With my daughter entering the convent this weekend, I find myself thinking about my time with a religious community in the 1980s as I was discerning a possible vocation to the priesthood and religious life. One day, they brought in a well-known retreat master to give the two dozen or so seminarians a day of recollection.

The first words of the priest to begin the day of recollection really startled me. He bluntly said, “None of you are called to the priesthood.” I looked around the room at all the postulants and said to myself, “Boy, Father Tom (the community’s vocation director) sures knows how to pick ‘em!”

The priest then explained that our vocation is “now,” that we must respond wholeheartedly to the Lord right here, right now by being holy seminarians. In five or six years, God willing, the bishop will lay hands on some of us, and then--and only then--would we truly be called to the priesthood.

As it turned out, More...

Today is the feast day of St. Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153). For many people, unfortunately, St. Bernard is merely a big, lovable breed of working dog. Even those of us with Catholic sensibilities might not know too much about him. Maybe we remember that he was devoted to Our Lady (which saint wasn’t?), and that he is believed to be the author of the prayer commonly known as the Memorare (”Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary . . .”). But even that’s probably pushing it.

It’s a shame we don’t know more about him, because Bernard was no ordinary monk. His singular holiness, his amazing zeal, his prolific spiritual writing, his founding of dozens of monasteries, his decisive, godly impact on ecclesial and world affairs during his incredible life are all a matter of historical record.

My family recently finished as our dinnertime reading The Family That Overtook Christ (Daughers of St. Paul, 1986). It’s the story of St. Bernard’s remarkable family. His father Tescalin has been declared “Venerable” by the Church, and his mother, Alice, his sister Humbeline, and his brothers Guy, Gerard, Andrew, Bartholomew, and Nivard have all been declared “Blessed.” It’s one of the most edifying things I’ve read in a long time. One of the most challenging, too. The holy siblings frequently attributed their exceptional religious formation to their parents, who truly raised a generation of saints. Isn’t that the goal of all of us Catholic parents? More...

This past weekend I was considering my own mortality. You see, yesterday was the 32nd anniversary of the death of my second-oldest brother, Ray. Also, a couple days ago was the birthday of my oldest brother, Bob, who passed away just a few weeks ago.  It really struck me that the 32-year gap between their deaths really isn't that big, even though during that time I've gone from being a teenager to a middle-aged grandfather. How, in practical terms, do I understand God's involvement in the relentless progression of time?

So, I really connected with the familiar readings at Mass yesterday. One was from Ecclesiastes ("For what profit comes to man from all the toil and anxiety of heart with which he has labored under the sun"), Colossians ("seek what is above"), and Luke ("You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you . . .")

There were so many things in these readings that really spoke to me. I guess I can sum up my thoughts this way: Life can really beat us up if we lose track of our heavenly prize (cf. Phil. 3:12-15; Mt. 6:25-34; 1 Cor. 9:24-27).  Without Christ, life is a cross without resurrection. And further, I'd say that part of life that beats us up is time itself. I may not have understood that when Ray died 32 years ago, but I understand it now.

And the answer? Well, yes, the daily crosses in our lives are real. Suffering is a given. Are we going allow our suffering to be an absurdity, a waste, or "vanity"?  Or are we going to truly abandon ourselves to Christ and unite everything in our lives to Him--not just in theory but in the way we live from day to day, even moment to moment?

I think that part of the "renewal of the mind" (Rom. 12:2) that St. Paul is talking about is exactly that--we need to change our way of looking at things that bring us down. Why live as slaves, when Christ came to set us free? When we commit ourselves to daily meditative prayer and frequent recourse to the sacraments, when we seek what is above, then our perspective down here is changed for the better. 

Joy comes with the experience of attaining that which we hope for. As Christians, our daily struggles can be a cause of great joy for us. After all, they bring us a foretaste of the fullness of life for which we're striving.

So join with me this day and every day: Dare to rejoice!      

In today's Gospel, we hear that Jesus is a "greater than Jonah" and also a "greater than Solomon." While these and other "great" Old Testament figures have much to teach us, they don't hold a candle to Christ, the God-man.

After all, Christ is the fulfillment of the various signs and events of the Old Testament. Jonah's three-day sojourn in the whale's belly, as remarkable as that sounds, pales in comparison with the Resurrection of Christ on the third day. And Christ's wisdom, untainted by sin and without limit, infinitely exceeds the created, human wisdom of King Solomon.

In our lives, there are a lot of people that make us ooh and ahh. We talk about being "star-struck" when in the presence of a movie star or sports hero. It's always a big deal to get a photo op with a president or governor or some other VIP.

And every time I've been in the presence of the Holy Father, people suddenly are unable to put together a coherent sentence--overcome not only by his personality and presence, but also by his office and all that it represents.

And when we have an opportunity to meet someone like that, we naturally jump at the opportunity.

But in the tabernacle we have a "Greater than _________." You fill in the blank. Jesus is a "greater than Barack," a "greater than Lebron," a "greater than Hannity." I'm sure we all realize that, but why aren't we spending more time with Jesus--at Mass, in Eucharistic adoration, in moments of prayer throughout the day?

Our assessment of "greatness," to be meaningful, must be reflected in our time and priorities, which in turn reflects a heart given over to Christ.

As you're "lazing on a sunner afternoon" this summer, I'd like to propose an interesting reading list, posted at the Tiber River site. It's a top ten list of autobiographical accounts of spiritual experience. In other words, what do holy, prayerful people themselves have to say about their intimate, personal relationship with Our Lord?

The list is by Fr. Tim Gallagher, O.M.V., an outstanding spirtual director and retreat master. In creating this list, Fr. Tim writes: ""I've tried to choose those which are really at the top, most of them saints or others in process of canonization, and a few others who are well known and whose autobiographical writing is spiritually rich and classic. It has meant leaving out many other wonderful writers in this genre (Hilda Graef, Angela of Foligno, Eugenio Zolli, etc.), but that is the point of the 'top ten' in a category, I suppose."  

To view the top ten list, click here.

For different sort of reading, check out George Weigel's informative take on the most recent TIME cover story on the Pope and the sex scandals. 

Yesterday I reprinted a 2008 commentary on the phenomenon of seemingly good spiritual fruit coming from questionable sources in the Church. Today, I would like to offer a few biblical observations to help us make more sense of this situation as lay Catholics. More...

Many of us who uphold the Church’s teachings, especially in questions of morals, have been told we’re not “compassionate.” How dare we tell couples they shouldn’t live together before marriage, or that they shouldn’t contracept, let alone abort, their children once they’re married? How dare we tell those with same-sex attractions to avoid acting upon these urges? How dare we bring up uncomfortable truths on a whole range of issues, from capital punishment and just wars to honesty, the rights of workers, and the Sunday obligation?

In other words, for many, truth is a hindrance to their conception of compassion and love. More...

In a previous post I mentioned my fondness for Marian antiphons/chants. Now that it’s Easter, the “Marian antiphon” of choice is the Regina Caeli (”Queen of Heaven”), which the Church usually substitutes for the Angelus during the Easter season. It's one of my family's favorites, as we typically sing it in the evening at prayer time. Here are the words for this beautiful chant:

Simple tone (Mode VI):

The English translation is:

Queen of heaven, rejoice, alleluia.
The Son whom you merited to bear, alleluia,
has risen as he said, alleluia.
Pray to God for us, alleluia.

The following is typically added when the prayer is recited in English, rather than sung: 

Leader: Rejoice and be glad, O Virgin Mary. Alleluia.
All: Because the Lord is truly risen, Alleluia.

Let us pray:
O God, Who by the Resurrection of Thy Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, has been pleased to give joy to the whole world, grant we beseech Thee, that through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary, His Mother, we may attain the joys of eternal life. Through the same Christ, our Lord. Amen.

Just one more interesting tidbit about the Regina Caeli: More...

Last night--or should I say, this morning--I returned from the pilgrimage to Rome. It was an amazing week on many levels, not the least of which being the blessed opportunity to share this experience with my daughter Mary Kate and others from her high school. I'm "decompressing" today, as there was so much to take in. In the coming days I hope to share more of last week through words and images.

One recurring thought I had during the week was that I was "standing on holy ground," like Moses' encounter of the burning bush in Exodus 3. Examples would include visits to the four major basilicas, the catacombs, and many other pilgrimage sites.

I was particularly moved by the day-trip to Assisi. The Basilica of St. Francis was just incredible, as was the the Basilica of Our Lady of the Angels. Inside the latter church, right in the middle, is the Porziuncola Chapel--a little church within a church, if you can picture that. That was especially meaningful to me, as there's a replica of the Porziuncola (sometimes called the Portiuncula or "Port") at my old alma mater, Franciscan University of Steubenville, which uses the Port as a Eucharistic adoration chapel. As I walked into the Porziuncola there was an inscription in Latin which again said that this was holy ground. And it truly is.

What put all this in perspective for me More...

This morning after Mass, I was praying privately with my five year-old son Raymond. I was kneeling on one knee and Ray was sitting on the other knee. I was helping Ray to develop the habit of praying to Jesus in his own words.

So I whispered, "I love you, Jesus." He then very reverently whispered, "I love you, Jesus."

Then I whispered, "Jesus, I trust in You." Raymond followed suit and sweetly whispered, "Jesus, I trust in You."

I was very proud of his effort to pray well. Plus, he was especially well behaved at Mass this morning. So I whispered, "Good boy."  Then Ray looked toward the tabernacle and whispered, "Good boy."

I whispered, "Rayyyy, I was talking to you!" He cheerfully responded, "Okay," and then he bounded back to the church vestibule. Mass (and prayer time) is over, time to go in peace. More...

My favorite Lenten hymn is “The Glory of These Forty Days.” What I like so much about it is its simple melody coupled with lyrics attributed to St. Gregory the Great that clearly teach us--or at least remind us--what Lent is all about.

The glory of these forty days
We celebrate with songs of praise;
For Christ, by whom all things were made,
Himself has fasted and has prayed. More...

When January 24th does not fall on Sunday, the Church celebrates on that date the feast of St. Francis de Sales (1567-1622), the great bishop and doctor of the Church. He authored some spiritual classics, most notably Introduction to the Devout Life.

I have a quote from St. Francis de Sales that I keep on my desk at all times (if memory serves, my wife wrote it down and gave it to me). Here's what it says:

"The worst defect in talking is talking too much. Hence, in speech be brief and virtuous, brief and gentle, brief and charitable, brief and amiable."

Currently I'm thoroughly enjoying (or I should say, benefitting from) Fr. Jacques Philippe's book Searching for and Maintaining Peace, which is a short, easy-to-read series of meditations on acquiring peace of heart.

In the section I read today, Fr. Philippe was discussing how our failure to really trust God is what keeps us from attaining peace of heart. One obstacle to trust is our failure to believe in divine providence. How do we know that God is really with us, caring for us in our daily struggles, fears, and sufferings, and leading us to eternal happiness?

Father then provides some wonderful food for thought (and prayer), including this very helpful analogy: More...

Since Pope John Paul II introduced the Luminous Mysteries of the Rosary nearly a decade ago, it’s been a joy and sometimes a challenge for my family to embrace these new mysteries. We are always on the lookout for new ways of approaching these rich episodes in Christ’s life.

As we’ve given more attention to the wedding at Cana (Jn. 2:1-11), the second Luminous Mystery and the Gospel for this coming Sunday, I’ve been amazed at the depth of this passage. There are so many ways to approach this event, where Christ worked His first public miracle. Let’s examine a few of them. More...

Some people are raised Catholic; others are raised Protestant. I was raised a Notre Dame fan. While other seven year-olds were learning--or not learning, after all, it was the sixties--their catechism, I was diligently memorizing the roster of ND's 1966 national championship team and delighting my elders with a rousing rendition of Cheer, Cheer for Ol' Notre Dame.

When by God's grace I became a fervent Catholic in the early 1980s, I became aware that the land of "Touchdown Jesus" was not the bastian of Catholic orthodoxy that one would expect in what is easily the most prominent institution of Catholic higher education in the country. I was extremely disappointed, and as I started having kids, I realized that I would not encourage my children to go there, because faith matters. And yet, I was able to set aside all these concerns and root for Notre Dame.

Until last year. More...