, this hour, this hope, this dream, this friend, this meal, this spark, this flame….This is my body!  This is my blood! Do this in memory of me!  Let’s get back to the basics, of this moment, the here and now, in the concrete circumstances of our lives.  Let’s breathe in the this-ness, let’s meet him in the this-ness, let’s remain in the this-ness.  It’s not that complicated, it’s just this. Ave Crux, Spes Unica.