Written On Our Hearts

Savior 8 Hotels and Celestial Signs Promotions present the Gaudette Sunday Main Eternalweight Event. Introducing to you first the Challenger, standing to my left, wearing the secular sapphire trunks weighing in at nine letters, three vowels with a record of zero souls satisfied the world’s best imitator of bliss…Happiness. His opponent in opposite corner, wearing the victorious violet shorts, weighing in at three letters, one vowel with a record of over 2000 years satisfying souls your everlasting Eternalweight champion of the universe…Joy. I’ll admit, I definitely got a bit carried away with that boxing-style introduction channeling my inner Rocky Balboa (but it is a right I possess as a Philadelphia native). Putting Rocky and the sport of boxing aside for just a moment, it is truth that Joy is greater than Happiness. So let’s take a look as to why. We’ve been seeing all the signs of the secular celebration of the “holidays” for about six weeks now. The ads we see on TV and commercia

“ It is better to be a kingmaker than king ” is one of my dad’s favorite sayings. There is a lot of wisdom in that statement if we can understand what my dad means by being a “kingmaker.” He doesn’t use the terms in the traditional sense meaning someone who is owed something for helping someone rise to power. His definition of “kingmaker” is a trusted servant of the king who aids and supports the king’s mission and message. His proximity and special relationship with the king stems ultimately because of his strong belief in the causes of the king. Because of the special closeness that this “kingmaker” shares with the king, he can use the authority granted to him by the king to advance the causes of the kingdom. The “kingmaker” as a loyal servant and aid, does not seek to increase his own renown, rather, he speaks on behalf of the king to further advance the king’s mission and plan for the kingdom. Because of this the king alone receives the praise and can shield his “kingmaker” from a

I’ve known since I was in first grade that my stay in purgatory will probably be quite long (and I believe my reservation at the Suffering Suites hotel is getting longer day by day, but never mind that for now). As I remember, the earliest series of serious and repeated offenses that sent me toward the temporal timeout corner was not doing my Monkey Business in first grade. Yes, you read that correctly, Monkey Business. You’d think that any first grader who successfully avoided monkey business would have a golden ticket to heaven, except that my first grade teacher Mrs. Gerwig cleverly used this deceptive term to mean classwork. And who has time for doing Monkey Business when one is already knee deep in…what is the term I am looking for…oh that’s it…monkey business. But no matter how one dressed up doing school work (even hanging a vine across the chalkboard with monkey’s swinging from it holding worksheets) I never liked it, let alone did much of it in first grade. Instead I was c

I was sitting on a tepid bleacher at Polhman Field in Beloit, Wisconsin on the evening of September 8th, the feast of the birth of the Blessed Virgin Mary, watching a Beloit Snappers playoff game. To be honest, although I’d been to Mass earlier in the day, I was paying closer attention to the foul balls than I was to the action of the Holy Spirit. At least, I was until the Snapper’s Left Fielder, Ryan Mathews, was introduced by the PA Announcer. As Ryan made his way from the on-deck circle to the batters box, Jeremy Camp’s song “My God” blared over the speaker system; not just for his first at bat but for all of them. To put it mildly, I was shocked. I listen to a lot of popular contemporary Christian music; but the last place I expect to hear it is as the intro music for a professional baseball player. After all, that short clip of music for baseball players is supposed to pump up both the player and the crowd, not worship God. Some songs, like Trevor Hoffman’s theme song “Hell’s Be

It was always around this time of year that my mom would take us back to school shopping, dedicating one whole day each to myself, my brother and my sister. She would take us on a grand excursion to various malls, office supply shops and department stores so we could get everything we needed, from notebooks to new shoes, and start the year on a positive note. Finally, we always capped off our special day with a dinner for two at a restaurant of our choosing. I have many silly and fun memories from our back to school shopping adventures. My favorite story has to be the seventh grade “toe service” experience. Mom and I both walked away stunned and giggling at the Nordstrom’s sales associate, who not only measured my shoe size personally and found that I had two different sized feet, but then went in the back and actually brought me the same shoe in two different sizes! However, it was her dedication to make sure that my first steps in my mismatched hush puppies were second to none by s

Just over a month ago I underwent open heart surgery, it was the third heart surgery I’ve had and hopefully the last one I’ll need. My previous surgeries happened before I turned two years old, so needless to say I don’t remember them. The scars left by the operations I had as an infant represented parental worry stemming from profound love of me; their first born child, deep concern from family and friends, impeccable skill and care from healthcare professionals and abundant prayers lifted up in my name. Intellectually, that knowledge about my first two surgeries was sewn into my heart; it has always been a part of who I am as a rather unique child of God. Certainly, their results impacted my life. I suffered a stroke that weakened my left side because of one of the many different procedures I had in the first two years of my life and had some learning disabilities growing up, but the physical pain and suffering of heart surgery was not part of my childhood or adolescence. In a stran

In a pivotal moment during the stop motion animated film Santa Claus is Coming to Town, the humbled and seemingly defeated Winter Warlock exclaims, “ I really am a mean and despicable creature at heart you know. It is so difficult to really change .” Kris Kringle’s reaction to that comment is a hearty laugh and the reply, “ Difficult? Why look here, changing from bad to good is as easy as taking your first step .” Then he breaks out in song, singing the children’s Christmas classic Put One Foot In Front Of The Other. As you watch Kringle prance around the enchanted forest emboldening penguins, reindeer and the icy Warlock to change, you can’t help but be nostalgically inspired. Yes, it only took 3 minutes and a little Christmas magic to convert the entire forest, not too bad for a day’s work at the North Pole.  While on the screen this conversion seems to happen instantly, the lyrics and message of Put One Foot In Front Of The Other seem to be saying something completely different -

It was a hot Chicago summer day four years ago. I was at Navy Pier deciding what to do. My friends had just left on a four-hour Segway tour of the city that I was unable to accompany them on because of some physical limitations that I have. I had some time to kill, but even if you are alone it isn’t hard to entertain yourself in downtown Chicago. There was music blaring from the “Beer Garden” stage, an IMAX theater and the Billy Goat Tavern. My friends would be back before I knew it. As I made my way down the pier looking for something that was going to strike my fancy, I remembered that I had never seen Holy Name Cathedral. With four hours to kill I decided that I’d walk to it and check it out because when I visit a city I like to see two landmarks – the Baseball Stadium and the Cathedral; I’m not quite sure why, I just like to see both. I’d been to Wrigley Field the night before but Holy Name Cathedral remained on my list. I pulled my Chicago navigation guide up on my iPod touch as

From the moment, his cleats crossed over the foul line on April 15, 1947 Jackie Robinson was verbally assaulted and targeted maliciously by fastballs. Racist managers taunted him, his teammates shunned him and opposing players regularly attempted to injure him. Although he was belittled, bruised and I’m sure close to the breaking point countless times throughout his historic baseball career; he not only managed to have a career batting average of .311, win a Rookie of the Year Award, a MVP award and a World Series (stats courtesy of www.baseballreference.com ) but he opened the door for men of all colors and from all corners of the earth to play in the Major Leagues. Jackie accomplished all this because he was courageously meek. He fought racism, bigotry and hatred with a bat and glove; not words or fists. Jackie robbed his critics and opponents of their perceived supremacy over him by stealing bases, not by slandering them in return. The results were not instantaneous and it certai

Last year on Palm Sunday I attended Mass at my parish, St. Francis de Sales. At that time we had the privilege of having as our Pastor then “Bishop-elect” David Malloy. A few short weeks later, He became the Bishop of Rockford, but on Palm Sunday last year he was standing in the back of our church blessing the palm branches before the entrance procession wearing a zucchetto and pectoral cross. Certainly, I recognized the symbolism of the zucchetto as the crown of thorns signifying a bishop’s special closeness and participation in the Sacrifice of Christ as a successor of the Apostles. However, it was not His election to the Apostolic ranks or the privilege  of seeing a “Bishop-elect” celebrate Mass that stood out the most. After the entrance procession, before the opening collect, Bishop Malloy made a comment that has stuck with me. He said “ think about what we have just done, for a moment we gave God perfect and pure praise - God is pleased ;” Mass then continued normally with no oth

One of my favorite contemporary Christian worship songs to meditate upon is Worlds Apart  by Jars of Clay. It speaks to our unconquerable struggle with sin and despite our best human efforts to live a life of grace we still come up miserably short. The message of this song is particularly pertinent to reflect upon during Lent, helping us remember that without a savior we will be left “ broken and on [our] knees .” We find ourselves overwhelmed by our sin often and it “ takes all [we are] to believe in a mercy that covers [us] .” By admitting that “ what [we] need (or sins that Satan has deceived us into believing that we need to remain happy) and what [we] believe are worlds apart ” enables the Savior to fill the chasm in our hearts with His mercy, forgiveness and love. As St. Catherine of Siena would point out in her Dialogue, Jesus is the bridge, by which our soul must walk across to access heaven, there is no other way; no alternative path. Furthermore, she states, that this br

The erosion of “absolute truth” in American society is a growing problem. For the past few weeks, I have been reflecting upon this in the wake of a bold statement made by President Obama during his second inauguration address. He said that we must not “ mistake absolutism for principle .” On the surface, this might seem like a benign or even acceptable statement to Americans. It’s not. Those four words from our president suggest that we should reject absolutes. Furthermore, he is alluding that the principles (beliefs which beckon action) by which you choose to live your life should not affect that of others. It’s like you deciding to call the color “ red ” by a new name “ green ” just because that is the “ personal principle ” by which you’d like to live your life. Moreover, it is beyond ridiculous to think that it is not going to affect your relationship with others. An example: We are walking through a garden on a spring day and I mention to you how nice the green leaves look. In res