A friend once told me: “Expectations are resentments under construction.”
At eighteen, I studied theology and philosophy at the University of San Diego. After graduation I still wasn’t ready to join the seminary. So, I bounced over to Boston and earned a Master of Divinity. It’s there I first met the Society of Jesus. Even so, I was still hesitant to take the dive. So, I skipped back to San Diego and began a two-year stint as a hospital chaplain. And this is just the beginning of my vocation story! Take a moment to read more and maybe uncover – or perhaps rediscover – your own journey of God’s call for you.
As I write this post, my absentee ballot is sitting next to me, still blank. There are Catholics who say the choice is simple. There is only one issue that matters. But the stories I heard suggest it is more complicated.
It happened when I served as a Eucharistic minister at a large suburban hospital over five years ago. When I walked into his room, he looked like anybody’s grandpa. I can still see him lying there: a 90-some-year-old man with smallish frame nestled into the middle of the recliner bed, a tuft of white hair atop a wrinkled but happy-go-lucky face, the flimsy-knit, standard issue hospital blanket pulled up just under his chin. Read as Christopher Alt, S.J. reflects on the Eucharist and our everyday life.
Inspired by Pope Francis’ call to conversion, community-building, and creativity, I thought why not create a retreat and make it virtual for those who might also be feeling just as cooped up and restless as me. So, that’s what I and several other Jesuits with whom I live have done. And you can participate in the retreat too!
Join us for an interactive art retreat, presented by Christopher Alt, SJ.
If the spiritual life is learning to wake up, or to see, even, this would imply a gradual process. Confusion, anxiety, disorientation, and grief are not excluded from the Easter experience.
One of the great images of Lent is Jesus being driven into the desert where he goes toe-to-toe with Satan. As real as Jesus’ temptations are to pleasure, fame, and power, they are but expressions of a more fundamental and deceptively obvious one: the temptation to forget who and whose you are.
A stately-looking older gentleman walked into the classroom and introduced himself as the professor. After a terse jaunt through the syllabus, he looked up from the podium suddenly and posed the question: Who here believes that a person can change?