Magis Institute

I'm in Wernersville, PA once again, at the Jesuit Center which used to be the novitiate of the Maryland Province. I arrived on Sunday and have been directing a retreat for about 20 priests and permanent deacons from several dioceses: Allentown, Harrisburg, Philadelphia, Newark, and Albany.

I had hoped to send readers of this blog to the web site of the Magis Institute but the spirituality section of the Institute's web site is currently under construction. Several Jesuits write daily reflections for the site and this week has been my turn. I don't have a regularly scheduled week but fill in as needed. You can subscribe to a service that will send you a daily email with the reflection, but the web site doesn't have that information on it just yet. When it does, I'll post it. In the meantime, here are the reflections that I posted for the last few days:

2 May 2010
Fifth Sunday of Easter

The psychiatrist M. Scott Peck wrote a book entitled “The Road Less Traveled” which sold over 7 million copies and remained on the “New York Times” bestseller list longer than any other paperback in history. It began with these words: “Life is difficult.” If this is true for life in general, it should be no surprise that in our first reading today Paul and Barnabas proclaimed: “It is necessary for us to undergo many hardships to enter the kingdom of God.”

Why? Jesus told us why in today’s gospel: “I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another.” Our world thinks of love as a feeling yet in his extremely popular book, Peck wrote that love is not a feeling but an act of the will, a choice, a decision, action. Anyone who has truly loved has suffered. Dorothy Day frequently quoted the great Russian novelist Dostoevsky that “love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared to love in dreams.” In his encyclical “God is Love,” Pope Benedict XVI wrote that in a world in which the word “love” is used in all sorts of contradictory ways, a definition for true love must begin by “contemplating the pierced side of Christ.” This is, in his words, “love in its most radical form.” This is the love that Jesus commands.

But Jesus does not command like a task-master. He gives what He commands—the power to love as He loved—by giving us His Body and Blood in the Eucharist. United to Jesus we are able to give all and to receive all—the new heaven and the new earth where every tear will be wiped away and death will be no more.


3 May 2010
Feast of the Apostles Philip and James

In the first reading St. Paul writes that through the Gospel he preached, the Corinthians “are also being saved.” Wait a minute! “Being saved?” Didn’t Christ die for our sins and rise on the third day? Aren’t we “saved?” There are some who so emphasize the work of salvation that Jesus accomplished that they in essence deny the human freedom to reject the salvation won for us. They claim, “once saved, always saved.” In other words, once you have accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior, that’s it. You’re assured of your salvation.

It isn’t that simple. Yes, Jesus died and rose for our salvation. In this way He indeed won our salvation. But we, in our life on earth, are in the process of accepting or rejecting the salvation He won for us. We are “being saved” when we cooperate with God’s grace. And this cooperation isn’t a one time, irrevocable decision. As Paul writes in another letter, “work out your salvation with fear and trembling” (Philippians 2: 12).

We see in the Gospel another line that, when taken out of context, can lead to a simplistic view of faith: “If you ask anything of me in my name, I will do it.” The name of Jesus is not a magic word that gives the one who asks whatever he or she wants. To ask “in the name of Jesus” means to ask as He asked. It means asking, as Jesus did in Gethsemane, but always adding “yet not my will but Yours be done, Father.” Asking in this way may involve some “fear and trembling”, but in the end it will mean cooperating with the grace Jesus won for us on the cross, and following Him into eternal life.


4 May 2010
Tuesday of the Fifth Week of Easter

In today’s Gospel Jesus makes a great promise: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.” But then He qualifies His gift: “Not as the world gives do I give it to you.” In other words, the peace of the world—no problems, a carefree existence, and the absence of suffering, or, the stand-off peace of mutually-assured destruction—is not the peace that Jesus leaves. His peace is deeper. It’s like the calm of the depths of the ocean though storms rage on the surface.

St. Paul knew that peace. He faced so much opposition and so many “hardships” that he was even stoned and left for dead, as we read in the first reading from Acts. Though he was only stoned once, he was given 39 lashes five different times, was beaten with rods three times, and was shipwrecked three times. His only anxiety was not for himself but for the churches he had founded (see 2 Corinthians 12: 23-28).

How can peace and such suffering co-exist? Jesus warned us that “the ruler of the world is coming.” C.S. Lewis wrote that we are living in “enemy-occupied territory.” St. Ignatius said that we are each faced with a choice to stand under the flag or standard of Satan or under the standard of Jesus whose “appearance [is] beautiful and attractive.” Under His standard we can be at peace, we can have untroubled and fearless hearts. Why? Because with His death and resurrection the outcome of the war has already been determined. The victory over sin and death has been achieved. We need only embrace it ourselves.

Priesthood of the Faithful

Yesterday, Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Easter, I came upon a favorite sermon of mine in the Breviary. It's from St. Peter Chrysologus and it's based on a Scripture passage (Romans 12: 1)that we often use in the Apostleship of Prayer to provide a Scriptural basis for making a daily offering of ourselves, all the prayers, works, joys, and sufferings of our day.

The sermon begins with love. We are only able to make a loving offering of ourselves if we are deeply aware of the offering that Jesus has made for us. Thus, St. Peter Chrysologus writes:

Listen to the Lord's appeal: In me, I want you to see your own body, your members, your heart, your bones, your blood. You may fear what is divine, but why not love what is human? You may run away from me as the Lord, but why not run to me as your father? Perhaps you are filled with shame for causing my bitter passion. Do not be afraid. This cross inflicts a mortal injury, not on me, but on death. These nails no longer pain me, but only deepen your love for me. I do not cry out because of these wounds, but through them I draw you into my heart. My body was stretched on the cross as a symbol, not of how much I suffered, but of my all-embracing love. I count it no loss to shed my blood: it is the price I have paid for your ransom. Come, then, return to me and learn to know me as your father, who repays good for evil, love for injury, and boundless charity for piercing wounds.

Then St. Peter Chrysologus talks about the call of the baptized to make a return offering of themselves to the Lord. He says:

Listen now to what the Apostle [Paul] urges us to do. "I appeal to you," he says, "to present your bodies as a living sacrifice." By this exhortation of his, Paul has raised all men to priestly status.

How marvelous is the priesthood of the Christian, for he is both the victim that is offered on his own behalf, and the priest who makes the offering. He does not need to go beyond himself to seek what he is to immolate to God: with himself and in himself he brings the sacrifice he is to offer God for himself. The victim remains and the priest remains, always one and the same. Immolated, the victim still lives: the priest who immolates cannot kill. Truly it is an amazing sacrifice in which a body is offered without being slain and blood is offered without being shed.

A bit later, St. Peter Chrysologus, after making reference to a quote from Psalm 40 that also appears in Hebrews 10, he concludes with a practical exhoration on how to live the offering that all the baptized faithful are called to make:

Paul says: "I appeal to you by the mercy of God to present your bodies as a sacrifice, living and holy." The prophet said the same thing: "Sacrifice and offering you did not desire, but you have prepared a body for me." Each of us is called to be both a sacrifice to God and his priest. Do not forfeit what divine authority confers on you. Put on the garment of holiness, gird yourself with the belt of chastity. Let Christ be your helmet, let the cross on your forehead be your unfailing protection. Your breastplate should be the knowledge of God that he himself has given you. Keep burning continually the sweet-smelling incense of prayer. Take up the sword of the Spirit. Let your heart be an altar. Then, with full confidence in God, present your body for sacrifice. God desires not death, but faith; God thirsts not for blood, but for self-surrender; God is appeased not by slaughter, but by the offering of your free will.

Ten Years Ago Today

Ten years ago today I left Holy Transfiguration Skete in Eagle Harbor Michigan. I had been there for over 7 months while on a sabbatical. I was there discerning whether or not God was calling me to a new vocation as a monk in this Ukrainian Byzantine Catholic monastery on the shores of Lake Superior. I was convinced that God was calling me out of the Jesuits and into the monastic life, but every day for about 7 months I prayed the following prayer: "Lord, I really want to be a monk here. I think You are calling me to be one. But if this is not Your will, if this is not want You want, hit me over the head!" I've always thought that it's a good idea to be direct with God.

I wasn't literally hit over the head, but after those 7 months, when I had about three weeks left in my monastic sabbatical and discernment period, God made it clear that He wanted me to remain in the Society of Jesus. In retrospect I see what a blessing all this was.

It was a blessing to experience the rich traditions of the Eastern Church. I can say that for those 7 months I learned to breathe a bit with the Eastern lung of the Church, as Pope John Paul II used to say. And, I returned to my life as a Jesuit renewed.

Ten years ago today I left the shore of Lake Superior and arrived here, on the shore of Lake Demontreville, where I worked for the next three years at the Jesuit Retreat House here. I'm In all of this I see God's hand preparing me for my current assignment as the U.S. director of the Apostleship of Prayer. I'm glad that this ministry gives me the opportunity to return to Demontreville to give retreats from time to time. This is a ministry where the words from the Peace Prayer attributed to St. Francis ring true: "It is in giving that we receive."

Joy at Demontreville

Demontreville is the name of a lake in the St. Paul suburb of Lake Elmo. It's also the name by which most people know the Jesuit Retreat House that is located here. I gave my first retreat here in 1986 and have given over 60 retreats since then. The retreats start at 7 PM on Thursday and end at 7 PM on Sunday. They are silent retreats for men and consist of 14 half hour talks that lead the retreatants through the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius.

I'm giving the retreat this weekend and, as always happens, I can tell how I'll be feeling around 4:30 PM on Saturday afternoon. Not tired. Not down. Consoled and "flying high" would be the best description. Why? On Saturday the period after the 2:30 PM talk is set aside for the celebration of the Sacrament of Reconciliation. The 71 men on retreat this weekend all had the opportunity to go to confession to one of four Jesuit confessors. I know from experience that when the time for confession is over I'll be feeling the way I'm feeling now.

As a priest, celebrating the Sacrament of Reconciliation is one of the most consoling things that I do. Through it I get to share in the joy that Jesus has in forgiving sins. I believe that this was the greatest thrill that He had when He walked this earth. He came to take away the sins of the world and it gave Him great pleasure to tell people, "Go in peace, your sins are forgiven." And so as His instrument of forgiveness today, I share in the pleasure He feels every time people bring their burden of sins, say they are sorry, and ask for pardon and absolution.

"Spring" Ministry

On Wednesday, on my way to the St. Paul, MN area, I stopped in Spring Valley, Wisconsin, a small town not too far from the Interstate on which I drove. Sacred Heart Church invited me to meet with their young adult group. After a fabulous pot-luck supper (it seems parishioners always outdo themselves in providing the best of their recipes for things like this), I met with the young people from 6 to 8. I began by telling the story of St. Ignatius and how he went from being a very worldly young man to being on fire for the Lord. It all started with a canon ball, a badly injured leg, an illness that almost killed him, and a couple books. Laid up from his wound and the subsequent surgeries, Ignatius ended up reading the only things that were available in his family's castle--a book of the life of Christ and another of the lives of the saints. His dreams gradually changed from continuing his worldly path of doing brave deeds to win the hand of a fair maiden to doing brave deeds for Jesus. I used this story of his life to talk about discerning one's way through life, one's vocation, and how important it is to pay attention to the movements of our hearts.

I then talked about how St. Ignatius, in the Spiritual Exercises, taught a method of prayer involving the use of one's imagination. We are to read a gospel passage and imagine ourselves in the scene. I always like to take that a step further and invite people to imagine what was going on it the mind and heart of Jesus and, in that way, learning to think His thoughts and feel with the deep desires of Jesus' Heart.

Before our break, I played a song entitled "Salt and Light." I've always thought of this song as an example of how the symbol of the heart is universal. While Catholics may speak of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, all Christians speak of a desire to have this Heart. This song, written and played by Evangelical Christians, speaks to me of what devotion to the Sacred Heart is all about. Here are the lyrics:

You make me want to be like You

Your holiness I will pursue

I want the heart of Jesus

Show me the meaning of Your grace

I want to give the world a taste

of the love of Jesus.

Make me salt

Make me light

Let Your holy fire ignite

Reveal Your glory in my life

I am not ashamed

To lift up Your holy name

Make me salt

Make me light

As a city on a hill

A lamp on a stand

Mold me in Your image

The work of Your hand

Did you notice how even some of the imagery of pictures of the Sacred Heart is in this song? "Let your holy fire ignite." That holy fire is the fire of love that burns in the Heart of Jesus. It's a flame that will set us on fire and then spread to others. That, I think, is the essence of every vocation. The vocation of every human being is to know, love, and serve God. We come to know God through Jesus who reveals the depths of God's love. As we come to know God we can't help but love God and this love shows itself in action, in how we live our lives. So no matter what vocation we are called to--marriage, consecrated life, priesthood, single--we will only truly live that vocation faithfully if we do so in response to the love of God, if we are on fire with the love of God revealed in the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

Blessed Bernardo de Hoyos

My religious order, the Society of Jesus, has a new "blessed" today. Blessed Bernardo de Hoyos, who lived from 1711 to 1735, was beatified in Spain. This young Spanish Jesuit joins an illustrious group of young Jesuit saints: St. Stanislaus Kostka who was 17 when he died, St. John Berchmans who was 22, and St. Aloysius Gonzaga who was 24. Bl. Bernardo de Hoyos was also only 24 when he died but unlike the others he was a priest. Wait a minute! Doesn't Jesuit formation take 10 to 12 years or more from the time of entrance to ordination? Yes. So did Bl. Bernardo rush through the normal course? No, not really. Why? Because he entered the Jesuits when he was only 14 and he served less than 11 months as a priest before he died of typhus.


What makes this new Jesuit blessed especially important to the Apostleship of Prayer is that he is known as the first apostle of the Sacred Heart in Spain. In a short time, Bl. Bernardo grew in holiness through his devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.


In 1732 he wrote: "I see that everything in my heart is moving towards God, drawn like iron to a magnet. It desires only God, searches only for God, and longs only for God." Within a year of this he felt a deep call to promote devotion to the Heart of Jesus. He wrote: "I felt in my spirit an extraordinary motion--strong, gentle, not abrupt or impetuous. I then placed myself before the Blessed Sacrament, offering myself to His Sacred Heart in order to cooperate as much as possible ... in propagating devotion to it."


These two quotes remind me of something that Pope John Paul II wrote in his letter announcing the Year of the Eucharist, "Mane Nobiscum Domine:" "The presence of Jesus in the tabernacle must be a kind of magnetic pole attracting an ever greater number of souls enamoured of him, ready to wait patiently to hear his voice and, as it were, to sense the beating of his heart."

"Deus Caritas Est"

I'm in Alhambra, California, at the Sacred Heart Retreat House which is run by the Carmelite Sisters of the Most Sacred Heart of Los Angeles. Though I haven't been here since December, 2008, this is my fifth retreat and it will be for about 40 women. The retreats go from Friday evening until Sunday noon.

The Sisters choose a theme for the year and for 2010 it's "Deus Caritas Est" or "God is Love." The five talks I'll be giving are: 1) God is Love, but what is Love? 2) God is Creative Love; 3) God is Redemptive Love; 4) God is Self-Sacrificing Love; 5) God is Eternal Love.