Joan, teach me how to fight!  Francis, teach me how to love!  Thomas, teach me how to think! Thérèse, teach me how to pray!  John, teach me how to risk!  Dominic, teach me how to preach!  Patrick, teach me how to lead!  Teresa, teach me how to feel!  Andre, teach me how to serve!  Catherine, teach me how to speak!  Edward, teach me how to rule!  Lucy, teach me how to see!  Ignatius, teach me how to know!  Benedict, teach me how to hear!  Augustine, teach me how to write!  Peter, teach me how to fail!  Paul, teach me how to change!  Solanus, teach me how to heal!  Hildegard, teach me how to sing!  James, teach me how to walk!  Martha, teach me how to cook!  Nicholas, teach me how to give!  Vitus, teach me how to dance!  Sebastian, teach me how to win!  Carlos, teach me how to play!  Philip, teach me how to laugh!  Joseph, teach me how to dream!  Mary, teach me how to trust!  Jesus, teach me how to live! 

Ave Crux, Spes Unica.

The pop psychology gurus of today have conditioned us to use phrases like “live in the moment” and “the power of now,” but such noble spiritual sentiments can easily lead to what is called participation mystique, the raw experience of life where we are immersed in the flow of reality to the point of lacking any consciousness of our experience and thus any ability to exercise our capacity to think and choose.  Such a way of life is natural for animals and children, but for adults it is a cause of great anxiety, as, indeed, the person who only “lives in the moment” is always on the verge of losing what is precious to them.  What is needed is a strategy to extend our experiences into the future.  This is precisely why the Word became flesh (Jn 1:14), to be the trustworthy intervention and firm boundary marker (Jn 19:30) in the drama of it all, a durable container to keep our experiences going all the way into eternal life and beyond.  Let’s therefore get into the habit of inviting the Word into the present moment so that we don’t just participate in life, but so that we might have life and be at peace (Jn 10:10).  Ave Crux, Spes Unica.

My novice master once told me, “The moment you think you’ve got it figured out is the moment you get in trouble.”  This simple and unassuming man, who would have rather been immersed in parish life instead of being thrust into the spotlight atop the holy mountain of our novitiate, spoke directly to my soul.  The grasping at images and ideas of myself, the desperate attempt to fulfill expectations that others had laid upon me, and the need to control my life had, in fact, gotten me into trouble!  His words were an invitation to freedom, surrender, and deep trust in the living God.  The next time, therefore, we think we’ve “got it right,” let’s catch the accompanying dopamine hit which keeps us at the surface and obscures the deeper reality.  We shall gradually be released from the safe, yet stuffy and fearful, container of the self and be introduced to some mysterious horizon with new possibilities and hope.  In this way, our psychological coffin will finally be buried and we will be at peace.  Ave Crux, Spes Unica.

“To have without holding” by Marge Piercy

“Hello, welcome to McDonald’s, can I take your order?”  Feed the hungry.  “Yes, we offer free refills.  Do you want ice?”  Give drink to the thirsty.  “This one only comes in a small, would you like to see the rest of our sweaters?”  Clothe the naked.  “Checkout is at noon, there is a free continental breakfast in the morning, and the pool is open till midnight.  Enjoy your stay!”  Give shelter to the traveler.  “Hey man, you seem really upset, would you mind if I sat with you to talk things through for a bit?”  Visit the sick.  “Grandma!  Can we stop by to see you on our way home from school today?”  Visit the imprisoned.  “I forgive you and agree that it’s time to move on.”  Bury the dead.  In a society of famous people, super heroes, celebrities and experts, it can be easy to lose sight of our unique vocation in life.  The good news is that it is right here, exactly where our feet are, and all we need to do is extend our hands in service to others and allow our hearts to be opened.  We shall become the quiet saints of tomorrow. 

Ave Crux, Spes Unica.

One of my sisters memorized a poem when we were very young, and the final stanza has remained with me into my adulthood: “The woods are lovely, dark and deep, / But I have promises to keep, / And miles to go before I sleep, / And miles to go before I sleep.”  Truly – out of the mouths of babes (Ps 8:2) – this child mystic revealed my deepest identity to myself.  Between naptime and snacktime, playtime and bedtime, she instilled in me, as she walked around the house reciting this poem, a sense of wonder and an attraction to mystery.  How tragic it is to get stuck along the way, to lose the forest for the trees, forgetting the boundlessness of life and the uniqueness of our personal calling.  As for me, I will just keep taking it one step at a time, one foot in front of another, awkwardly, but sincerely, trying to walk with the Lord, into a future full of uncertainty and hope.  Lord, help me to be a prophet like my big sis and cheerfully announce the plain truth to others, that there is no life without risk. 

Ave Crux, Spes Unica.

“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost