Winter Essays 2025

We do not need to know any more about ingratitude than not wanting it as an attitude for ourselves and not liking to see it manifested in anyone else. Our strong preference is for living gratefully for all that we receive, have, and are as beloved children of God. Even naming the other possibility is unpleasant as a consideration, but it serves as a caution to take none of the good in life for granted, and to give thanks as much as we can.

One of the surest antidotes to the misery of thinking about all the disasters and potentially worse consequences of some of the present movements in our world is not to deny whatever is real, but to stay close to true causes for gratitude that are present in, with, and around us wherever we are. Whatever afflicts us, and especially whatever we think may befall us, cannot help but enter consciousness. But we are under no obligation to retain those thoughts, especially since they elicit negative feelings that can lead to further injury-causing thoughts leading in the direction of ingratitude. “No,” we tell ourselves, “There is more to my life than this.” From there, we can deliberately call to mind some experiences of love, whether received or given, that affirm the goodness which founds our lives.

If we reflect on our human capabilities, one of the most significant is that of gratitude. A “thank you” is such an easy and almost universally welcome gift to offer that we might not recognize that it is a powerful force for good that we can exercise freely whenever we choose to do so. We did not acquire this capacity by taking an academic course or paying a license fee. Rather, we knew at a very early age that we could be grateful and were likely encouraged to thank people for even small expressions of kindness. We are still learning from experience how to expand occasions for expressing gratitude according to our unique personalities.

We can be grateful for much in life without directing our thanks to anyone, but we gain much satisfaction for ourselves, besides blessing others, whenever we direct our thanks to people for gifts received, including especially the spiritual goods of friendship, respect, care, and all other forms and manifestations of love. Thanking God for not only direct personal blessings, but also for all that we perceive of the ongoing creation of everything that exists, also satisfies us, for we are thereby exercising our graced capacity for gratitude. Our likeness to God becomes visible whenever we acknowledge goodness wherever and whenever we recognize it.

Gratitude is a response to love, which is the purpose of our lives.

Airports are a relatively recent location for arrivals, since terminals for ships, trains, and busses had listed arrivals for many years before air travel became common. By now, we might have become so accustomed to comings at expected times that we become frustrated when a plane is delayed, or someone comes late to a meeting. Arrivals for us are almost always in terms of specific minutes, and are only rarely open to occurrences within days, weeks, or even months. Imagine, if you can, those who looked for the arrival of the One who was spoken of in the Hebrew prophecies, when there were no clocks or precise measures of time. Becoming frustrated would have been as useless then as it is for us now, who expect almost all arrivals to be at a designated time.

Unlike frustration which exhibits a flawed belief that things should take place when we want rather than whenever they do happen, anticipation is a much more pleasing movement. Most of us have learned from experience to anticipate with joy the arrival of persons we love, even when the timing is not as we had hoped or wanted. This is the proper attitude for the Liturgical season of Advent, the approximately 4 weeks prior to the celebration of Christ’s birth at “Christ Mass,” which has been abbreviated to “Christmas.”

Children are often encouraged to anticipate the arrival of the many family, social, and faith aspects of Christmas, and they can become somewhat impatient. However, they usually retain their positive hopefulness of good things that are to come. We cannot go back to being children, but we have the capability of choosing an attitude of hope and expectation of future good. Sometimes we can do this on our own, while at other times, especially when we find it difficult to imagine how things can turn out for the better, we manage quite well by turning directly to the One whose arrival is celebrated at Christmas.

We might anticipate with pleasure, usually for only a short time, our birthday and anniversary celebrations and those of relatives and friends. These, like Christmas, occur on specific dates. The season of Advent is much longer, not primarily because the birth of Jesus is by comparison of far greater significance than our annual events, but to encourage and allow for much more than a birthday celebration. The season is presented as a series of gifts that keep on giving, as we reflect on some of the mysteries of God’s faithful and abiding love for us in fulfilling old promises and initiating new ways of relating with us in our present circumstances.

Enjoy the season of Advent, one day at a time, and savor the mysteries of faith that become meaningful and supportive as we reflect on them.

If we think about it, there can be no life that is not real. So, the expression, “real life,” would seem to be a redundancy. For us, there is nothing more real than being alive. However, when we refer to specific persons as having died and being numbered among the dead, we also think of them as real, because we implicitly accept that they are alive within a reality transcending this life, one that includes us as well.

Some could rightly say that this is a statement of faith, but it is more than a religious doctrine. We have an innate sense of life and reality as being tied together in a manner that extends beyond the evidence we can obtain through our senses. However, we also understand intuitively that people who are visibly and actively alive can be so fully involved in behavior destructive of others, and to have so fully repudiated their own spiritual essence, that they do not seem to have a life. 

Rather than being merely a logical redundancy, “real life” makes sense if we engage freely with the mysterious aspect of our lives where they are seen as a gift of God and as a participation in the very being of God. We did not have anything to do with being chosen by God to exist and to be thereby related with God directly as beloved creatures. However, we make free decisions in response to the unique environment and circumstances of our lives. We know well that our behavior is not pre-programed, nor do we find evidence that any aspect of our lives has been decided for us beforehand. God freely creates us, but we choose whether we will even believe that, and we decide whether to accept that we are more than simply what we think and do.   

Sometimes we might hear or even make comments to the effect that some people who are not earning their living are not participating in “real life.” No matter what we might say to distinguish between earning a living and being provided for by others, both are realities, no matter how different one way of living is from the other. The more important issue is how we respond to our present situation, whatever it might be. Doing so with love rather than selfishness is to be fully alive, whether we are rejoicing or grieving, actively participating in or passively accepting the pleasant and the unpleasant experiences that are a part of our lives. 

Real life is about all our ordinary decisions to love.

The concept that we are free to do anything we want is significantly different from the thought that nothing in this world can keep us from the love of God. We can freely choose to do things that are good for us and for others or we can cause harm, but there is nothing that has the power to prevent us from receiving God’s love or from being loving persons.

A paradox of our freedom is that although we can choose to give our attention to anything, including impulsive ideas, but only some of the options available are truly worthy of our notice or personal involvement. Everything that exists participates in the goodness of God, but the way we relate with some thoughts, material beings, and actions direct us away from love, which is the ultimate good for which we are created and that truly satisfies the desires of our hearts.

We do not have the capability of deciding to make a purely selfish act into something that is good for us or for anyone else. Our freedom, rather than a radical power to choose anything we happen to want, is a precious gift that requires at least as much vigilance and care as does the most financially valuable possession we have. Anything that proves an obstacle to love of God and others is to be avoided. Rather than limiting our freedom, the choice to turn aside from anything contrary to conscience enables us to see more clearly the options for love that will fulfill us.

We can likely recall an incident when we had an impulse to exercise our freedom by choosing a specific action that satisfied an immediate impulse but left us not only unsatisfied but also disappointed in ourselves. We had the freedom to make that decision, but when we did, the vision of our minds and hearts was a little darkened as to our purpose in life. If we learned from the experience, and responded differently at the next similar situation, we might recall not just that we felt better with the consequences but also that we found ourselves with an expanded sense of our freedom: we were more firmly convinced that we did not want to be pushed into action by mere surface attractions and impulses. We learned that such uses of our freedom to choose diminished our freedom to be the kinds of persons we truly want to be.

Freedom is most realistically the freedom to love, not just to do anything that might appeal to us. When we freely open ourselves to God’s love, we become freer to love God, people, and everything God creates.

We might imagine an infant gazing back at a parent leaning over and saying, “I see you.” Contained in such a few words are a bundle of meanings, from a simple statement of fact, through an expression of intense feelings of love, to even providing words for the infant’s use someday in the future to accompany the gaze that so entrances its parent. We might say, “I see you,” to let someone know that we are aware of their presence, but we might also intend a much deeper meaning, perceiving the movements in their hearts that they have not communicated in words. When we are fully present while relating with others, we have a wonderous capability of including insightful and powerful messages in a few words that bear far more meaning than those that even the best of dictionaries can provide.

For someone trying to remain hidden, or attempting to prevent anyone from perceiving their intentions, “I see you” is not what they want to hear, but it might be a truth that they need to face. Most of us, who are going about our lives trying to do whatever we believe to be right and good, being recognized is supportive and consoling. “I see you” comes as an expression of respect and perhaps admiration as well. Whether we say this to one another or not, the interior disposition of one person fully attending to another can be one of the most significant gifts we bring to an interaction. When we “see” others and are not focused on anything that we might gain, our attitude is that of our care for them, an aspect of love that is real and present.

The Christmas story is about an infant in a crib. A best practice for us is to meet the child’s gaze, and allow ourselves to receive “I see you,” as a true expression from Emanuel, God with us. We are welcome to reply spontaneously with whatever is in our hearts, but receiving those words from Jesus first, acknowledges that he has the primary role in our relationship of love. Letting that gaze and those words enter our minds and hearts enables us to go about the Christmas Season ready to see Christ in all those we encounter, friends, family, and many others, perhaps looking at us with at least some of that gaze of the infant, and we, in turn, looking at them with an implicit “I see you.” 

We call the first of January “New Year’s Day,” acknowledging the celebrations taking place all around the world. While it is reasonable to call the year “new” since it is just beginning, we can question whether it is a serious cause for celebration. We do not always publicly welcome everything just because it is new. And there is nothing intrinsic to the beginning of a new year that benefits us or will bring joy to our hearts. Rather, if we consider what we are doing, our observance of the new year is about gratitude for all the good that we experienced in the year just ended and hope for a better future.

A truly holistic New Year’s celebration includes the two complementary movements, both deeply spiritual, of gratitude and hope. We know that the movement of a clock or the marking of a date in a calendar does not cause any substantial change. Instead, we give meaning to symbols and symbolic actions that readily convey to one another significant interior movements that are worthy of celebration. The more conscious we become of what we intend, the more suitable will be the ways we celebrate the new year.

Because we are social, we might participate in some traditional rituals that are widely practiced. We might also decide to take time that does not necessarily coincide precisely with clocks and calendars to engage more fully with the gratitude and hope that will fill needs in us that no amount of external celebration can deliver.

For all the sayings about the problems of the “old” year, we can find many causes for gratitude and thankfulness in both “the good times and the bad,” for God was with us in all of them. We might choose to reflect and pray about this on our own, and we can join a religious or non-religious gathering of people who together respond to the human need for recalling from the past some of those positive and learning experiences that we want to carry within us into the new year.

Hope does not cost anything, but it is extremely valuable and not at all to be taken for granted in a world where there is more profit for presenters of negative information and opinions than there is for those who witness to the truth of how love is the essential good and limitless movement within us that empowers and guides whatever we say and do. There is no need to seek proof that there is cause for hope, because it is a gift that accompanies acceptance of God’s love for us that is absolute and unfailing in all circumstances.

Every day of the year offers new opportunities for gratitude and hope for those open to the love of God.

Two Latin words together give us the basic meaning of “provide,” which is to “see ahead.” In addition, we have “providers,” people who foresee and act from such knowledge, and “providence,” which moves us into spiritual and transcendent aspects of helpfulness. All meanings are positive, although humans can use any word in a negative manner. Few of us believe that we can avoid difficulties through imagining all future possibilities, or that we would want to be providers only for ourselves or that providence is like a game of chance rather than helpful inspirations coming from sure knowledge of what is ahead.

Focusing primarily on good possible meanings has positive consequences. One kind of thinking suggests that life is a balance between good and bad, and that we need to be realistic by giving equal attention to both. However, staying with our reflection, we choose the truly powerful effectiveness of aiming always for the good and the better, without denying the realities of suffering, pain, and loss. With such a practical guide for looking ahead, we are enabled to see that life is our primary value, not power, control, or any other quality that might seem desirable.

It makes a very practical difference whether we look ahead with trust to seek and find whatever is helpful rather than to hold back because we imagine that we should only respond directly to immediate circumstances or that any other way of proceeding would be a waste of time and energy. For us to provide whatever will be good or better relates directly with providence. That is, we rely not simply on our powers of reasoning, but also on the power of love in which we are held. For example, we listen carefully to those whose care for us and we trust them when they relate from their experiences about what might lie ahead. But, to a far greater extent, we can trust the love of God who not only knows everything, but also, without imposing, gently places helpful options within our minds which we are free to accept or ignore.

We cannot “see” into the future with anything like the clarity of our present situation, but we can provide ourselves with knowledge of, and reflections on, past experiences that relate with the present, and we can place ourselves consciously into a disposition for receiving inspirations. One of the best ways we have of providing for the future is not by having the best possible insurance policies but by relying on God’s love to “see ahead” for us. Then, we act on those inspirational movements in our minds and hearts that reveal their source as God because they are accompanied by a sense of peace and of being right.

We chose to be good providers of whatever is good.

The primary dictionary meaning for “baptize” is not that of a religious ceremony of initiation, but to immerse. That is why, although we rarely would use it this way, it would be correct to say that someone is baptized in medical studies or in a relationship. Familiar as baptism is, most of us understand it as a public recognition of a way of life that would ideally be immersive, affecting everything in the baptized person’s life, whether it takes place as a ritual of literal immersion or only by the pouring of water.

While immersion is temporary, the effects of baptism are ongoing, for some in a conscious manner, for others primarily through the local community of family and their circle of belief and support, or for still others, solely in the larger reality in which we are all immersed: God. That is, the immersion of baptism is not just into water, nor only into a community of faith, but also into the person of God. The consequences, if we reflect on them, are not simply passive, like the ripples that continue after a rock is dropped into a pond, but more like an ongoing chain reaction that continues to grow in its power and effects.

Although it is easy to think about those who freely choose baptismal immersion as those who will more certainly make continual choices matching their knowledge and experiences of God than those who, as infants or small children, are baptized by immersion or the pouring of water. However, if we reflect on the variety of people we know, we will likely discover that, whether baptized as adult or child, by immersion or otherwise, individuals without one or more supportive faith communities are less likely to grow and mature “in wisdom, age, and grace” than those who do. The chain reaction of growing and expanding immersion in the love of God and neighbor usually includes significant relationships with others who share the same orientation, especially when some of them have very different backgrounds and religious experiences through which they become immersed in the love of neighbor which can be understood as an implicit love of God.

Those of us who are comfortable believing that we are immersed in God, who is love, are very likely also accepting of the positive and negative aspects of being part of a community of faith. Though differing widely in our understanding and our practices, we find in our experience that the benefits transcend our individual and collective faults and failings. Believing that God loves us in our generosity as well as our selfishness, provides us with a logical acceptance of the human kindness and contrariness of those with whom we share whatever we believe to be our baptismal immersion.

No matter how we might imagine it for ourselves, being immersed in God involves immersion in human society.

Interiorly, many of us have heard words such as “Say this,” or something similarly brief and directive, or we might very well have had thoughts of such clarity that we acted on what came to our minds immediately after that moment. It was not as if we had been given exact quotations to pronounce, but instead, it was like being told by a kind and loving authority to do something, and we did it in our own way. Such occurrences are more common among us than we might have thought.

Words flow through our minds quite regularly, sometimes as if we are telling ourselves what to do or are commenting on whatever we observe. At other times our minds wander, as when disconnected ideas, and words from songs with no apparent connection with whatever we are doing, pass through our minds. There are also occasions when words, or internal responses as if to clearly spoken words, come into our minds. Without questioning the source, since they are within us and contain the same veracity as when we tell ourselves what to do, we act according to them. Often, it is only later if we reflect on the experiences, that we become aware of how the impulses were given to us as surely as if someone we know had spoken to us or otherwise clearly indicated a specific course of action which we then took without questioning.

In our reflections on these experiences, it is valuable to recall the positive consequences of having responded to them as we did. Trust grows if we see how well things turn out whenever we follow through on the words or their substituting impulses that have come to us as both authoritative and supportive. The effect is very much like that of freely doing whatever a trusted and competent coach or leader tells us to do. However, we would not do without question whatever someone would urge upon us if it was outside their area of competence or, if there was apparent self-interest on the part of that person, or if our sense was that of being pushed rather than of receiving an impulse that both mind and heart confirmed as appropriately ours to enact.

Whether we attribute these beneficial interior movements to God or to some other source, the inspired words or impulses are almost always quite brief, without explanation, but lovingly insistent. If, for example, we received something like “Say this,” we were able to speak our own unprepared words with an assurance and conviction that surprised us. It was as though someone had said to look in our pocket, and we had found a small treasure there.

If we take a little time to review some of our past experiences for episodes such as these, we will have good reasons to expect that more will likely be given to us, and that we will be doing well to follow through with “Say this.”

If we run, we usually run to some destination or situation, or we run from some location or some kind of event. Alternatively, we could just run, not towards or away from anyone or anything, but only for the pleasure of running. We also use the word, “run,” for internal movements of intention, as when someone runs from controversy, or someone else runs to anything new and interesting. “Run” has an urgency about it, where speed or intensity is implied.

Although someone could run to prayer when the need is especially great, or because of having received many consolations, graces, or insights. However, it is not a good practice to run in prayer. That is, no matter how pressing the concern might be that we bring with us into prayer, we cannot rush our interaction with God any more than we can reduce anxiety over a crisis of some kind by blurting out everything to a dear friend or family member. God might not verbally tell us to “slow down and tell me what is happening” as would someone to whom we expressed our troubled situation in a jumble of words, but the unspoken invitation is always there: “You can trust me with anything, but focus on what you are thinking and feeling, sharing with me your present state of mind and heart so I can help you.”

If we walk with someone, we can still converse quite meaningfully. When we run, we need to concentrate on running and cannot share deep thoughts nor much of what we might be feeling. Similarly, we can literally walk and pray in direct contact, doing so in an unhurried way, whether in words or without them, but if we are running, prayer is usually limited to at most a general awareness of God’s presence.

When we run in our prayer, our anxious thoughts and even our rapid breathing will inhibit our ability to perceive how we are being heard or understood and will prevent us from recognizing thoughts and inspirations that bring peace and consolation. If we were running for exercise with a companion, and either of us needed to share something significant, we would slow down, at least to a walk, or, if the matter was quite serious, we would probably stop completely and face each other. This is a good model for what to do if, in a time of great anxiety or confusion, we want to bring our concern to God: slow down or stop.

In simple practical terms, the quickest way to stop internal running, or at least bring a slowdown to racing and jumbled thoughts, is to consciously breathe deeply, deliberately, and slowly. After a relatively short time, we will have slowed down enough to calm our spirits, having provided at least a more humane environment where God can address our concerns in the way that will be best for us. We will be able to communicate whatever affects us, and receive the graces and benefits of God’s loving, healing presence.

When people begin a sentence with “ordinarily,” we do not expect to learn anything new at that point. Rather, we wait for a second part, which is likely to reveal something exceptional, note-worthy or at least interesting about the speaker’s or writer’s subject. We anticipate that a comparison will be made between whatever has been normative and something different and unaccustomed. Ordinarily, we have a habitual way of beginning each day but will make an exception for a good reason. Similarly, we do things one way with which we have become comfortable, but sometimes, whether in response to changed circumstances or because we have received a new insight, we try something new.

We might wonder whether God ordinarily acts one way and makes differently at other times. Exploring this idea, we can reflect on our image of God and perhaps affirm the way we think about God or discover that we need to modify our understanding of who God is or what God is like.

There is often a difference between how we think and talk about God, and our experience of relating with God. Some people talk about God as a kind of disciplinarian, attributing setbacks they receive as personal instructional actions by God, but all their direct experiences of God have been merciful, calming, supportive, and often accompanied by an awareness of a loving presence. Blaming God is a quite common reaction among those who think that hurtful things should not happen, but holding such a concept does not bring any sense of true contact with God. It might well be a futile attempt to avoid pain through mental activity, whereas coming directly to God with one’s suffering allows for experiences of perceived care, understanding, and compassion. The way we might think God acts may not correspond with what happens when we relate with God, especially in prayer.

Ordinarily, we relate with others without any thought of how we are influenced by our image of God. However, if we reflect on, for example, how we respond to people whose behavior seems inappropriate or even wrong from our perspective, we will almost certainly speak or act judgmentally if we carry within us an unconscious notion that God is a judge. Whereas if our own behavior towards them is one of kindness, our image is very likely that of God, lover of all he creates. 

Since we do not ordinarily directly choose our belief about who God is, and only learn about it through reflection on our behavior towards others and in how we relate with God in prayer, any change that might occur will very strongly be impacted by our practices of faith. For some, when reading and reflecting on Scripture, especially the Gospels, God is revealed to individuals who do so. In like manner, any faith-sharing group or religious service, if the members reflect on their experience, opens them to who God is for them.

There is nothing ordinary about the infinite unfailing love of God who is Love. 

If we are involved with a banquet, whether as an invited guest or as an organizer, we appreciate the difference between an event for which there is a fee, and one that is not. Any banquet might be welcome if we have a purpose for participating. Otherwise, we would probably look for a way to avoid attending without causing any unwanted consequences.

For Christians certainly, but for many people who have hope that this life is followed by another that will be far better, the metaphor of a banquet works very well. It evokes thoughts of a celebration where all those present are united in care for one another. Such a banquet is not seen as exclusionary, for the invitees are those who would like to be in such a communion of persons. There would be no fees, of course, but more importantly, there would be no cultural or social expectations that in this life make for some difficult decisions about whether to attend. 

If we reflect on the image of such a banquet, and let our imaginations guide us, we might find, for example, that it would be more like a small dinner with close friends. Not that we would be the one to carefully choose those who would be invited, since we did not set up this meal, but the feeling of closeness and good will might be more perceptible as we image such a dinner. Someone else might imagine a candlelight supper, with glasses of fine wine. Again, we would not need to choose the wines, for they would be selected for us as precisely the ones that would lead to conviviality for all those who are present. Still others might delight in the image of a banquet, imagining a huge gathering where yet everyone knows and loves everyone else.

This last image, without diminishing the interests and feelings evoked by the others, opens us to still further possibilities for reflecting on the long-held expression of “heavenly banquet” and similar names for whatever we might hope or believe is possible as a follow-up to this life. At a truly enjoyable banquet in this life, the food and drink are secondary to the celebratory conversations and exchanges that take place among those who are present. When it is over, we might remember for a short while whatever we ate and drank, but the bonds of friendship and love that we shared remain, and we ourselves have grown and changed for the better because of such exchanges.

In this way, we can readily imagine that an “eternal banquet” does not mean continually sitting at table with the same group of people, but an everlasting communion of persons in which love is the food and drink for a joyful celebration that does not end.

God invites us to trust/believe that we are invited, not compelled, to come to such a banquet.

In homes where sliced bread is always available, or even rolls or other individual portions, “Please pass the bread” means to pass a plate or basket so others make take for themselves whatever they want. Even at tables where there is unsliced bread, it is often placed on a board with a knife so that those who wish can cut off as much as they like. Bread is shared but it is not the same experience as when one person literally breaks bread and hands a piece to someone. The physical gesture of handing to another a portion of food is very meaningful. We consider “hands-on experiences” to be significant and this is one example.

Although we are accustomed to making financial transactions online or by credit card, there are still occasions when we hand money to someone. The cash value of such exchanges is no different between electronic transfers and physically handing the currency to another, but the value of the human interaction is, however slight, an additional reality. We could, for example, imagine one person passing a generous amount of currency to someone as a gift and being able to see the spontaneous response in the other person’s face. If we were to hand over payment of a lost wager on a game, the occasion might contain both humor and a bit of discomfort, but it is a fully human transfer of something more than cash.

Most of us do not consider bread to be any more than a complement to a meal and not at all an essential. As a prayer, “Give us this day our daily bread” is usually seen as a metaphor for whatever is truly essential for life. Food is certainly a requisite, but so are spiritual gifts of love, trust, and hope. Without these, life would be tenuous and unsustainable. However, when we pray “The Lord’s Prayer,” we can be mindful of those who, not just in the past when bread was the dominant staple food item but today have bread as their principle daily ration. Bread has been known as the “staff of life” in the world for a very long time and still is in many places.

The sharing of bread appears in many Gospel stories, where it is handed from one person to another. The most profound of the various “breaking bread” passages are those describing how Jesus, at his last supper in this life, used not only the handing of bread one to another but also eating it, as the living memorial of himself for all who participate in the Eucharist.

Even if we consider bread at table as only an optional side dish, we do well to consider how God can make use of the apparently inconsequential act of the handing and eating of bread as a beautifully mysterious way to gift us with his life-giving presence.