Fog

Frozen fog enveloped our hilltop this January as a fine pause between winter rain and gray skies. To commemorate the dry and striking week, the seminary bookstore held a photo contest. Here are the entries in video form.

Walk

I walked the streets of San Francisco today in celebration of LIFE, from conception to natural death.

I walked the streets of San Francisco today in hope that love will be understood in terms of responsibility.

I walked the streets of San Francisco today in sorrow for the women, children, and men afflicted from the mourning and death abortion brings.

I walked the streets of San Francisco today in anticipation of the day our elderly experience the dignified end of life they deserve.

I walked the streets of San Francisco today in solidarity with those denied work and a living wage.

I walked the streets of San Francisco today in joy for the unrepeatable lives brought forth by our sharing in creation.

I walked the streets of San Francisco today in redemption for the amazing grace that found a wretch like me.

I walked the streets of San Francisco today in contemplation of alternative forms of retribution that might eliminate the need for capital punishment.

I walked the streets of San Francisco today in prayer with 50,000 lovers of human dignity.

I walked the streets of San Francisco today in support of a movement that recognizes inherent worth in the human person from the womb to dying breath.

I walked the streets of San Francisco today in trust that God is at work bringing life to our fallen world.

I walked the streets of San Francisco today in tandem with Christ the Redeemer, the Paraclete, our Helper, and the Father, our Foundation.

I walked the streets of San Francisco today.

Tomorrow the work commences.

Will you walk too?

Life

I posted this video on Facebook, but its message is so needed, I thought it might reach a few more people here. Every human life is unrepeatable, precious, and worth defending.

Silence

Cars whir past. The music drones. Kids in the back seat are needling each other and tattling. Roadways and street signs are darkened by the fading dusk light. The way is icy. The supposed navigator in the passenger seat reminds you every few seconds that it looks like you're lost, and maybe you are. But how are you supposed to find clarity in this chaos?

"QUIET!"

Radio off. Children subdued. Navigator wide-eyed without words. Silence. That's how you'll find clarity. A deep breath, space for thought. Now the road seems clearer, the path less daunting. You can find your way again. You will get there.

That's the power of silence.

This first week back at seminary, we dwell in silence, reflecting, resting, examining, discerning, meditating, praying in search of something that can only be discovered when noise ceases to cloud our consciousness. We are on retreat. We are in silence.

I told many people about this silent retreat while on Christmas break, and by the looks and reactions I got, I might as well have said I was going to roll around in the dumpster and sleep on concrete for a week. The reactions were memorable: Silent? Totally silent? For a whole week?! How will you survive? That sounds like the worst thing in the world. I certainly couldn't do that.

In truth, the silence only lasts from Monday afternoon to lunch on Friday, so it's not a week. We just say that because it more neatly sums the situation than describing it as three full days and two partial days of silence. Nonetheless, this is the longest I have ever spent in silence. The silence isn't absolute either. We have conferences, or talks, two or three times a day. We pray the Liturgy of the Hours in community four times a day. Our basketball team even got an allowance to practice each afternoon (and to speak as needed on the court). But we still eat without speaking, which is probably the hardest and most awkward part for me. A hundred guys spread out no more than three to a table, trying to avoid eye contact, just the sound of clanking silverware and chairs moving in or out from the table. Some try to read, others look at the farmlands out the window, most stare at their food. We spend much time walking, praying, or reading in our rooms. I finished an entire book in three days, which is some kind of record for me.

Being in silence certainly isn't fun, but it is beneficial and surprisingly refreshing. With all the noise we have in our world, people are afraid of sitting still enough to allow for introspection (me included). Television, the internet, advertising, radio, computers, music, gaming, vehicles, construction, alarm clocks, cell phones, movies, media -- all of these things can be useful, but they also fill our lives instead of allowing reflection to take place. As part of my reading this week, I opened Matthew Kelly's book The Four Signs of a Dynamic Catholic. In talking about prayer, he estimates only seven percent of Catholics engage in a daily prayer routine. Why is that? Why is it so countercultural for me to be in silence for a couple days? Why is silence so foreign to us?

In part, the answer is all that noise. Without it, I am forced to be so much more aware -- aware of myself, my surroundings, my thoughts. That awareness causes me to be awkward, bumbling over the quiet and not knowing what to do. Do I fill the gap in noise with the voice in my head? Do I try to just sit and be still? How should I respond? And in the midst of my questioning, when I slow down the many rambling thoughts that occupy my consciousness, when I start to pay attention, bits of clarity are to be found. I cease longing for the noise, and the conversation with God can begin.

Matthew Kelly calls it the "Classroom of Silence," and he recommends spending ten minutes, just ten simple minutes, entering into its sacred doors daily. Heck, it would be absolutely life-changing if every person made a conscious decision to enter for one minute each day. There is a reason silence is difficult for us (and an obvious reason, I would say). What is that reason? The evil one. Yes, Satan despises our silence because in it he knows we can encounter the true God. So what better strategy than to subtly shift our ears to the multitude of obnoxious noises we encounter every day? I found this story some time ago about Satan creating the phenomenon of noise, and it still holds true.

Without knowing, we desperately crave silence and stillness. It's instinctive. That's why when we're lost while driving we turn off the radio. That's why football fans quiet down as their team goes on offense. That's why when tests are administered no talking is allowed. That's why in the midst of tragic moments like Newtown, Connecticut when no words suffice, we take moments of silence. In the silence, we find our way. Our lack of silence today indicates we're not taking much time to find our way. It's no wonder there is so much purposelessness in the world. It's no wonder vocations to the religious life are difficult to cultivate. It's no wonder engagement with the Lord has become a challenge in overcoming boredom instead of the deepest joy and fulfillment we can know.

I don't seek silence as much as I should, but I heard many things in the quiet this week, intimate moments of affirmation from the Lord, inspiration to focus on certain aspects of self improvement, a sense of direction and acclimation to the faith life of a seminarian -- all things I would have missed were it not for the stillness I entered.

Will you join me in bringing noiseless personal moments back into our lives? Can you take one minute a day to enter into the classroom of silence? Just one minute. That's all. Start small, and if life allows, grow that amount of time. That's what Matthew Kelly recommends, and if you need some help on what to do in that moment, take a look at his book The Four Signs of a Dynamic Catholic, in which he explains a simple prayer routine anyone can use to begin a conversation with God.

If we are journeyers finding our way, it's time we turned off our devices, quieted the distractions, and peered at the road before us. Before he began his public ministry described in the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus went for 40 days into the desert. He fasted, he prayed, and undoubtedly, he experienced deep silence. He was tempted by the devil constantly, and he emerged victorious. Only after this period of reflection and quiet did Jesus start on his life's work. Even Jesus needed the silence for fuel and direction.

Like Jesus, we can and must put the power of silence to work in our lives. And when we do, we will come to know the ever-present Lord in a new way, a bold way, in the stillness of our souls where He waits to answer our yearning and to let us taste eternity.