When I really struggle with negative self talk, I know that something deeper is going on. I imagine our psyche a bit like a tree. If we really believe something deep down, then we see fruits appear on the top, even if we do not see the roots. In this way, our sins also reflect deep down our broken and often poisoned roots, and we recognize the Christian struggle as a process of not just pruning harmful fruits (sins), but also of purifying and cultivating the tree. Alas, we are planted in God’s garden, and as he cares for us and gives us his Eucharist and forgives our sins in Confession, the tree is replanted and the roots kept healthy. And so I come to Advent.

As many know, I am a natural melancholy, which means I am basically the human equivalent (in nature, mind you) to the “Eeyore” character in “Winnie-the-Pooh.” I naturally see the world and all half-filled glasses as half-empty. While I know all struggle with negative thoughts and self-accusations, I happen to know that melancholies tend to struggle even more than most. Therefore, I wish to give some insight on how to battle the recurring fruits of negative self-talk amongst other discouraging and sometimes disordered thought patterns. First of all, I should note that I have never found the “cheer up” mentality helpful (although some do). I personally see this as a “virtue” of the world which values self-will and power, as if true joy can just come from positive thinking. In my experience (and in the experience of the Church, it seems), this is backwards; “cheer up” is a conclusion, not a starting point. We cheer up because of something, not simply because we force our thoughts to think about positive things. Joy follows from being satisfied, and we know that deep down we cannot fulfill our own desires. Only God can do that.

So what gets at the roots? What causes the Christian to cheer up in the deep way? Jesus says that the “Truth will set you free” (Jn 8:32), and so I can only respond to these questions with the truth. When I am down, I reflect on the true things, not just “positive things.” I know that the Eucharist is real because of miracles, I know that Jesus died and rose because disciples witnessed him and gave their lives for it, and I know that therefore I am in God’s awesome Providence and under his purposes. Reflecting on the truths of the faith do set us free because they reground our roots to start making good fruits. Instead of a bunch of positive thinking like “I can do it!” or “I’m awesome” or “I can do anything my mind is set to;” I think like the Church: “I am a work in progress,” “I am a beloved son, but not yet perfect,” “I am an unprofitable servant that God thinks a great deal of.” These sorts of reflections and prayers force us to practice the virtue of faith which helps us to see God and his world correctly. This Advent, go to the roots and put some truth there. We tend to answer our self-talk with cheap dopamine that just alleviates the bad fruit we’ve been making; phones, screens, foods, distractions, forcing positivity. Instead, we can battle it with the chapel and his truth that sets us free.

Lately, I have been meditating on the newly baptized of the early first century Church. According to the Acts of the Apostles, “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of the bread and to prayer” (2:42). I think each of these four things deserve a little exposition as well as credit for how we have been attempting to establish successful ministries lately. In fact, if you may feel disconnected from the Church, adding some of these to your spiritual life might make a big difference to your connection to Christ.

Firstly, the early disciples devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, or in other words, true doctrine. We have to know God, and this is what we will do in heaven forever. We will know just as we are known (Cf. 1 Cor 13:12). Heaven is primarily union with God, and our prayer and study should direct us to think as Christ and his Church thinks. Ignorance of God is ignorance of that which matters most. Therefore, we need to study, and I recommend having Scripture, a novel, or anything to read by the bedside to learn about God and his creation.

The disciples also devoted themselves to “the fellowship.” A lot of Catholics feel lonely. There is a reason I get a lot of pizza for kids; I think God made us eat so that we would actually slow down and talk to each other about important things. Successful ministries not only teach true things about God, but they also teach people true relationships. So, if you are struggling in the faith right now, this is a common area to explore. Connect with someone at Mass, invite them over, or invite someone who could use fellowship.

The “breaking of the bread” is the third area, and it is the most obvious. Early Catholics went to Mass. In the US, only around 25% of Catholics attend Mass every Sunday. If you are reading this, chances are, you are in that 25%, and I wonder what percentage of our attention is for God on Sundays. I will be the first to admit, even as a priest, being physically present is not enough. Unless I prepare for Mass spiritually beforehand, read the readings even if I am not
preaching, turn off the noises beforehand, Mass can be difficult to pay attention and pray. Catholics who are connected to God are Catholics all about the Mass.

Lastly, the disciples devoted themselves to “the prayer.” It is not just prayer, but “the” prayer that is important. We can’t just piously think about God or do God’s work or just show up to Mass. Meditative and contemplative prayer is essential to connecting with God. It’s hard, but it works. Rosaries, scripture readings, Eucharistic adoration: all of these things and more force us to meditate, which forces our minds to stay close to God. Otherwise, we would just get in the habit of thinking about whatever we want to think about, and that often leads not to God.

As someone who has studied languages for several years, I often reflect on language. It is powerful. It can turn abortions into “terminations” and it can ease the consciences of Nazis who “liquidated” the undesirables. Language has hurt more people than sticks and stones, and now, as we know, it is being lauded about for personal preferences in the use of pronouns. Some policies in organizations now push the agendas that allow people to choose their own pronouns regardless of biological sex. I know it is a delicate issue. Nevertheless, it needs to be talked about.
 
This is a difficult area to navigate, but here are some pointers for all Catholics using language in any context. We are to speak the truth and bring people to the truth in love. In difficult circumstances, apologists recommend using a person’s name (or an endearing nickname) instead of pronouns when that person insists on using other pronouns, even though it is annoying. Remember that all are made in the image of God, and worthy of respect and love, but this does not give anyone license to control language. It is always helpful to see the logic in something by bringing it to the extreme. If someone had the right to demand to be called, “great prince,” or “piece of garbage,” or some obscene word as a pronoun, we would rightly recoil: people do not have the right to demand to be called such things which do not reflect who and what they are, for language reflects reality. Affirming what someone incorrectly thinks of themselves violates charity. Both flexibility and boundaries are necessary for unconditional love.
 
To those in these difficult situations, pray for wisdom and discernment especially if the pronoun situation involves someone in your family. Such situations are very delicate, and often it can probably feel like the choice of pronouns is the decision between losing a relationship forever and obeying one’s conscience and loyalty to God. The duty to the truth, however, remains the same. We cannot love others without the truth, and we cannot give truth without love. Use wisdom and love, and certainly rely upon the Holy Spirit who is our advocate.
 
For those who want a more detailed pastoral treatment of this topic, I recommend Archbishop Paul Coakley’s pastoral letter, “On the Unity of the Body and Soul: Accompanying Those Experiencing Gender Dysphoria."

“Father, I have lost faith” or “I just don’t know about God anymore” are the typical phrases I hear from so many: it is a common ailment, and many seek out their priest to heal them. What I have found so fascinating, however, is not the fact that we seek   counsel in these doubts, but rather that we humans typically fall into two categories with spiritual struggles. Both can look very similar on the outside, and even felt  similarly interiorly, but they are fundamentally different ways of being isolated and discouraged about God.                                              

The first group is the most obvious as to the cause of  discouragement. People often “lose God” by starving. Upon investigation, it is no wonder that people are experiencing spiritual isolation:  sin, lack of prayer, not going to Mass, no works of charity. This group is analogous to a man who starves to death in a full food pantry: he merely needs to open a can of soup and cook to eat. He does not even need to make a complicated recipe; but instead he slowly starves by distracting himself with other things that never feed him. Spiritual hunger is far easier to dismiss than physical hunger, and it is by far the easiest isolation from God to fall into. The life of sin and spiritual laziness naturally leads to doubts and struggles in the spiritual life regardless of life circumstances. A starving person when confronted with the great evils of this world easily sees God as someone to blame and abandon rather than someone to rely upon and draw strength from. God’s mercy in Confession and the firm resolve to practice virtue is the remedy to this group.                      

The second group is a bit more subtle when it comes to discouragement. Many find themselves in the position of following God’s commands very well, but struggling immensely with loneliness and feelings of “losing God.” Whereas the first group lost God by refusing to eat, this group can “lose” God by not feeling filled. Really, this is called “desolation” and it is a common spiritual occurrence, especially amongst the most spiritually mature. Famously, Mother Teresa    experienced this dryness for decades when she was doing her ministry to the poor. God, in his wisdom, allows himself not to be felt in an abundant way to purify us. Here, we must be reminded of a desert. Sometimes, in our journey, we are nourished by the oasis, but other times it is dry.                                          

The remedy here is the wisdom from St. Ignatius of Loyola with his Fifth Rule: “In time of desolation, never make a change; but to be firm and constant in the resolutions and determination in which one was the day preceding such desolation.” For those in this group, be encouraged that desolation is never permanent. Following God comes with immense crosses and sometimes deserts; but that never means we should stop following him.

If Catholicism is true, that means a lot of other stuff is false. Relativism is the belief that there is no truth, as if Catholicism, Buddhism, Protestantism, Wicca, and any other religion were equal because different people prefer them. The problem with this belief is the existence of the martyrs: if all religions were equally valid, then why would anyone choose one that demanded hardship?  Why would anyone die for their faith if there were easier faiths? Indeed, such questions clearly show that relativism is insane. Our preference for something does not make something true. Either Jesus rose from the dead or he did not. Either the Eucharist is Jesus or not. Either Jesus is the one true God or he is not. Either abortion is evil or it is not. Catholicism never chose these doctrines because people liked them; it chose them because they are true. 

Relativism is a great ailment, “the spiritual poverty of our time,” as Pope Francis has said. It gets its support from the promise of promoting harmony, as if everyone will get along better if everyone is somehow “right.” But what ends up happening is that everyone is just equally wrong: there are no morals and no truths. Vague religion and spirituality essentially means whatever anyone wants it to mean, and that frequently translates to some individual thinking himself more enlightened than thousands of martyrs and deep spiritual thinkers who lived and died under the commands and unique lordship of Christ. We tend to not do this leap of self-faith with science and other things that are complicated, but when it comes to the delicate eternal realities of the soul, many are surprisingly ready to jump. 

Online, I see this relativistic sentiment most prevalent online cleverly disguised: “Religion is a guy in a church thinking about fishing. Relationship is a guy out fishing thinking about God.” The problem with this saying is that it assumes religion is not a relationship. Couples understand this: there are rules to love. A man cannot just love a woman how he wants, but how she wants, and vice versa. Chores need to be done, bills are paid, and diapers need to be changed. If selfish passions just dominated the day, there would be no house to live in! The same is true with God, and there are rules to love, and it is “Thy will be done.” Hell is “my will be done” and it is lonely. Therefore, when helping people struggling with relativism, we must communicate that loving God is on his terms, not ours. Religion is a relationship, and relationships are not simply about preference, but they are about “Thy will be done.”

Five years into my seminary experience, I was asked to take an extra year to work on some things in my life. Specifically, I was starting to have trouble with some relationships, my interior joy was not abundant. Being told to  take an extra year was rather devastating, but now I see it as one of the most beautiful things that had ever happened to me.

 What I found that year was the joy I had always searched for, and it came through interior healing. Here, I want to point out a common experience in the interior life: often those who pursue holiness seriously will suddenly reach a block, and the only way forward is backward. It is like going to a hotel without a key card; you simply cannot rest in your room until you go back to the reception desk and retrieve a key. So it was with my spiritual life and everything about me; I had to go to my past in order to go forward with my life in the present. I had a lot about my childhood that I never really looked at; there was a lot in me that never grew up. Thus began the counseling, spiritual direction, intense prayer, meetings with priest advisors, and plenty of reflection. It was exactly what I needed.

I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder in Kindergarten, and early elementary school was difficult for me for years, or at least the social part of school. Relationships were extremely difficult because I was so impulsive, and I frequented the naughty bench for recess. My life really took a turn for the better, though, when the continuous love of my Catholic teachers and family finally broke through to me such that I could see goodness in myself. But it was those difficult and painful years before this that I had really pushed away from my memory. That was the Steven I never wanted to think about, but it was the Steven I needed to accept. It was the key card to go forward in my life.

If you want joy in your life, then go back. Painful memories need to be processed and sanctified by the power of Jesus in prayer. So much of our lives we can hide from pain when it needs to be faced and redeemed. Jesus did this to the child in me just as He did for the child in the gospel. He goes into the house of the child we thought dead, but He declares the child is sleeping (Mark 5:39). Then he puts away all distractions to enter that room, takes the child’s hand and says, “Talitha koum!” And the child comes back to life! And that child is hungry once again, perhaps more than physically. The child is spiritually again hungry for communion and joy and all the other things we did not know we hungered for. Allow the Lord to reach out to the dead pains in your past so that He can raise you to life.
 
PS—A great book is Be Healed by Bob Shuchts (Ave Maria Press, 2014). ISBN: ‎978-1594714764

For the past week, and continuing until July, the Eucharistic Pilgrimage has been occurring throughout the United States. Four different corners of the United States hosted the sending off sites to meet in Indianapolis, and as many remember, the Twin Cities pilgrimage came through La Crosse and Wisconsin Rapids last week. Jesus, in the most holy Eucharist, processed across the Jackson Street bridge in the special pilgrimage vehicle and then carried to Sts. Peter and Paul on Sunday for a holy hour. 

Here are some thoughts from a parish priest on the entire ordeal, which I pray may feed some prayer and reflection. The Eucharist is processing to the “core” of the United States, or at least somewhat, that is the center or heart of the country. Here I am reminded of the Latin word for “heart,” which is “cor.” The “core” of the United States needs the heart of Jesus. Right now, the United States is a comatose giant in need of heart surgery. She is like the Tin Man, metallic and in desperate need of a heart. Our pews are beginning to follow the footsteps of fallen
away Catholic mother Europe whose churches are becoming coffee shops, her neighborhoods are ever more Muslim, her cities atheist. So what is missing? Why are families gone? It is simple, the Eucharist. A Catholic’s serious religious observance is directly proportional to belief in the Eucharist. If the Eucharist is just a piece of bread, then the pew is another piece of wood. But if that host is God, then the pew is an encounter with the living God. 

As Americans, we can be rather tin
man, empty inside. We can be fickle about religion and the things that really matter. But Catholicism is absolutely true. Period. If we waver on the importance of Catholicism and the Eucharist, so will our children for the next generation. When we say missing Mass is okay to accommodate some sport, sleeping in, or family time, we are essentially telling them that God is not Lord. The Eucharist needs to be our core as Catholics. Eucharistic devotion is not something just for those Catholics at the Marian Center, nor is it just something for Sunday. Sunday Mass is the minimum, and things can survive on the minimum, but they do not live well. We might survive a time without a heart, but living is another matter. Therefore, during this Eucharistic Pilgrimage, I highly encourage you to increase your devotion to the Eucharist. Get at the heart, literally, of Catholicism, the heart of Jesus in the Eucharist.

There are thousands of reasons to leave the Catholic Church, but there is only one reason to stay away, namely, not knowing Jesus in the Eucharist. I have heard so many. “Father, I don’t
go anymore because the Church is so judgy,” but there is only one judgment that matters, from the silence of the tabernacle in every church. “Father, I get nothing out of Church,” but we go
not for something, but for Someone. “Father, I was hurt,” but there is only one Person that can heal you, and only one Medicine. In all of our lives, Catholic religious observance is most difficult when belief in the Eucharist wavers; for if everyone really knew and believed in the power of the Eucharist, Sunday observance would be easy.



Now, a temptation can arise in us Catholics to win over converts. “Father, we just need to make Mass more exciting and relevant, and then people will come,” but it is a lie; for people may come, but they never stay. People come for shows, but they only stay for Jesus. What people need is more Jesus, not more entertainment. For each of the thousands of reasons to leave the
Catholic Church, there are equally thousands of reasons to come, but there is only one Reason to stay in the Catholic Church. It is the Eucharist. How did the early Christians make converts? They preached the gospel of Jesus Christ who died and rose. People who accepted this message were baptized and then brought to the “breaking of the bread” which is the early name
for Mass (Acts 2:4142). Why did people stay then? It was the conviction of the dying and rising of Jesus, and this is precisely what the Mass is: it is the saving sacrifice and resurrection of Jesus shared with us.



For us, then, on the battlefield of potential converts and family members who have fallen away. What are we missing for those empty seats in Church? How do we get them back? Listen closely to people’s excuses, not what they say, but rather why they say it. The reason hiding beneath can be guilt, worldliness, hatred, fear, rationalization, and we know that the answer is the Eucharist at Mass, but the pewless often do not know. What they need is someone to really listen and accompany them to the pew. They need someone like John to stand with them by the Cross. Preaching the dying and rising of Jesus is not a oneoff thing. Think of the years that your parents walked you to Church and slowly fed you the mysteries of the Eucharist. Paul wrote letters for years, and Jesus taught people how to pray for three years. Bring someone to the adoration chapel, teach them about the death and resurrection of Jesus which occurs at every sacrament.



This Pentecost, ask the Holy Spirit to give you the words to convict people of the gospel message, pure and raw of Jesus dying and rising, of Jesus in the Eucharist.

The Bible is very clear that God does not think like us. He would leave ninety-nine sheep to seek for one lost one, and he would forgive abominable deeds. He even allowed his Son to die upon a cross. In short, God thinks about things in ways that do not fit into our normal human way of thinking. We are, as it were, far too efficient compared to God’s way of thinking. Most of us, perhaps, if we were in God’s shoes and with his power, would simply snap our fingers to bring back the lost sheep, or we would just prevent or fix the sin at hand. For salvation, we would probably find another way to save the world without a violent death upon a cross.
 
Now this sort of reflection is necessary to understand that terrifying question about our good God allowing us to suffer: no answer will be adequate to our merely human way of thinking. God is not a being like us, and to ask why of the ultimate Why is asking something that will not make sense. It is like a walrus asking us why we eat with forks; the walrus cannot even begin to fathom what a fork does, and such concepts are so beyond his capacity of reason. Yet, although the “forks” of God might elude us, we “walruses” at least know something about eating; we can have an insight into what God really values. And God values a relationship with us more than anything. Suffering makes us weak, and weakness makes us ask for his help. Children understand this; they are content with being weak and being reserved to the fact that they simply need help. When they are hungry, they do not start wondering about how forks work, they simply cry and trust that someone will feed them. Their weakness makes them reliant upon others. Suffering draws us out of ourselves, and so it is a great mystery of encounter with God, especially since his most recognized image is him upon the cross.
 
Again, our minds might be tempted in our old walrus-way of thinking to simply go back to tusks and fishing: couldn’t God just make an easier way to know him without suffering? Perhaps this is what Peter was thinking when he suggested to our Lord that he forgo the cross. We tend to view suffering as a place of separation from God, as undignified, and as something to be avoided. But God makes suffering a place of encounter. He embraces the cross, and he brings himself into all of the suffering that continually afflicts us, from our loneliness to our physical sufferings.
 
And so the answer to our suffering and any suffering that any of us may be experiencing now. Let it draw us upward, that is, toward God. Weakness is the vehicle of the Christian spirit. God made the cross dignified, and so suffering is now god-like and beautiful, and we need not be ashamed of it. It should bring us to a disposition of needing his companionship and the companionship of others, and thus we should be drawn closer to God. Jesus, after all, is found upon the cross, and so that is where we will find God.
 
“My power is made perfect in weakness” — 2 Cor 12:9

Alas, that question. There are numerous iterations of this question as I have heard it over some years, and here is a sampling of other ways of asking it: “I feel more fed by the songs and sermons down the road, can’t I just go there?”; “Aren’t other religions easier and more positive than Catholicism, why not leave?”; “What’s the big deal? Everyone finds God in their own way.” In all of these questions, the problem is not the answer, but rather the question. Any Catholic, by asking it, has missed fundamentally the reason for religion.  Religion is not a matter of preference like choosing Subway over Pizza Hut. Religion is not a consumer good, and we are not junkies who choose the place that we like best; as St. Paul says, “The kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness” (Rom 14:17). Righteousness, or “being right” with God, that is right-relationship with God is the goal of religion. Now, if “being right” with God is the goal, that means there must be some ways of “being wrong” with God. In other words, not all religions make us “right” with God.
 
There are some obvious examples of “being wrong” with God. Some religions of the ancient world thought it pious to sacrifice children, and some extremists (even some Christians) use acts of terror to glorify God. These are   obviously wrong and despicable to God; they use explicit evils. But what of the more subtle cases as in our original question with Protestantism?  Lutherans do not sacrifice children like the pagans, and Baptists have many of the same beliefs as Catholics. So what makes the difference that Catholicism is the way to “be right” with God?  What claim do Catholics have that Protestants do not?
 
People claim to me often that all the Christian religions are essentially the same (which is hilarious because I am a priest who has staked his entire life on Catholicism being the right one). But they are not the same: in fact, they rarely agree on the fundamentals for being “right” with God.    Abortion, for example, is wrong, but somehow many Christian denominations accept it. Is this simply not fundamental? What about Jesus being present in the Eucharist, or sexual morality, or any other differences in religion?  Who gets to decide what is important and “right” to God?  Here we find the greatest difference between Catholics and Protestants, and really the greatest argument for Catholicism being   correct: Authority. Protestants claim authority from the Scriptures, but who interprets the Scriptures?  There are thousands of interpretations of Scriptures each with their own corresponding Protestant church and morals.  There is one Catholic Church, albeit with its sinners, but with an  unchanging authority over what is important to God. The job of the bishops (who carry on the teaching authority of the Apostles) is to safeguard the doctrine and moral teachings that have been handed onto them with an unchanging   doctrine about the Truth. Catholicism has never been about our preference, it is about what is right. Be right before God.