Healing

My fingers nervously moved over the contours of the Tree of Life emblem emblazoned on my little green journal as I sat expectantly behind three other people in the wooden pews. I looked down at my journal. The pages contained deep reflections from a weekend of interior examinations, including preparation for the confession I would soon make. Person number three exited the confessional. I slid down the pew. Two more before me. I looked around the sanctuary at the serene and colorful icons stretching floor to ceiling behind the altar in St. Mark's Church. In nearby pews many others, like me, were waiting for a priest to hear their confessions. There was pensiveness, an odd sense of excitement knowing what was to come. Another confession finished. I scooted closer. One person in front of me. The first inklings of vigil Mass were showing -- a musician setting down sheets on the grand piano, a sacristan filling vessels with holy water, a family kneeling reverently with heads bowed as they prayed together. Finally, the last confessee before me entered. I was close to that releasing of tension and sweet absolution. No matter how many times I return, the words are still tonic for my weary soul:

God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

When I finally made it into the small room with a priest, my confession wasn't groundbreaking. I had brought many of the sins to this place before. Yet something felt different this day. The counsel from the priest was excellent, but that wasn't all. I had been on retreat all weekend with the staff of the John Paul II Healing Center from Tallahassee, Florida. As I exited and said my penance, I felt not only restored to good grace and given hope to become a better version of myself, but this confession felt like the start of a new and definitive direction for my life.

I never realized how much healing I needed until this retreat in Seattle at the end of August. My need for healing doesn't stem from the malicious intent of others. No one is chiefly responsible. I just live with disappointment, hurt, and sin in my heart and around me. So do you. We all do. We are a product of the beautiful but fallen world we occupy.

But it's going to be OK. Jesus is the divine physician, and he will heal us if we invite him to work within. In all the prayer, intellectual arguments, experiences, and lectures of my lifetime, I never had invited Jesus to begin His healing work in me. That changed at this retreat for the Healing of the Whole Person. My healing isn't complete, but it has begun.

I dug into my past, looking at relationships with family and friends, dug into my experiences from childhood and adolescence, dug into my worldview and notions of morality, dug into my mind and heart to find the barriers to abundant life. Jesus was calling me to more.

The integration of my psychological, spiritual, emotional, physical, sexual being is endless in this life, but a greater awareness of what has formed and continues to form me is vital to understanding where and why I struggle. I am imperfect. I sin and sin again, against myself, against others, and against the Lord. I turn inwardly, selfishly. It's not a matter of being bad or good. I am not evil. I am not good. But my actions have moral implications that need constant fine tuning. Confession helps, and a retreat focusing on healing helps further.

It's difficult to convey the power of this healing process because I can't very well talk about my personal wounds in such a public forum, but if you, like me, have ever longed for a deeper understanding and relationship with the Living Lord, the healing that occurred was a mode of making that relationship possible.

The JPII Healing Center offers retreats around the country for marriage, sexuality, seminarians, desire, and other ways of presenting the Great Physician. Can you attend one this year? See for yourself what brought me such deep joy: https://jpiihealingcenter.org/index.php/events.

Direction

The past many weeks brought opportunity for rest, reflection, dreaming, planning, and reconnection. I have not commented on discernment or what I'm doing, so I figured a post was due about where life is headed.

I plan to work for another year at Our Lady of the Valley in Caldwell before returning to seminary to continue formation toward the priesthood. I don't presume to be accepted back into the program, but I have kept in consistent touch with Fr. Caleb Vogel and Fr. Jerry Funke, the Vocations Directors, and with Bishop Peter Christensen, the shepherd of the Diocese of Boise, all of whom encouraged me to re-enter seminary when I am ready. I cannot put words to what held me back from continuing after my two years at Mount Angel, but I felt uneasy enough to break from the program. Peace is important, especially in praying about a commitment that encompasses all aspects of my identity and life, but I am realizing there will always be an unsatisfied longing within. Even if I become a fulfilled priest, even if I become a happy and healthy husband and father, even if I find satisfaction as a single person, my inmost yearning is not for any one of these primary vocations but for holiness, wholeness, and Heaven. Peace comes in the striving, not in the destination of our earthly pilgrimage.

This year I have been fortunate to indulge many interests, especially soccer, cooking, family, blogging, music, sports, and reading. Each piques my discernment meter on occasion -- how I could coach soccer and impact young lives through sports; how I could cook food to nourish people's bodies and souls; how I flirt with having my own wife and children as I play with my nieces and nephews; how I can use blogging as a vehicle for communication and community; how I see music inspire and lead people; how I can employ sports as an agent of gathering and agreement in an increasingly partisan and broken society; how reading a great book can change my outlook and thinking. Yet these thoughts are usually fleeting. They will remain interests, fantasies perhaps, but not the source of my strength and ultimate end.

My ultimate end is to love, to use my vocation to point myself and others to the only Love that satisfies. In the loneliness of having to make a decision, in the joy of having been gifted and chosen for a purpose, in the sharing of life with my beautiful family, I am grateful for this time of introspection and conversion. God is teaching me how to be an agent of change with my limitations and fears. I can love more; I can love better; I can love like Jesus.

If I follow the plan to return as a seminarian for the Diocese of Boise in fall of 2016, I pray that you walk alongside me because I need friends, mentors, challengers, truth-speakers, life-givers, role models, and advocates. I need you to be Christ for me because the meaning of our existence is found in the relationships we build both among each other and with the creator we hold in common.

I will try to post more often, but I won't promise much for now. Life gets busy, and blogging can take a backseat. Thanks for continuing to ask where we are headed, where I am headed, and showing you care with your prayers and encouragement. Incepto ne desistam! May I not shrink from my purpose!

A sunrise at Ascension Monastery in Jerome, Idaho, site of the recent BenedicTEEN Retreat I attended with four teens from Our Lady of the Valley.

The desert has a picturesque hue at dawn.

The road can be long but worth the journey.

God's fidelity is evident in every sunrise.

Lavender is in bloom at Ascension Monastery.

Delusion

For the third or fourth time I am trying to slog through The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. I don't enjoy it. His arguments go against what I most deeply believe. I get irritated by his snippiness and arrogance. I get sleepy from boredom. Why, then, am I reading it?

Most simply, I want to meet the challenge--the challenge of religious skeptics, of avowed atheists, of searching teens, of many close to me. I think Christ and the Church meet that challenge not just for me but for many. Where Dawkins and his cronies fail, the risen Lord fills the void. I could go into many of the objections I spot as Dawkins makes his case, but I would rather present a hopeful alternative to the negative outlook he presents.

From the start, Dawkins stakes his turf as truth being only that which is based on evidence--observable, measurable data that is repeatedly found to be true, verified by many individuals, and written into fact. Fair enough. He's a scientist (of sorts), so that's how his mind works.

He cites a study on prayer to see if patients with serious illnesses experience any difference based on a Christian community a few states away praying for them. No surprise: There are no discernible differences between patients receiving prayers, those not receiving prayers, and the control group.

He cites the historical and literal inaccuracies from Scripture, particularly surrounding the life of Jesus, even going so far as to say Jesus may not have existed as an historical person.

He cites religion as the major cause of wars and violence.

He looks at weaknesses in philosophical proofs for the existence of God, trying to address the metaphysical foundation of religion that gives a logical spine for believing in a deity.

He addresses the religious experiences so many people cite as evidence for their belief by saying psychological and physiological explanations make more sense than an encounter with a God who much of the world sees as absent.

Dawkins is convincing. His arguments, while not philosophically satisfying, are witty, original, and researched (though I will wait to answer some of his specific arguments in a future post since doing so here will distract from my purpose in writing). I see why he has a legion of people that subscribe to what he is saying, even if they wouldn't identify themselves as his followers. New atheism aims at the human weakness toward absolute control and knowledge. We insatiably crave to know our world and have it mold to our expectations.

However, as convincing as Dawkins can be, he and his contemporaries will not eradicate religion. They will not have lasting disciples. They may win sympathizers in debate, but they won't win the hearts of men and women, which is what spurs life change and religious conversion (or as is the aim of new atheists, religious exodus).

Here's why: The God Delusion is an argument, not a movement; an intellectual game, not a call to purpose; a negation, not an arrow aimed at truth. Dawkins isn't for something; he's only against God and religion. He spends this book and multiple others trying to explain away something he says doesn't exist. There's an idiocy in the logic. Why spend so many pages talking about the unreal? If it's unreal, why don't we just see it like you do? Why is the vast majority of the world convinced there is something beyond this universe? If we're all logical human beings with the capacity for intellectual curiosity to stir our religious understanding, why doesn't everyone just look at the facts you present and agree? If you're right, why are there so many alternatives? If the physical world is all we have, why isn't The God Delusion sufficient?

Each person wants her or his life to have meaning, and negating someone else's meaning does not constitute a purpose in life. What gets each of us out of bed in the morning? Chances are high it's not the demise of others. Even the most evil side of people is in pursuit of something to satisfy the longing for meaning in life. Why do people steal? To provide for themselves or achieve monetary convenience. Why do people lie? To protect themselves, their reputation, or others. Why do people kill? To protect, to uphold a belief, to fix a situation. We have an expectation of how the world should be, and we try to make ourselves and our world meet that expectation. That expectation is our reality, and our reality builds our meaning. Humans beings share a basic need for meaning. That's why the best arguments in the world aren't going to win over the general public. That's why the new atheists, powerful as their logic can be, do not have a satisfying answer to life's deepest mysteries. They aren't conceiving meaning but are tearing it asunder.

New atheist Christopher Hitchens spent years of his life not in discovery but in researching and writing an entire book seeking to undermine and humiliate Mother Teresa and the work accomplished by her order, the Sisters of Charity. He gave his book a title that illustrates the snarky pride (and darkly secular humor) of new atheists: The Missionary Position. Why would someone want to follow such a deeply negative person? Aren't there better ways to use our limited time and abilities?

Humans are complex, beautiful, and more than the body in which we reside. If evolution explains everything we see and experience, there is no room for love, for emotions, for teenage angst, for beauty, for morality, for faith. There is only survival. Why would we have developed the baffling human nature that gives love and takes it if all we were interested in doing was instinctual? We would have no sense of right and wrong if all we cared about was staying alive. If evolution explains us completely, shouldn't there be more Spocks lacking emotion and less tears? There's no logic to our current state. There's no explanation for why a Hallmark commercial makes my sister-in-law cry or why a newborn brings inexpressible joy to parents even though it means a complete life reorientation and sleep deprivation. There's no repeatable science experiment to figure out why we are attracted to some and not others (either romantically, in friendship, or otherwise).

Dawkins and the new atheists are almost exclusively white, well-educated, wealthy males. They see a universe they claim is magnificent and vast, but their own worldviews cloud the intellectual rigor to go beyond what they can take into their senses. Their curiosity is stifled by the scientific method. Our existence is not so bland and restricted.

We are free. We are magnificent. We are explorers. We have reason to believe in something because the physical world before us has a direction that fits into an evolutionary scheme without denying the need for a starting and ending point that cannot be explained away. If evolution is real (and I think it is), what set the process in motion? Who set the process in motion? And why did it happen? What's the point of it all?

The point is this: We are meant to be curious. We are meant to ask questions and not stop seeking answers. The answers are not all-encompassing, just satiating. The beginning and end, the alpha and omega are endlessly debated, but the possibility for God is real, alive, and well.

Dig deep. Dig wide. Dig always. Be a part of something greater than yourself or your mind or your scars, physical and emotional. Our capacity to explore is only exceeded by our capacity to love, and I am grateful for both as a human being. Even if I struggle to slog through The God Delusion, I don't get the sense that I am deluded. Not everything adds up as cleanly as Dawkins would like. Life isn't a thesis. It's an experience. I would rather follow something I know within the recesses of my heart, mind, and soul than spend my life denying what is and has been fundamental to human existence for as long as we know.

Bring on the arguments. I'll stick with faith, love, and hope.

Laughter

A Basque priest arrived at St. John's Cathedral this year. He heard on the radio in his native area that there were no remaining Basque priests serving the Catholic people of the Northwest. What did he do in response? He moved to Boise. He is a true missionary.

Today, Fr. Antonio heard my confession, and he reminded me of an important lesson. My sin was related to pride and taking too personally and seriously the reputation I have with others. His counsel? Laugh at yourself. Don't take yourself or life too seriously. Live in a coherent, faithful way, and do not worry what others think.

I like to think I am fairly secure in my identity, that I can take the criticism, that I don't care much for perceptions. Mostly, I am confident, but I am no finished product. Insecurities persist. Criticism can sting. Growth requires humility.

Laughter helps the process. When mistakes and insecurities become points of shoulder shrugging instead of deep sighing, God's mercy can be welcomed into the space created by the release of tension. I need to laugh more. I need to be more joyful. I needed the reminder from a priest who traveled from Europe to share a snippet of hope in the confessional. Thank you, Fr. Antonio.

My brothers Luke and Michael ran with me in the "toughest race in the Northwest" on Saturday. Robin Creek is 13.1 miles, 2000 feet in elevation climb, and then a straight drop after the peak. Our knees survived, and each of us gratefully completed the brutal course.

Easter

Empty.
Empty.
Empty.
No one is here.
The sky is dark.
The burial cloths gone.
The rock is moved.
The tomb is opened.

Empty.
Empty.
Empty.
No one is here.
The Lord is alive.
The Lord is alive?
The Lord is alive!
Jesus is risen!
Christ has returned!
Hope burns eternal!
Death has no sting!

Where is the Lord? Where is he now?
He walks among us. His wounds to show.
Resurrected, triumphant, conquering, loving.
He walks among us, for us to know.

To know the curtain is shattered.
The Holy of Holies incarnate, made man.
To know God dwells among us.
Just look at his feet, and his side, and his hands.

For me. For you. For us. For all.
The Passion of Jesus made up for our fall.
Our sins forgiven, our scars made clean.
He came not to condemn, but to intervene.

He’s alive. The women see, the apostles too.
Because our hearts he shall always pursue.
The good news is shouted, proclaimed, declared.
By all who not long ago were just scared.

Along the road to Emmaus, he appears again.
Breaking the word open with friends.
He waits for the invite to come inside.
In bread he appears and will always abide.

To the doubting, he puts the hand in his flesh.
The wounds are still there, the scarring is fresh.
Blessed are those who without sight still believe.
That Christ has risen anew, that Him we receive.

That like an egg he embodies new life.
That like a flower our hope can now bloom.
That at Easter each year we rejoice
That Jesus has risen from the tomb.

New life we celebrate. A genesis amended.
His grace sufficient. His body and soul ascended.
This is our faith, the faith of the Church.
This is the longing for which our hearts search.

Join in the chorus. Sing praise to the Lord.
For he is our King. Our hope is restored!

Coming

Goodness

...and the angels are silent.

Feet

I volunteered today at the Corpus Christi House in Boise at a foot washing clinic. I was not the washer (that was left to podiatrists and nurses). My friend Frankie and I prepared tubs for foot soaking and removed them after use. Over 50 people--almost all of whom were homeless or living in poverty--received treatment ranging from cleaning, clipping, filing, and massaging. Each person seemed genuinely grateful.

I was grateful, too, for the experience and the reminder that Jesus does whatever it takes to meet us, welcome us, involve us, challenge us, love us. He enters into the dirty depths of our fallenness individually and collectively. He showers us with streams of mercy, water, and blood. He feeds us His Body and Blood in the Holy Eucharist. He gives us strength for every journey.

And tonight? Tonight he washes our feet.

Eyes

I went to a teen's dance recital this evening. Many groups performed, quite a few individuals danced solo, and the pride and appreciation of parents and friends was apparent. The ladies worked diligently at their craft and showed tremendous growth and skill this night.

Still, something else stuck with me. To most, it was a passing moment that evoked a gentle smile or a mild laugh. Between dance routines, a slight, blond-haired boy of three or four came to the gym floor. The Vallivue High School band was playing intermittent music to pass the break, and the boy used the music to mimic the moves he had seen many of the young women execute minutes earlier. He twirled and hopped and added his own take. As he did all this, the crowd murmured about his cuteness, and with dozens of eyes on him, the boy took little notice. He danced away. The boy's eyes were fixed on only one person: His father.

In all his contortions and twists, a smile continued on the blond-haired boy's tender face, and a constant glance into the bleachers was met with consistent approval from his daddy's gaze. He did not care about the audience's approval or the snippet of fame he was experiencing; he only wanted his father's love.

We should all be set on the gaze of our Father. Where are our eyes fixed as we dance?

Wheels

One of my prayers as I've been contemplating a new car is that I would be a good steward with what I have been given. I want to use my resources well without over-indulging. This line of thinking led me to used vehicles mostly. A 2003 Honda Civic with only 64,000 miles. A 2010 VW Jetta TDI with diesel but a bad maintenance record. Some Ford Fusions and Edges that didn't quite meet my hopes for gas mileage.

I never imagined I would be talked into a new car. In fact, when I asked my uncle (my family's resident car expert) for advice in my search, the one thing he told me was to steer away from buying new.

I did it anyway.

I bought a 2015 Toyota Prius. The deal was this: $5,750 off, 0% interest, 60-month payment plan, two years of regular maintenance (oil changes, tire rotation, fluid levels, general checkup), and a warranty that covers bigger mishaps for seven years. I hope to be driving this baby for the foreseeable future, and getting 50 or more miles to the gallon while I do it.

Mileage

After a road trip to Mount Angel and Seattle, I returned to Boise tonight carried home safely by my vehicle of almost 10 years.

My 2000 Toyota Camry took me through college, into youth ministry, away to seminary, and back to living in Boise. I wonder how many times I have turned the key in the ignition this decade to the reliable sound of the engine firing and the dashboard illuminating. I know well the quirks of the vehicle--the broken seal on the driver's side, the key scratch all along the passenger side, the cassette player, the two tiny dents (but not cracks) in the windshield, the trunk light being deactivated so the battery doesn't drain--and I love my Camry despite the flaws.

But the time to sell and upgrade is coming soon. It will be farewell to a fine vessel for many journeys. I hope some nervous teenager being handed keys for the first time might have use for my old machine so the adventures may continue.

For now, I'm on the hunt for new wheels. Anyone have suggestions?

Celebration

A great reminder as we begin Holy Week this Palm Sunday. What are we remembering and celebrating?

Passion

I'm going to see this tonight...

Saints

As I visit my former parish at St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, I see little saints serving the people and God in their small but significant ways.

The three Missionary of the Holy Spirit priests concelebrate Daily Mass, sharing the duties of the liturgy with one carefully preparing the altar for the main celebrant to approach and begin the Eucharistic prayers. The tender touch of the priest to the corporals, the chalices, and the hosts is noticeable. With one hand over heart, he hands the ciborium to his brother priest.

The elderly gentleman with keys to the church w comes nightly to repose the Blessed Sacrament in the Adoration Chapel. Most never see the man (his name is Daniel) because of the hours he keeps, but he makes this weekday practice of Adoration possible for the parish.

The small group of Filipino women that pray daily in the Mass and often in the chapel afterward to offer the Divine Mercy Chaplet and Rosary. They will feed you, take care of you, and give endless hospitality.

The maintenance man who meticulously cleans toilets, dusts the blinds, vacuums the floors, straightens the pews. He ever so quietly and gently reads theology and spiritual books, lives simply, and loves the community deeply in his work of service.

The jovial volunteer who cleans the pantry. The dishes are straight; the pots and pans are in place. On her weekends, she goes to food festivals and feels excitement over large drawers that would further organize the kitchen facility. Her gift to the community comes in little things. All their gifts to the community come in little things.

Saints, living among us, serving among us, praying among us, inspiring us. Who are the saints in view for you today?

Change

Change requires time and patience. Culture change requires these qualities even more. In envisioning the ideal church and trying to lead people to encounter God, the culture of our parishes will inevitably need tinkering. People usually do not like tinkering. We like comfort. We like our expectations to be met. We like to be content, but contentedness can lead to stagnation.

Jesus loved each person individually, authentically, and completely, but he also challenged each person to persevere in conversion and growth. "Go, and sin no more." The command requires movement on our part, and it requires an ongoing process of growth.

Let's begin a movement. Let's forge ahead on behalf of Christ. Let's change the church. Let's transform the culture. Let's be the Body. Let's know, love, and serve. Let's go.

Mouthful

Peach fritter. Voodoo Donuts.

New

My friend Frankie and I were talking about the Eucharist, particularly about receiving the Eucharist--who ought to receive and who ought to abstain. For a newcomer to Mass, a non-practicing Catholic, or a fellow Christian from another denomination, approaching the Eucharist is challenging because we ask those not in full communion with the Church to receive a blessing instead of the Body and Blood. Catholics are also encouraged to be in a state of grace (with no mortal sin) before receiving the Body and Blood.

This is a sign of respect foremost. To receive Jesus Christ in his body, blood, soul, and divinity under the disguise of bread and wine we ought to be fully aware of the gift and love present in the sacrament--the meal, the man, and the mystery. While this is true, even the most knowledgeable and devout Catholic can spend a lifetime pondering the Eucharist. And every one of us is a sinner in need of redemption.

Yet Christ always approached sinners. Christ embraced them in their current state. He loved them. We can strive to do the same.

Jesus wants us at the Eucharistic feast, but he also wants us on the path of conversion. Learning about the faith before embracing it through communion, returning regularly to the Sacrament of Reconciliation in acknowledgement of our brokenness--these are the ways we know the world is both redeemed and being redeemed, that Christ has arrived and will return, that the Kingdom is here and now and still to come.

We live imperfectly. During Holy Week, we once again embrace the Passion of our Lord. We take up the cross. We love. We follow. We are made new.

Personality

I'm a fan of the Myers-Briggs Inventory. Here's something fun involving the MBTI leading up to Holy Week: Which saint has your personality type and how do they celebrate Holy Week because of it? If it's too small to read, click here.

Paschal

I'm back at Mount Angel Seminary for a visit this week. In a fortuitous twist, I scheduled my visit when the funeral Mass and celebration of life for Father Paschal Cheline is taking place. Fr. Paschal died last week a joyful man, a holy Benedictine monk, a lover of fine art and music and novels, a teacher to the end, and a soul who impacted thousands of men being formed for the priesthood.

My friend from the seminary Dean Marshall explains some of the gifts Fr. Paschal shared in this memorial piece. My favorite memory is of hearing Fr. Paschal joyfully share Liturgical Tidbits on Tuesdays with the seminarians. He took about five minutes to teach briefly on Mass and prayer etiquette and procedure. The commentary was always lively and applicable. The lesson that most stuck with me is Fr. Paschal's take on the proper pronunciation of "impious." The word appears a couple times in the breviary prayers. Most would say it the traditional American way: imm-PIE-us. Fr. Paschal exhorted us to speak otherwise. "Never say imm-PIE-us again! It's IMM-pee-us!"

Now whenever the word comes up in the psalms, I have a built-in memory of Fr. Paschal. I always crack a smile (not a hard or uncommon thing for me to do). A man who shared small lessons with great joy--that's Fr. Paschal to me. May his rest be eternal and as joyful as his earthly life.

Belief

be·lief 
/bəˈlēf/  noun

1. an acceptance that a statement is true or that something exists

2. trust, faith, or confidence in someone or something

I believe in the experiences I have had of God's active presence in my life.

I believe in the experiences people I know have described to me of God's active presence in their lives.

I believe in the Church that began the university system, invented the scientific method, cared for the sick and destitute, has survived for two millennia, and that feeds more people, clothes more people, shelters more people, and educates more people every day than any other organization in the world could dream of doing.

I believe in the truth, goodness, and beauty shown by the lives of the saints, in all their variety and vibrancy.

I believe in hope because the alternative leaves me no reason to live.

I believe in the material world, in the discovery and mystery of its vastness and intricateness, in the evidence it yields that points to an underlying engine spurring its movement and evolution, an engine I and millions of others call God.

I believe in the testimony given by martyrs of the faith from the earliest days of Christianity to the current millennium when more people have been killed for their belief in Jesus Christ than in any century before.

I believe in the inspiration of the Holy Spirit to prompt the writers of the Bible and especially the Gospels to record what God intended us to know of salvation history because it is His-story.

I believe Jesus when He says the bread and wine are His true Body and Blood because he did not qualify the statement, because He appeared in the breaking of the Bread on the road to Emmaus, because He wanted to be with us always, and because Jesus Christ is God incarnate.

I believe in the Catholic Church not because of its great people but because of its unshakeable foundation in Christ who promised us the gates of hell would not prevail but that Love would triumph.

I believe in the end of the story because the Kingdom of God has come and is coming.

I believe.

What do you believe?