Reflections
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A new image for healthy boundaries
Last week, I was helping with a residency for the spiritual direction program at Divine Mercy University. There were 20 in the cohort – a beautiful and diverse mix of men and women, priests, deacons, and religious. This was their last residency before being given the green light to meet with people for spiritual direction (under the supervision of DMU). The residency included several role-plays on establishing a relationship, noticing things like transference, and most important of all, setting boundaries. Without boundaries, relationships in both spiritual direction and life can go awry. When this happens to me, I often end up stressed for being over-committed or feeling guilty for not…
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A new way to practice of the presence of God
I just finished leading a retreat which included reflections on practicing the presence of God. I used examples from the 17th-century spiritual classic, The Practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence. Brother Lawrence set a high bar for being in the presence of God. He said, “We should establish ourselves in a sense of God’s Presence, by continually conversing with him.” (1st Conversation) Hear that: Continually. His biographer adds, “With him, set times for prayer were no different than other times.” (2nd Conversation) Brother Lawrence was not your typical spiritual master. He held a lowly position in a Carmelite monastery. He was their cook. Later, when he was unable…
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But this is more than a moment to me…
I had a weird dream. A group was holding religious services in the chapel at the conference and retreat center where I used to work. They decorated the chapel with kitschy 70s disco decor as part of their worship. The entrance song began as the mirror ball turned and the colored lights danced around the dimly lit walls. Sounding like the Bee Gees, the choir changed the lyrics of their classic song, “More than a Woman”, to “More than a Moment”. In my dream, I thought how clever. To enter the space where God dwells, using a song to remind everyone that this is not just a point in time,…
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The Lord’s command: Be strong and courageous
“Don’t forget Laura.” That’s what several of the homeless people on my bus said as they pointed to a woman sitting alone in her walker in a distant parking lot. Because of her disability, she couldn’t walk down the grassy hill to the usual pick-up area. I made an extra stop. As I loaded her walker on the bus, she introduced herself to me . “Hi, I’m Laura. I’ve got M.S. That means I’m ‘Mighty Special’”. One of my most eye-opening experiences in working with the homeless is the sheer number of people with both physical and mental disabilities. Some say half of the homeless population is disabled. I might say more. …
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The most important part of prayer – remembering
Last month, I visited one of the oldest churches in Puebla, Mexico, the beautiful Templo de Convento de San Francisco. It was built by the Franciscans in 1516 as a monastery and place of worship. In one of the chapels of the church is the uncorrupted body of Blessed Brother Sebastián de Aparicio. He gave me a timeless lesson in the spiritual life: Remembering. Brother Sebastian had a fascinating life. He was born in poverty in 1502. He died in poverty in 1600. In between, he amassed a fortune building roads between the towns across Mexico. At the age of 73, he donated his wealth to the Poor Clares and…
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Mary sees her risen son. I see my mom.
There is a fascinating meditation in the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius: Imagine what it would be like if Jesus appeared to his mother after his resurrection. (#299) Though not recorded in scripture, it seems fitting that Mary would have been one of the people graced by the Lord’s resurrection appearances. This exercise took me in a surprising direction. As with all the Ignatian exercises, I imagined the scene. Mary was working in a garden surrounded by a rock wall. There was an open gate. It was early morning. The sun was rising through the gate. I felt the breeze and the sun’s warmth on my skin, smelled the fresh…
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How Pope Francis Changed My Life
When a friend or family member dies, I often write a letter to that person in my journal. Below is the letter I wrote to Pope Francis the morning I heard of his death… Dear Pope Francis, I awoke this Easter Monday morning to the sad news of your death. You were truly my shepherd. Your message of hope and vision for a new creation changed the trajectory of my life. I think back. When you were elected Pope, I was a General Manager for a large steel company. My focus was on making steel products. I had reached the pinnacle of my career and wielded a certain amount of…
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A New Image for Good Friday
On the First Sunday of Lent, I visited the Metropolitan Cathedral in Mexico City. I saw a most unusual crucifix. It is sometimes called the black Christ (Cristo Negro), but most often is referred to as the Miraculous Cross of Poison. The cross was originally like white marble, fashioned in the 1600s for the Porta Coeli (Heaven’s Gate) Dominican seminary. How did the cross turn ebony black? The accounts vary but agree that there was a man who had a particular devotion to this near-life-sized crucifix. He would faithfully kiss the feet of the corpus after Mass. The man had an enemy who wanted him dead. His enemy…
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My call? Well, I wanted to be like that man
I spent some time last week with my old friend, Pastor Fred. He’s a retired Baptist minister, 91 years old. I visit him from time to time, especially when I need stories infused with faith, hope, and perseverance. “When did you know you wanted to be a pastor?” I asked. “I wasn’t called all at once. My awareness came gradually. There was, however, one experience that stands out. He grew up in a mill town in Georgia. Both his parents worked in the nearby textile mill. His dad worked the evening shift, his mom the morning shift. That way, someone would be home to take care of him. Textile…
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It is better to light one candle…
While walking around the magnificent Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City, I captured a photo of one solitary man praying before thousands of candles. It spoke something profound to me. I asked my wife to give me a caption for this photo. She said, “You are not alone.” I imagined his prayer being represented by a solitary light. But joined with countless others. I was on side of the basilica called the Quemador de Veladoras (simply translated “Burner of Candles”). It was a wide pedestrian road. On the other side of the road were many pilgrims, young and old, sitting in the shade on the curb eating…
