Clear Sight

Go before us with heavenly light, O Lord, always and everywhere, that we may perceive with clear sight and revere with true affection the mystery in which you have willed us to participate.

– Prayer after Communion, Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord

Like Christmas, the feast of the Epiphany comes at a time when New England's seasonal darkness and the activity of various holidays can enhance one's desire for light and peace. For my community, it comes at the end of our winter vacation; tonight we begin a three-day retreat to renew our devotion to religious life and its particular Jesuit expression before starting a new round of classes with our fellow Boston College students on January 12.

The foreign visitors who came to Jerusalem, led by the unexpected appearance of a brilliant star, were perhaps shocked at their hosts' confusion and alarm. Did they not recognize the wondrous sign in their midst? The wise men, undoubtedly content with their riches, their wisdom, and their prominent standing in their own country, abandoned these sources of security to follow a celestial portent. Upon reaching their unknown destination, they humbled themselves before a greater wealth, a deeper truth, and a more enduring power. After encountering God before them in a most humbling and unexpected way, they eventually returned home, not only by a different route, but also as changed people.

As I was greeting families after Mass this morning, one of the many young children in attendance made a break for the altar. Within a few moments, he was crawling toward the manger scene, pointing at the infant Jesus nestled in the company of Mary and Joseph, shepherds, the three wise men (recently arrived from their earlier position in the back of the church), and an assortment of animals and angels. His mother and aunt followed closely, but gave him plenty of freedom to wander around, point excitedly, and gaze at the scene before him. We couldn't tell what he was saying– or whether it was in English or in Spanish, for that matter– but we could tell that he was captivated by something, and wanted us to share in his wonder and amazement.

As our community gathers anew after our Christmas travels, I'm delighted to recognize us renewing the tangible mystery of our fraternal bonds. Jesuits from distant countries who moved into my small community of ten back in August have transformed my experience of belonging to a religious order that is global in scope but profoundly local in practice. Living here in Boston, with these nine brothers within a larger community of eighty, has drawn me to devote an increasing share of my gifts, my time, and my devotion to the life that we share as we study, cook, pray, laugh, and relax together, day in and day out. They are the ones who remind me of my commitment, encourage me to go out to friends and neighbors with enthusiastic friendship and service, and share my joys and struggles as I accompany them in theirs. My dear brothers may have come from the other side of the world, and will surely return there in the future, just as I expect to journey onward from Boston after completing my studies. Yet none of us will leave here as the men who arrived, and I can already envision myself feeling very much at home with them in their countries should I ever be fortunate to journey there.

The heavenly light of God is sorely needed in our world, where darknesses both profound and subtle filter into the radiance of human lives, the natural environment, and various societies and cultures. Fortunately, it's already present in all of those places and people. The Epiphany message depicts that light as a guide to our journeys, a promise of encounter with God, and an assurance of our truest hopes and dreams. We've been invited into the mystery; let's be sure to take (and share) a good look.

No Transition, Plenty of Change

"Make Way for Ducklings" sculpture
Boston Public Garden, Boston MA

In my first true waking hours of 2015 (after a good night's sleep that began not long after midnight), it occurred to me that I'm poised to spend this entire year as I spent the past one: assigned to graduate studies at Boston College. My ten years as a Jesuit have featured plenty of transitions: between various assignments, from one city to another, and through distinct phases of formation. Although I traveled extensively throughout the United States this past summer during a 50-day odyssey that brought me to a dozen towns and cities for at least 24 hours each, throughout the calendar year I received my mail in the Brighton neighborhood and legitimately carried and used a Boston College student ID. That couldn't be said of 2013; I left a wonderful grant-writing job at Holy Cross and moved 50 miles east to hit the books after a four-year stretch of full-time work. 2011 saw me switch jobs, and 2009 featured a graduation, a move from St. Louis to Worcester, and my first cross-country Amtrak pilgrimage. (My second one took up 15 of this summer's 50 days on the road.) For the first time since the stretch from January 2007 to December 2008, I can safely anticipate doing the same thing in the same place for two consecutive years; in reality, I expect my present period of theology studies to keep me in Boston through December 2016, if not May 2017.

Transitions have always offered me timely opportunities to learn and to grow in the course of taking on a new job, moving to a new city, and getting settled in a new Jesuit community. They've also served as clear markers inviting reflection on the past, taking stock of successes and setbacks, while also drawing my attention toward the unknown future, encouraging me to develop goals, envision hopes, and welcome whatever blessings and challenges I might encounter in a new environment. Taking on my first "real job" at age 27 involved a significant learning curve, the shift from master's degree student to middle-school teacher being but one of many trails on that steep climb. Leaving that post to assume one in higher education at age 29, feeling as inexperienced in the latter as I felt inadequate in the former, turned out to inaugurate breakthroughs in self-knowledge, professional capability, and genuine happiness and fulfillment that sustain me to this day. Transitions have not always been easy or expected, but when they've come, they've come with a clear message: time for a change!

In this context, as I look back on 2014, one of its great lessons to me is that change doesn't depend upon transition. The year had an abundance of stability, a blessing for which my delight in routine makes me quite grateful, yet it was far from static. Recalling the state of my mind, heart, and soul in January 2014 in light of who I am as the first day of 2015 draws to a close, the changes I perceive are astounding. I became deeply committed to serious study of theology as a crucial labor for my formation and preparation for ordained ministry... not just as someone who's well versed in the teachings and traditions of the Church, but as someone who knows, firsthand, the importance of having that foundation from which to enter into genuine, inviting, and open-minded dialogue with the issues, controversies, and most importantly, the people of today's world. I beheld the vitality of this fine city and its people as I ran from Hopkinton to Copley Square on Patriots' Day, as one million people cheered the runners, family members, public safety personnel, volunteers, and fellow citizens who breathed new life into the Boston Marathon on a glorious Easter Monday. I felt that same spirit reveal its turmoil as it joined other cities and their people in protests and questions of racial justice and civic trust during the fall and early winter after the deaths of unarmed African-American men and the deaths of police officers on duty, all felled by bullets on city streets. I labored to grasp– in mind, heart, and soul– the meaning of divine love expressed in our humanity, from the mystery of Jesus' birth to the wondrous intricacy of deep friendships, whether long-standing or dazzlingly new.

Where to go from here? In truth, nowhere. Boston is my home, this Jesuit community is my family, my friends and relatives around the corner and across the country are a network of outstanding support, and a group of remarkable individuals. I will soon begin another semester that promises an abundance of articles and conversations from which to learn. The changes set in motion within me throughout 2014 bear a momentum whose exertions will surely continue in the days, weeks, and months to come. I don't need a transition... just the ability to keep a hand on the wheel, an eye on the road, and my whole being focused on the journey and those who accompany me in it. There's plenty of change, adventure, and progress waiting... and so much of it can be found right here. There's nowhere else I'd rather be.

Beacon Hill, Boston MA