Talking spiritual friendship on Son Rise Morning Show

If you missed my interview on Son Rise Morning Show with Brian Patrick, have no fear. It's right here on podcast. Zoom ahead to the 2:13 mark, if you want to go right to Brian's interview with me about my new book.

Click HERE to listen in.

Finding soul friends for the spiritual journey

In this age of Facebook and Twitter, when we can have hundreds, even thousands of "friends," many people still feel isolated or lonely. We may have more virtual friendships than we can count, but nothing that dips below the surface to touch the soul. Spiritual friendship offers something more, the possibility of connecting with true soul mates who journey with us on our path toward God. It's not some newfangled notion, but rather an ancient tradition with scriptural roots.

Interested in learning more? Check out my story, "How to Develop Spiritual Friendships," in the November 7 issue of OSV by clicking HERE.

You can also catch me talking about this topic and my new book, "Walking Together: Discovering the Catholic Tradition of Spiritual Friendship," on the following radio and cable shows on Friday, Oct. 29:

8:30 a.m. ET, Spirit Radio, KVSS 102.7 FM, Omaha/Lincoln region

10:40 a.m., Everyday Faith Live!, Telecare-TV on Cablevision or Verizon FIOS, New York Metro area. You can also watch the show live online by clicking HERE.

You can't make this stuff up

Take a good look at the photo above. This is a perfect statement on my life at this point. Or a good indication of why my sanity seems to be in constant peril. Let me give you the back story...

I decided to take a deep breath and head into Olivia's room for a bit of de-cluttering today. We needed to move summer clothes out and winter clothes in, but it's not nearly so simple with my beloved 10-year-old middle child. She is a collector, a pack rat extraordinaire. I dare any other 10-year-old to top her. And just so you know I'm not exaggerating, let me take you through just one drawer in her bedroom. That is where I discovered the items above. I'll introduce you.

On the left we have her collection of "whistling acorns," and, trust me, she practices her acorn whistling all the time. Next we have "Spoonella." Yes, that is a plastic spoon with a pipe cleaner wrapped around it. You might not be able to see her little eyes and nose, but they're there. Next in our crazy lineup is my personal favorite: Pinkie. When I pulled this little gem out of the drawer and started to toss it into the trash bag because it is the broken heel off a plastic dress-up shoe, Olivia screamed. It's a dog. She turned a broken shoe into a dog and will not part with it. Need I say more? Why, yes. I do need to say more.

Bringing up the rear in our photo is the balloon she got at a gymnastics birthday party one year ago. Apparently she's holding onto this one to see just how small it will get. That, too, was saved from the trash heap. And, what I wasn't able to photograph for fearing of ruining furniture was the oozing bag of "goop" brought home from school last year. This mix of water, glue and who knows what else was seeping out of its sandwich bag and onto everything around it. That I threw away, despite the arguments.

So there you have it. I could go on and on...the shoe box full of "fossils," the Hello Kitty tin of tags saved off clothing (she bequeathed this to Chiara today), the endless stacks of journals with one page written in each -- the one to save the pandas, the one to save the earth, the one to document nature, the one to catalog fairies, the one for her detective "business."

Despite my frustration over the disaster that is her room, this kid makes me smile and smile. Just writing this post and thinking about her wide-eyed face as she described Spoonella makes me happy. And Spoonella isn't the only one of her kind. She has family somewhere among Olivia's friends. Did I ever have an imagination this amazing? I don't think so. How I wish I could go back to that magical place if only for a day.

Go ahead, open a drawer. You never know what kind of treasures you might find.

Judging a candidate by her clothes. What year is it again?

Show of hands, please? Who here votes for a candidate based on what he or she is wearing? Didn't think so. You can put your hands down.

Why -- WHY? -- does the NY Times feel the need to devote a giant feature story in today's Style section to what the candidates -- wait, let me correct that -- what the FEMALE candidates are wearing on the campaign trail this season? Have we really not moved forward at all? Are women still going to be judged on their hair, their glasses, their pant suits, or lack therof?

Apparently we have not made one inch of progress when it comes to judging women candidates based on what they say or do. We're all still back in the high school lunch room, checking out the cool girls and wishing we could be like them, or risking a date to the prom -- or the general election -- if we're not.

First of all, why is there a story about this at all? And when will the feature on the fashion sense of male candidates be making its way to print. (Although I wouldn't be surprised if that doesn't eventually show up given what I'm sure will be the outrage the Times will hear from fed-up female readers.) Second, are they saying it's impossible for someone to look like Sarah Palin but think like Hillary Clinton, and vice versa. Do we still think someone has to look like a man to think like a man, and why do we want someone to look and think like a man? Look what that's gotten us so far. But I digress...

A clip from the story, with the voice of reason coming from the editor of Vogue:

Indeed, there is much to suggest that women who aspire to office continue to dress defensively. Frightened, even terrified, of committing a wardrobe gaffe on national airwaves, most adhere to a rigid, patently dated style that has all the allure of a milk carton.

The prevailing look, modeled on corporate executives, with an occasional nod to the astringent style of female news anchors, is anathema to professional style-watchers. When, during her presidential campaign, Mrs. Clinton declined an invitation to appear in Vogue magazine for fear, her handlers said, of appearing “too feminine,” Anna Wintour fired off a scathing editor’s letter.

“The notion that a contemporary woman must look mannish in order to be taken seriously is frankly dismaying,” Ms. Wintour chided. “I do think Americans have moved on from the power suit mentality. Political campaigns that do not recognize this are making a serious misjudgment.”

Thank you, Anna Wintour, for saying what needs to be said. Is anyone listening? Are any man-tailored suits being packed into Hefty bags and put out by the curb?

I just don't get it. Then again, when I was managing editor of Catholic New York, my work "uniform" of choice was this: Pier One dresses imported from India, men's black cowboy boots transported from Texas, and a vintage military jacket purchased at the closest second-hand shop. That might explain why I'm not a CEO -- or a politician. Or why I've chosen to work in my basement where it's always casual Friday.

I'm voting for the first person to show up in a tie-dye skirt and a fringed leather jacket. I happen to have one you can borrow if you're running for office.

Remembering the North American Martyrs

By Mary DeTurris Poust

One of my favorite places in upstate New York, just 45 minutes from my home, is the National Shrine of the North American Martyrs, whose feast we celebrate today. Those three crosses in the photo above mark the entrance to the shrine with the names of three martyrs: Jesuit missionaries Isaac Jogues, Rene Goupil and Jean La Lande.

The shrine in Auriesville, which is also the birthplace of Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha, is not just a beautiful location in the Mohawk Valley but a truly sacred spot, steeped in the history and blood of the martyrs who suffered there. You can walk the ravine and read St. Isaac Jogues' own words explaining the prolonged torture and terrifying death St. Rene Goupil suffered at the hands of the Iroquois. It was a hatchet blow to the head while Rene Goupil was teaching the Sign of the Cross to children that finally sealed his fate in 1642. Isaac Jogues didn't fare any better, having survived years of torture and enslavement and having his fingers chewed or burned off. He was killed and decapitated in 1646.

The other Jesuits martyred in North America are Antony Daniel, Charles Garnier, Noel Chabanel, Gabriel Lalemant, and John de Brebeuf.

I didn't really know much about Jean de Brebeuf until I read Jesuit Father James Martin's post over on America magazine's In All Things blog today. From Father Martin's wonderful (if a bit gruesome) post:

Jean's first journey to the Huron homeland, 800 miles from Quebec, was grueling. Jean tied his shoes around his neck, hiked up his cassock and climbed into the bark canoe. This passage, from Donnelly's biography, Jean de Brébeuf, first published in 1975, made a lasting impression on me when I read it as a novice:

On a journey the Indians spoke little, saving their energy for paddling their average of ten leagues, about thirty miles a day. Squatted on their haunches, immobile for hours on end, except for the swing of their arms and shoulders wielding the paddle, they generally had no small talk. Rising at dawn the Hurons heated water into which they dropped a portion of coarsely pounded corn….[After] their scanty meal, the Hurons launched the canoes and began another day of silent travel. In the evening, when the light began to fail the Indians, making camp for the night, ate their [corn meal] and stretched out on the bare ground to sleep. The swarms of mosquitoes, deer flies, and other insects…seemed not to bother the Indians….Then at dawn the whole painful process began again.

Read the full post HERE, and, if you can, make a pilgrimage to the shrine. I have posted multiple times about Auriesville because once you've been there, it stays with you and you want to go back. I've even had the opportunity to camp in a tent on the shrine grounds during a Boy Scout retreat. You can read about my previous visits by clicking HERE, or by clicking on the "Auriesville" tag below. I'll leave you with a few parting images of the shrine from my most recent visit:

My conversation with Archbishop Dolan

You can tune into my conversation with Archbishop Timothy Dolan of New York on the Catholic Channel (Sirius 159 and XM 117) today at 1 p.m. EST. We'll be talking about my newest book, "Walking Together: Discovering the Catholic Tradition of Spiritual Friendship" (Ave Maria Press).

The show will be repeated at 6 a.m. and 1 p.m. ET on Saturday, and at 9 a.m and 6 p.m. ET on Sunday.

A saint for all seasons

In honor of the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi, I thought I'd re-run a column I wrote about one of my favorite saints:

Out in my perennial garden, nestled among the stonecrop and candytuft, stands a well-worn clay statue of St. Francis of Assisi made by an artisan in Mexico. The unusual characteristics of the statue make it a conversation piece as well as a spiritual touchstone that helps keep me centered as I dig and weed and plant.

Of course, I’m not alone. Drive down any street and you’re likely to find St. Francis peeking out from both well-manicured lawns and wildflower gardens run amuck. He is just as likely to share a garden with a statue of Buddha as he is to share one with a statue of the Blessed Mother. He is a saint of the people – all people, Catholics and non-Catholics alike. His broad appeal is fascinating, but at the same time it begs the question: Do those of us who plant St. Francis in our gardens really know what the medieval saint was all about?

Today Francis’ concerns are often compartmentalized by well-meaning folks who want to claim him for their own. And who can blame them? He is certainly a challenging but endearing saint for the ages.

Environmentalists tune into Francis’ love for creation, his “Canticle of Brother Sun,” his diligence in protecting trees and even “brother” fire, and find in him a kindred spirit. Animal lovers hear stories of him preaching to birds and taming a wolf and see in Francis the kind of saint who has rightly earned his status as patron of animals. His popularity comes into full view every year at this time, when adults and children alike line up outside churches with everything from goldfish swimming in glass bowls to German shepherds straining at leather leashes just for a chance to get their pets a blessing on Francis’ feast day.

Peace activists, interreligious leaders, social justice organizers -- the St. Francis fan club goes on and on. It seems everyone can find a piece of Francis to suit their cause. But, if you put all of those individual causes into the Gospel context that was at the heart of Francis’ rule and spirituality, you come away with a very different picture of our lovable saint, one that is not so easily shaped and molded by the latest trends or causes.

Would those St. Francis lawn statues be as popular if we really stopped to reflect on what they stand for? Francis’ life was one centered on his love of Christ, his commitment to a radical living out of the Gospel, and his “marriage” to the bride he dubbed “Lady Poverty”? The path that St. Francis chose was not an easy one. He was ridiculed and mocked as a madman during his own lifetime for what appeared to be an extreme response to his conversion experience.

He renounced his family’s fortune, fasted for days on end, heard the Lord speak to him from a cross in San Damiano, bore the stigmata. He lived and died for Christ. It would be a disservice to him and all he stood for to try to slip a politically correct mask over the spiritually devout saint who did not do anything halfway.

Sometimes I wonder how I can possibly weave Francis’ difficult and often uncomfortable lessons into my exceedingly comfortable existence. How do those of us with warm homes and busy jobs and nice clothes make St. Francis into something more than a decoration or a mascot? It’s not easy, but maybe, just maybe, seeing St. Francis from the kitchen window as we wash dishes or raking leaves from around his feet as we clean the yard will call us back to our spiritual center and remind us that what we do here on this earth cannot be separated from what we long for in heaven.

Signs of the Season

Well, autumn is definitely upon us. Here are shots from the yard just to prove it:

Plague of acorns. I am not kidding. Acorns are dropping in epic proportions. Walking around the yard is like walking on ball bearings. The clatter of acorns dropping on the roof and deck from our very tall and mighty oak trees makes it sound like a war zone. Come by and visit, if you like, but wear a hard hat.


Inching along. This fuzzy little fellow almost ended up on the curb in a barrel full of acorns, but I rescued him at the last minute and moved him to higher ground. Someone out there may be able to look at his stripes and give us a winter weather forecast. Although I'm thinking the plethora of acorns is probably all the forecast we need. Prepare for snow.



Toad lilies. These delicate little flowers are autumn-blooming lilies. And the best part? Deer don't like them. Don't ask me why, but even with all those acorns to feast on the deer are still decimating the rest of my garden.



Autumn rose. This little beauty surprised me yesterday.



Last blooms. The stonecrop (or sedum) are among the last of our flowers on the scene each season. Pumpkins and Indian corn can't be far behind when these beauties show their heads.


Still waiting for the trees to turn, but that will come soon enough...

Rome Moment: Wrong Turn, Right Location

Throughout my Roman adventure, I found that the most moving moments were often the hidden ones, the moments when I met someone or ended up somewhere that I hadn't planned or expected. So I thought I'd begin to share some of those moments that make for my most lasting memories of Rome.

On my second full day in Rome, I struck out on my own to try to squeeze in as much sightseeing as possible before the "Church Up Close" program began the next day. So after a delicious breakfast of cappuccino and cornetti, I went to Mass at the Gesu, the Jesuit church near my hotel, and visited the rooms of St. Ignatius. Then I made my way to the Vittorio Emmanuele Monument, the Imperial Way, the Colosseum, and, eventually, the Roman Forum. And although I could clearly see the Roman Forum from where I stood outside the Colosseum, getting inside the gates wasn't so simple. I began walking up a hill, only to find an entry point closed with an arrow pointing me toward another hill, where I assumed I'd find the correct entry gate.

So, on this 90 degree afternoon when I was hot and hungry from wandering all over and skipping lunch, I began the long slow climb up Palatine Hill. And I climbed. And I climbed. And I wondered, Am I going in the right direction? But it was beautiful and there were some others making the same climb, so I trudged on, passing the beautiful cloistered monastery of San Sebastiano on the way up. Finally, I got to the top. A dead end. Wrong turn.

But there in front of me was the simple but stunning Chiesa di San Bonaventura al Palatino, as seen in the photo above. And it was open, despite the fact that it was siesta time. So I went in and found a little oasis in the desert. In that lonely, darkened church, a lone voice sang Gregorian chant, and as I knelt there, grateful for the mistake that led me to this place, I was reminded again that pilgrimage is not about checking off a list of destinations visited but a journey meant to take us to places we have never imagined.

There were so many moments like that on my Rome trip, moments I hope to share with you in the days ahead. And it makes me wonder, how many of those moments do I miss in my everyday pilgrimage through life here at home?

Day by Day with St. Ignatius

When I opened up my Word of God Everyday email this morning and saw the quote from St. Ignatius of Loyola, I have to admit I was surprised:

Lord,
grant that I may see you more clearly,
love you more dearly,
follow you more nearly.

Do you know how many times I sang those words back in the 1970s at folk Mass? We were pretty regularly doing the songs from Godspell in those days, and 'Day By Bay' was one of the all-time favorites among teens and parents alike. But back then I didn't realize the words of that song were taken from the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius.

I think I'll break out my guitar and give this one a reprise. Does anyone have a tambourine?

Join me for an online retreat

Through the recommendation of a friend (Thanks, Deacon Al), I am beginning an online retreat sponsored by Creighton University. It's a free, 34-week program designed to help busy people fit sacred, silent time into daily life. Although you can start it at any point, if you'd like to follow the liturgical calendar throughout the retreat, you should start this week. It's the official first week of the retreat. You can easily jump in now. I did just that today.

It's quite lovely. There are online guides, prayers, Scripture readings, and even a weekly photo that can be used as a screen saver if you want to immerse yourself in the message. The retreat takes its cues from Ignatian spirituality, which makes sense since Creighton is a Jesuit institution.

The retreat starts this week with "Our Life Story." It's a very un-intimidating way to enter into a retreat mindset, starting with what you know. If you're interested, click HERE to go to the main online retreat page. From there you'll see links on how to get started. If you prefer to read hard copy instead of a screen, all of the guides are available in a printer-friendly format. And there's even a book form of the retreat if that's more your style.

If you decide to do the retreat, please email me or let me know in the comment section so we can touch base and share stories. And so we can pray for one another. Blessings as you begin!

Being catholic with both a big and small "c"

My recent post on experiencing Mass from a new perspective, garnered (as expected) some comments both here and on OSV Daily Take, and it got me thinking. So much so that I decided I needed to write another post, not just another comment.

Some of the reaction to my positive experience of attending Mass with the priest facing away from me suggested that I was looking for a return to the old ways, to the days of Latin Mass. Which is kind of funny because even as some -- particularly on the OSV blog -- were reacting to what appeared to be my traditionalism or conservatism, others were reacting on a completely different matter to what appeared to be my progressivism or liberalism. And all of it just made me chuckle.

I seem to confound people because I cannot be defined. I cannot be pigeon-holed. Not as a Catholic. Not as a political being. Not as a person. I do not -- and will not -- fit into someone else's mold of what they think I am or should be. But it's a little frightening how quickly people want to slap a label on someone, to create another person in their own image, or -- as is too often the case -- in the image of the thing they dislike or oppose. Can't we all just get along?

What I find most beautiful about the Catholic faith is its diversity, its ability to include so many different styles and traditions and cultures and spiritualities under one roof. And my spiritual life reflects that diversity. I am as at home listening to Gregorian Chant as I am the St. Louis Jesuits or Christian pop music. I can see the beauty in attending a Mass where the priest is facing away from me or a Mass where I've helped make the Communion bread. I can just as easily fall in step beside people from Opus Dei as I can people from Sant'Egidio. My faith is not in any way limited by a certain style or tradition or a feeling that I must or must not do something in order to stay true to a particular vein of Catholicism. I am Catholic and I am catholic, with a small "c," which, as you know, is part of our creed and reminds us of our call to be "universal."

But, in this age of political -- and I guess spiritual -- purity, the middle road is often the one less traveled. I don't fit in anywhere, really. My way is a blend of what I see as all the very best things of this amazing Catholic faith, as taught by our Church and practiced by our people. I am not afraid to venture into new territory to hear about or experience a new perspective, an old tradition, or a cutting-edge philosophy. I can pick up a set of Rosary beads or pray before an icon just the same. I can recite the foundational prayers of our faith or sit in the silence of centering prayer. All of it leads me to Jesus.

I would love to hear from others who find themselves in this middle ground, who appreciate and bask in the many different traditions of our faith, regardless of what "side" they fall on. There should be no sides here. Just the never-ending circle of God's all-powerful love. Can I get an "Amen"?

The first review of 'Walking Together'

Catholic columnist Therese Borchard wrote a review of my new book, "Walking Together: Discovering the Catholic Tradition of Spiritual Friendship," which has been published in various Catholic newspapers.

Here it is:

By Therese J. Borchard
9/8/10

I've long known the truth of Martin Buber's line: "When two people relate to each other authentically and humanly, God is the electricity that surges between them."

It's the same message that Jesus speaks in Matthew 18:20: "For where two or three come together in my name, there I am with them."

I have always been intrigued and fascinated by the classic stories of spiritual friendship, especially in the Catholic tradition: Francis of Assisi and Clare, Thérèse of Lisieux and Maurice Bellière, Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross, Hildegard of Bingen and Bernard of Clairvaux, Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin, and Peter Abelard and Heloise.

It was with great interest, then, that I read Walking Together: Discovering the Catholic Tradition of Spiritual Friendship, by journalist Mary DeTurris Poust. Her text examines examples of spiritual friendship from well-known saints, writers and modern religious leaders and gives instructions on how to cultivate meaningful relationships in a world where people feel increasingly isolated despite all the technology and social networking tools designed to keep us connected.

Why are spiritual friendships important?

Poust explains, "Spiritual friendship(s) (are) connected to our God-given mission, our calling to live out our faith in the everyday world. ... They are not about possession but about transformation."

However, these bonds aren't entirely up to us to form. Poust quotes Christian apologist C.S. Lewis, who reminds us that God chooses our companions for us. Lewis asserts, "The friendship is not a reward for our discrimination and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each the beauties of all the others...Continue reading HERE.

A book about spiritual friendship for a bishop who lives it

It was perfectly fitting that I would get the chance to present my newest book, "Walking Together: Discovering the Catholic Tradition of Spiritual Friendship," to Bishop Howard Hubbard of Albany at the National Shrine of the North American Martyrs in Auriesville this past Saturday.

Bishop Hubbard was kind enough to sit down and share with me his own story of lifelong spiritual friendship with Bishop Matthew Clark of Rochester. Their friendship opens chapter 10 of my book, a chapter that focuses not only on pilgrimage to sacred places but pilgrimage to an interior place. In that chapter, I talk about my first pilgrim visit to Auriesville. So things came full circle on Saturday when everything aligned to bring us together in that beautiful spot along the Mohawk River.

Thank you again to Bishop Hubbard for being so honest and open about his own faith journey, his friendship, and his spiritual struggles. I know his story will inspire others.

You can pre-order my book by clicking HERE for amazon.com, HERE for Ave Maria Press, or HERE for B&N.com. Its official release date is Nov. 1.

From Italy to Auriesville: A pilgrimage closer to home

I'm in a pilgrim state of mind, so it seemed like a natural segue to go from sacred places in Rome to sacred places in upstate New York. One of my favorite pilgrimage sites only 45 minutes from my house is the Shrine of the North American Martyrs (above), where Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha was born and where Jesuit priests Isaac Jogues and Rene Goupil and lay missioner John LaLande where martyred. It's a beautiful spot soaked with a spirituality that resonates with every step.

I was there this weekend for a Boy Scout Mass, where Noah received his Ad Altare Dei award along with seven other boys from our troop. It was a beautiful day at a beautiful place. Here are a few photos from the visit.

In the ravine, where Isaac Jogues buried the body of Rene Goupil. You can read the story in Isaac Jogues' own words:


Our Lady of the Way:


One of many crosses on trees around the shrine:


The end of the ravine trail:

Along the path:








Heading to Mass through the main entrance of the shrine:


Stopping for a moment of prayer:




Seven Sorrows of Our Lady:


A reminder of the shrine's importance in Catholic history:


Our group with Bishop Hubbard after Mass: