A beautiful place to receive terrible news

I was in Mobile, AL with 11 SLU students over spring break. While there, we learned that all SLU classes would be moved online as the global pandemic shut down cities, states, and nations. It was a beautiful place to receive terrible news. 

with SLU students, on a break in Mobile AL

I was helping to lead a group of 11 SLU students on an immersion trip to a L’Arche community. L’Arche is a faith-based home for people with disabilities– physical, mental, and Down Syndrome. We had a great group. These kids are giving up their spring break to learn, grow, and serve. In the South, things move a little slower. We had an easy pace that included time for meals, prayere, games, and interacting with L’Arche members. On Tuesday evening, we got the first email from SLU. The corona virus was upgraded to a global pandemic by the WHO; all classes would now be online; and students needed to move out of their residence halls after spring break.

There were tears, hugs, anxious phone calls to parents, and frantic changes in travel plans.  

Amidst all of this there was an overwhelming feeling of grace. The L’Arche community in Mobile continued their day-to-day activities of meals, prayers, and art projects, as they planned ahead for this scary new reality. Our SLU group continued to listen, cook, clean, and learn. Our nightly reflections went deeper and longer as the week went on. Prayer and discussion provided a center of peace amidst the gathering storm of the pandemic.

It was a beautiful place to receive terrible news. My love and admiration for our students only increased over the week. These are bright, generous, caring young adults. They weren’t on vacation, but immersing themselves in a community of persons with disabilities. They set aside their break to learn, pray, and serve. In a time of crisis, our students reached out to support each other, their families, and L’Arche. We were all upset and confused. And, in faith, they moved outward in love. Not hoarding, but giving. Men and women for others, not for themselves. I’m grateful for the beauty of our students; they responded to terrible news with faith, hope, and love.

posted April 29, https://werememberslu.wordpress.com/2020/04/29/immersion-and-grace/

St. Ignatius, pizza and jokes: How I minister to college students

I am a campus minister at my alma mater, Saint Louis University, a Jesuit school. My time at S.L.U. helped me to develop a deeper, more mature relationship with Christ. I am trying to help college students do the same.

[originally published in America Magazine, March 3]

Toasting marshmallows and roasting each other after 9pm Mass outside Spring Hall at SLU, in Oct, 2019. L-R, Jack, Caroline, and Anna. Photo by Sean.

In 2000, I entered the Jesuit novitiate. I had many positive encounters with Jesuits at S.L.U. I took courses from older Jesuits on human nature and postmodern philosophy. I also worked with young Jesuits on retreats and service projects. At other times, we just chatted over lunch or coffee on campus. They were like big brothers to me: smart, fun and generous. I have stayed friends with many of these men; and now I am a Jesuit, too.

On a cool Wednesday night in October, I am hosting Taste of Ignatius. Over five weeks, I guide students through several meditations from the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola. We look at the examen, gratitude and the “First Principle and Foundation.” Around 10 to 15 students show up on an average week. Some come once. Some never miss. There are freshmen and seniors, Catholic, Christian, other and “not sure.” A Hindu student brings a buddy…

[full article here: https://www.americamagazine.org/faith/2020/02/21/st-ignatius-pizza-and-jokes-how-i-minister-college-students]

"Listen to the Migrants' Cries:" Pope Francis' Prayer Intention for February

Knock knock

“Who’s there?”

This is a familiar format for a children’s riddle. You knock, I ask, you reply.

It’s based on a simple action– someone knocks on my door and I ask, “Who is it?”

Is this a stranger? A friend? A criminal? Who is knocking?

We’re right to be curious. And it’s ok to ask questions. But should we automatically be suspicious? What if this is a friend, or someone who needs my help?

This February, Pope Francis asks us to hear the cries of migrants. After all, we shouldn’t bolt the door until we know who is knocking, right? He writes, “Every stranger who knocks at our door is an opportunity for an encounter with Jesus Christ, who identifies with the welcomed and rejected strangers of every age” (Pope Francis, Message for the 2018 World Day of Migrants and Refugees).

After the birth of Jesus, Mary and Joseph fled to Egypt with their child. They escape from King Herod who searches for the child “to destroy him” [Matt 2:13]. After this danger passes, the Holy Family returns to their homeland. They were refugees only temporarily. Perhaps they knocked on an unfamiliar door seeking shelter. Imagine Joseph offering to work in exchange for food and housing. Knock knock. “Who’s there?

Modern migration is a complex issue. A humane response requires compassion, wisdom, and cooperation from citizens, churches, police, and government leaders. If we shut our ears and lock the doors of our hearts, then we will never hear the cries of the poor seeking protection and opportunity. Jesus says, “I was a stranger and you welcomed me.”

Who is knocking at our door? How will we respond?

A prayer— for migrants, and to open hearts to migrants:

Lord Jesus, you traveled a hard and lonely road with Mary and Joseph.
As a child, they carried you to a foreign land to escape the wrath of Herod.
Lord, may we see you present in the migrants and refugees who knock at the doors of our nation.
Open our ears to hear the cry of the poor, the weak, the weary and wounded, the children and newborns and tiny babies still in the womb!
Open our hearts! Give us hearts like Your Sacred Heart– large, and warm and welcoming.
Lord, even if we cannot welcome everyone, help us to welcome someone– even one child, one family in need.
Holy Family, help us to pray and work for justice and mercy in a broken world.
Amen.

originally posted here:

http://popesprayerusa.net/2020/01/27/february-reflection-fr-joseph-laramie-listen-migrants-cries/

http://popesprayerusa.net/2020/01/30/prayer-month-february-2020/

The Cathedral vs Planned Parenthood: a beautiful home vs an ugly prison

I love this Cathedral. I live and work at SLU, so I am close by. Sometimes I’ll stop in here for a few minutes while I am running errands, or going to the grocery store. I love to pray here in this Cathedral. It’s also fun to people watch here. You’ll see homeless guys coming in to sit, get some cool air. Also tourists-- a family from Iowa may be in town to see a Cardinals game. They wander in, all wearing red Cardinals shirts, and they are walking around looking up. They’re confused and amazed. They see saints, angels, colors, beauty, Jesus and Mary. When you walk into this church, your heart is lifted up by the glory of God. The foundation of this Cathedral is Christ; and here the Holy Spirit lifts our minds and hearts to praise the Father’s glory.

[homily, originally delivered Saturday, July 21, 2018 at monthly Pro-Life Mass, Cathedral Basilica, St Louis MO. A rosary prayer procession to Planned Parenthood followed Mass]

Cathedral Basilica, St Louis MO

I’ll contrast this Cathedral with the place where we are all processing after Mass today-- Planned Parenthood. It’s not far away. I drive past that place regularly, too. That building is tall, painted, cement. I’m not sure what color it is-- beige? Faded gray? It looks like the skin of a really sick person. That building is designed to fade into the background. On a dark and rainy day, it just vanishes into the gray. The architect does not want you to notice it. He does not want you to think about what happens inside there. It is something very gruesome, very ugly. Abortions happen inside there. There are a few narrow windows at the very top. It’s like a fortress. I have never been inside there, but I can’t imagine it is a cheerful place to be. No natural light. Beige, painted cement.

It’s not a fair fight, it is? The Cathedral vs Planned Parenthood. That is a fortress built on a foundation of lies, of fear, of hopelessness. For all their talk about ‘choice’ and ‘freedom,’ they are basically telling women, “You have no choice. This is your only option. No one will help you. For a few hundred bucks in cash we can fix your problem. It’s just glob of cells anyway.” These are lies; they are evil lies. These lies prey on the fears of women who feel alone and afraid. That abortion brings death to her child. It’s the worst choice she’ll ever make.

This Cathedral a place of truth, love, and light. Jesus is the way, the truth and the life. He gives us life. He came that we might have life. The eternal Son of God was born as a baby boy; He is the Son of Mary. She holds him, kisses Him, loves him, and shares Him with us. Jesus comes to us in the Eucharist at every Mass. He gives us His Body and Blood that we might have life and have it more abundantly.

We are here at the Cathedral in prayer this morning. We will walk to Planned Parenthood in prayerful, peaceful witness. We want to reach out to every woman who walks up to that ugly building. We love her. We are praying for her. We are here to help her. She might feel alone; she feels like she has no choice. Today, on that sidewalk, grandmothers will be praying together next to young girls; they want to hug this young woman in her time of need. I see many religious sisters here at Mass this morning. Thank you, Sisters, for your beautiful witness. Thank you for sharing your life and love. These Sisters are the spiritual mothers and spiritual sisters of the Church. They are here for this woman in her time of need. To love her and welcome her. We are here today to say, “We want to help. We can help you find resources, real options. Food, medical care, child care, adoption. You have options. We are here for you! We care! Don’t listen to those lies. You don’t have to choose abortion.” We pray that she doesn’t walk into that sickly gray fortress to make the worst choice she will ever make-- choosing abortion, the death of her child.

And even if she does, we still love her. We are still here for her. Jesus reaches out in love and mercy. There is no sin we can commit that God cannot forgive. Project Rachel and other organizations offer healing and reconciliation to women who have experienced the terrible act of abortion. So often these women feel pressured by boyfriends and even parents. In Project Rachel, the ministers are women. Many of these women have themselves been through the terrible tragedy of abortion; in Christ they find strength, renewal and forgiveness. Through Project Rachel they become apostles of Life, reaching out a healing hand to other women. Jesus is life; He comes to bring us mercy, to raise us up to new life in Him.

In the Gospel today, we hear the words, “Behold, my servant whom I have chosen, my beloved in whom I delight.” Jesus is the Beloved Son of the Father. Jesus fulfills what is written in Isaiah. “Behold, my beloved in whom I delight;” the Father speaks these words to Jesus at His Baptism and again at the Transfiguration. In Him, we, too, are beloved sons and daughters of the Father. Today, we say to these women that they, too, are beloved daughters-- their dignity is real, powerful, beautiful. Their tiny babies, their boys and girls, are beloved sons and daughters of the Father. God will help them; we will help them to choose life. The truth of Christ shines light into the darkness and uncovers the lies of abortion.

That big ugly fortress is built on a foundation of lies-- it is built on sand. The Holy Spirit is the glorious wind and mighty water that erodes and washes away that cheap and shoddy foundation. The Spirit works through our prayers and actions, our love, our peaceful witness-- until that awful prison collapses into under the weight of its lies and violence. The Holy Spirit works slowly and powerfully; the Spirit works through us, today. Choose life. Protect life. Defend life. Jesus is the way, the truth and the life.

Why didn't Roe V. Wade happen in May!?

I was waiting at a bus stop a couple of nights ago, here in DC. Underfoot, I’m crunching a mix of salt and black ice. I can see my breath. I’ve got on four coats; basically what I bring to DC for this event is: a rain coat, a winter coat, a light jacket and a toothbrush. That pretty much covers what you need for the time here. And I’m waiting at this bus stop, impatiently, wondering, “Why couldn’t Roe V. Wade happen in May!?”

January 2012, March for Life, Washington DC

[homily given January 2012, Washington DC, at the ‘Jesuit Schools for Life’ Mass at Gonzaga High School chapel, on the morning of the annual March for Life, as chaplain for Boston College student group]

  All those cherry blossoms would be glowing! We could try to organize a “pro-life night” at a baseball game here in town. You could wear your pro-life t-shirt… instead of having it buried under a parka, and a hoodie, and maybe a sleeping bag. But then, maybe January is the perfect time to be here.  We’re here for no other reason than to witness to life. Why would you come to Washington DC in January except for this event?

my niece, in her 2nd trimester. she is now in grade school

You might think of the black ice, the parkas as a kind of merit badge. We could have a merit badge for 9+ hours on a bus (cf. 2 Cor 11:23-28). A merit badge for sleeping on a gym floor for more than 2 nights. Also, when the guy next to you is snoring and you don’t get any sleep for those 2 nights. But not just a merit badge, with a boy scout style sash—more than that.

We are sharing in the mission of Christ. We walk with Christ. We’re called [Is 49:1] by Christ to be here, through our Jesuit schools, through the mission of the Church. We’re called to be here with Christ. With Him, to stand up for the unborn. To stand out in defense of pregnant women—especially those who are young, afraid, poor, who feel all alone. We are with them in the cold—in the freezing sleet we might see later today.

   This is the heart of our Jesuit mission, the mission of our schools. How can we serve the poor if we abort them before they are born into this world? How can we stand up for the rights of those on the margins of society, for immigrants, how can we serve them if they are not alive? If the weakest among them are not allowed to breathe the fresh air of our free land?

We’re here with joy. I love how the Jesuit school fight songs get retro-fitted for this event: “Hey blue, hey white, hey team, pro-life!” You see the Franciscans with their shaggy beards bouncing around outside, the Jesuit schools singing their fight songs, the Jesuits with their trimmed beards in the style of St Ignatius and St Francis Xavier.

This is a matter of life and death (Deut 30:15). This is the premier social justice, human rights issue of our time. And we are right in the heart of it today, here, now, thanks be to God. We are in the middle of things and we are here with great joy. Christ’s mission was one of life and death—the salvation of the human race (John 3:16-17), nothing less. Christ did not live a sort of dreary life, dragging his feet, quaking under the burden of his labors. Yes, he suffered, yes he carried his cross, but Christ’s mission is one of great joy.

  See him in the Gospel drawing these little children to himself (Matt 18:1-5): five-year-olds, two-year-olds,  six-month-olds. Holding them in his arms; talking to his friends, talking to us about the beauty and goodness of human life (John 10:10). That’s why he came! That’s why we are here to walk with him. To stand up for those who don’t have a voice. To show these young women they are not alone. We love these young women and their babies. It’s ridiculous to separate them. If you love one, you love the other; that’s why we’re here.

We’re blessed today to have with us some of the Sisters of Life. They are in the middle of things in a way I can only marvel at. They resurrect the dead. That’s what they do. Women considering abortion see a sister, or perhaps call one through their hotline and find a word of hope, a word of warmth and encouragement. Women who have been through an abortion can find the Sisters of Life, and can come back to life. Women who feel that they have destroyed everything that is important to them, that there is no hope for them anymore—they find out that’s not true. Our God is one who saves (John 3:17), one who forgives, one who raised the dead back to life (John 11:44). Then He turns them into apostles of life, so that other women don’t make the same choice they did.

Brothers and sisters, we are in the heart of things. Yes, it is cold, but we are warm with Christ. As we pack together, march together, singing our fight songs together for life-- we stay warm together because we are with the Lord today. We are here in joy; yes, it is a time of sorrow, yes a time of injustice, but we are here with hope, brothers and sisters. We are here because we love the Lord, he loves us, and we want to share that love with others-- drawing them into His hope and justice.

I am honored and proud to be a Jesuit on this day in particular. I’m proud to be with you. I’m proud to be with many of my Jesuit brothers who were able to make it here today. We’re blessed by the Sisters of Life, by some of the Dominican Sisters who were able to make it today-- in their mission of teaching and spreading the faith.

We’re here for Life (John 10:10), however long it takes (cf. Phil 2:17). This is my 8th March. How many more is it going to take? Eight more? Twenty more? Whatever it takes, we’re here with the Lord. You might bring your children to this March a few years from now. Young man, there in the back: you might be sitting up here [in presider’s chair] a few years from now. Young woman from Boston College: you might be with the Sisters a few years from now, keeping your ears warm with that veil, a few years from now.

We are here for Life, however long it takes. We are with the Lord. We are here in faith and in hope, and we come here to this altar to be fed with the Lord’s own Body and Blood (Matt 26:26), keeping us warm, that we may spread his love to those we meet. Thanks be to God, brothers and sisters. Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

A deadly crash on the Feast of the Assumption

The car flipped over 10 times. Maybe 15. I woke up to steel smashing against cement, over and over, over and over. Glass shattered and flew in my face and hair. The sun peeked out from the grey horizon—upside down, then right-side up. The car landed on its hood with a final, ugly crunch. I had my shoes off in the back seat…

full text here: https://www.americamagazine.org/faith/2019/08/15/deadly-crash-feast-assumption

originally posted at America Magazine