The Spiritual Toolbox

Hello friends,

My post this week is a bittersweet one.  I am sitting here in my office on what is my last day as the Director of Religious Education at the Catholic Center at the University of Georgia.  As some of you know, I have decided to end this chapter of my life here in Athens, Georgia, and start a new chapter back in my hometown of New Orleans, Louisiana.  While I am very excited for the journey ahead, I can not help but pause and reflect over my time in Athens and look at the path and events that have led me to this point.  

The image of a toolbox is one that helps my reflection on these last few years.  As a young man, I have faced the reality of having to find my niche in adulthood while still maintaining the childhood joy and energy that allows me to view the world for the good.  As I have come to open my eyes and my heart to others over the last few years, I realize that this is both challenging and tiring but very necessary.  This is where the toolbox comes in to play.  If the purpose of a toolbox is to store instruments used to build, destroy, mend, or break, then I challenge myself to stock of what tools are in my toolbox.  Do I have more tools conducive to building and mending things than destroying or breaking?  I believe I do now.  Looking back over my years in Athens, I have acquired many new tools for my box that I firmly believe will help me in my work in the near and distant future.  When I realized that my spiritual toolbox had become quite full in Athens, I decided that the timing was right for me to move on to my next life project.

Please remember, though, that the tools we acquire in life do not always come from positive experiences.  Often we must struggle with life in order to gain a perspective or energy toward life that will then transform us into better spiritual carpenters if you will.  However, whether the positive or negative, each life experience provides us with a valuable tool that equips us to do good work wherever our next life project lies.

As I conclude my final post from Athens, I'd like to thank all of those who have shared their spiritual tools with me over the years:  my colleagues in the Clarke County School District, thank you; my training mates in the Athens running community, thank you; and of course, my family at the Catholic Center at UGA, thank you!!  For those of you reading this, please I hope you will take some time to look into your life's toolbox.  Get rid of those instruments of division (I've heard that the wedge is the devil's favorite tool), and increase the your instruments of unity.  By doing this we will all build up the city of God in which we are proud to live each day.

Rather than my usual closing sentiment, I'll leave you with the words of St. Julian of Norwich which were some of the first words that I learned form my very dear friend, Fr. Tom Vigliotta, ofm, five years ago:

All shall be well and all shall be well. In every manner of things, all shall be well.

If we use our tools for good, these words will echo true for years to come.

peace

A Meeting of Good

Over the last few years in Athens, GA, I have gotten to know people from many different cultures, faiths, backgrounds, etc.  This exposure to diversity has been a blessing for me in my personal development and appreciation of the world in which we live.  I have come to recognize the common ground that we all share simply as a result of our human bond.  While I understand that not everyone believes in Jesus or even God for that matter, I strongly believe that we can all still believe in one another because of our shared humanity.

Pope Francis spoke just the other day about this sentiment of shared humanity. Here is an excerpt from his homily:

The Lord created us in His image and likeness, and we are the image of the Lord, and He does good and all of us have this commandment at heart: do good and do not do evil. All of us. “But, Father, this is not Catholic! He cannot do good.” Yes, he can. He must. Not can: must! Because he has this commandment within him. . . .

The Lord has redeemed all of us, all of us, with the Blood of Christ: all of us, not just Catholics. Everyone! “Father, the atheists?” Even the atheists. Everyone! And this Blood makes us children of God of the first class! We are created children in the likeness of God and the Blood of Christ has redeemed us all! And we all have a duty to do good. . . . “But I don’t believe, Father, I am an atheist!” But do good: we will meet one another there.

Now, these words have the potential to cause debate and controversy over different teachings on salvation.  However, I challenge you to simply read them through a lens of commonality with our fellow brothers and sisters in humanity.  If we can try to do this, then I think we are more likely to walk in peace with one another whether we are Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, Muslim, Atheist, etc.  

Here is another resource on the words of Pope Francis that I came across yesterday. It attempts to answer a common question that arises from inclusive statements like the one Francis made this week.  

If Atheists Can Go to Heaven, Why Bother with Faith? 

A Jesuit priest on my Manresa retreat recently, shared with us a lesson on identity.  In essence, he was teaching us that when we focus on knowing and understanding that our primary identity is that we are beloved sons and daughters of God, friends of Christ, and temples of the Holy Spirit, we will be able to work through all that life presents us.  I might go a step further and say that when we embrace our primary identity, we will be able to meet any and everyone at doing good for each other.

May we be ever-faithful, ever-mindful, and ever-joyful. 

Blessed are those who Hunger...

I write my post this week with mixed feelings.  As the title this week suggests, I'd like to share a few thoughts about hunger.  Three things, in particular, happened to me this week that have influenced my reflection.

Last Sunday (Mother's Day), as I sat in the congregation at mass, I had the honor of sitting around several children.  These children, roughly 0-3 years old, struggling to fit the church norm of quiet cooperation, were happily engaged in their own tasks.  Of course, the parents were making their attempts to "shh" the children, but this did not work entirely.  Something about the gestures and sounds that these children were making put a smile on my face rather than a look of frustration that I might normally expect from myself.  I realized that these "children of God" were actually showing me the innocent joy that Jesus teaches us is a beautiful thing that we should allow ourselves to maintain throughout our lives.  Children hunger for simple joys and watching these children on Sunday affirmed for me that their parents are doing a good job satisfying this hunger through tender love and care.

Providing "tender love and care" for one's children through hugs, kisses, affirming language, and other positive reinforcement is so very important.  I'm so very thankful to have had all of these (and still have these) showered on my by my parents.  My development into adulthood, I believe, is a direct reflection of my parents' commitment to this affection.  However, my parents coupled this affection for me with access to good food and healthcare.  If my parents had not satisfied my physical hunger, I would have been more likely to have greater health concerns and more likely to struggle in school.  Most people would agree that children can not grow up healthy, smart, and motivated as a result of affection only.  Children (and adults, too, of course) need physical nourishment to sustain the mind and body on a daily basis.  Too often physical hunger goes unnoticed in our country (and world).  While I have understood on a cursory level that hunger is a problem in our society, I had no idea just how far-reaching it is in our own country.  This week, I saw a new documentary called A Place at the Table.  This documentary provides a close look at the issue of child hunger in the United States.  I encourage all of you to find this film and watch it.  Check out this website for more information: http://www.magpictures.com/aplaceatthetable/.  The greatest lesson I learned from the film is that one out of four children in the U.S. are hungry! This is outrageous given that there is more than enough food here to fix this problem.  I've come to believe that satisfying physical hunger first can lead to opening the door toward spiritual nourishment.  They are deeply connected to our being.

Sometimes, though, we have no idea just how connected or disconnected the physical and the spiritual hunger is for people.  This week, a terrible tragedy happened in our faith community.  One of the fourteen- year-old boys in our Religious Education program took his own life.  This freshman in high school came from wonderful parents who succeeded most often in satisfying he and his older brother's physical and spiritual hunger.  When things like this happen (which they seemingly happens more frequently these days), we can't even begin to imagine the depth of hunger that these young people go through.  Naturally, we start to ask "what if" questions that might have prevented such a tragedy.  However, all this does is deepen our own hunger for answers and reconciliation.  How do we then satisfy this hunger?  I would suggest we try to do so through faith, hope, and love.

As you can see, hunger is an extremely relevant reality for us today.  I pray that we all find ways to not only satisfy our own hungers, but also to help as many people as we can satisfy their own.

"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied." -Matthew 5:6

As I read the above passage, I believe that righteousness refers to any human's attempt to find the perfect joy and peace that comes from God.

May we be ever-faithful, ever-mindful, and ever-joyful.

Men of Manresa

Well, here we are, one year removed from my very first blog post.  What a pleasure it has been for me to share my thoughts and reflections with you over this last year.  I look forward to your continued support as I continue seeking the Spirit in my life.

One avenue that I have used to seek the Spirit for the past two years is a three day silent retreat at the Manresa House of Retreats in Convent, LA.  This retreat is a men's retreat centered around the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola.  The Jesuit priests who reside here host nearly six thousand men on weekend retreats each year.  The vast beautiful landscape, antebellum buildings, quiet environment, and challenging spiritual direction, allows the participants to look deeply into themselves to find God present to them in ways that are truly transformational.

I am honored to say that my dad has been a regular retreatant for twenty-two consecutive years.  While this was only my second year, I feel I now have a little insight into why my dad loves Manresa so much.  Part of this love comes from the room in which he stays each year: room 321.  Room 321 has a special story that I would like to share with you.

In May of 2000, a man decided to write down his thoughts and reflections about his retreat in a notebook.  Rather than taking the notebook with him upon the conclusion of his retreat, this man decided to leave the notebook along with his reflections on the desk in room 321.  Life moved on as spring turned to summer, summer to fall, fall to winter, and winter turned back to spring.  After a year of new successes, failures, joys, and concerns, this man returned to Manresa seeking spiritual renewal.  As he entered his "little room with a big view" as he called it, he saw that same notebook resting on his desk just as he had left it a year before.  Only this time, instead of his being the only journal entry in the notebook, it was full of the thoughts, reflections, stories, prayers, etc. of the many "men of 321" who graced that room with their presence over the past year.  As he began to read the notebook entries, he experienced great humility from such wonderful displays of spiritual poverty that these "roommates" of his courageously shared with each other.  Overwhelmed with joy and elation that could only come from God, the man realized that just as a notebook is bound by spiral rings, he was now bound by the Spirit to his brothers of room 321.  

While this story may be short and simple, its impact on the lives of the men who are a part of it has continued into the present day.  Over the last thirteen years, this journal, titled In My Room (inspired by the Beach Boys' song of the same name), continues to be a place of community and refuge for the Men of 321 as they continue to share their toils and triumphs with each other.  I am proud of my dad for beginning this wonderful Manresa testament.  And, as a recent occupant of 321, I am blessed to be able to count myself in this special fraternity of faith.

 The little room (321)

The big view

The Haro Men at Manresa

May we be ever-faithful, ever-mindful, and ever-joyful.

A Recycled Harmonic Spirit

A simple post for your reflection.  Please enjoy this video that a friend forwarded me.  I challenge you to view the video through eyes of compassion, justice, and awe.

Landfill Harmonic

May we be ever-faithful, ever-mindful, and ever-joyful.