My interpretation of #BlackOutTuesday: mute the self-centeredness of social media and heed the words of Psalm 34:15: “The eyes of the Lord are toward the righteous, and his ears toward their cry.” It was a call to learn something, and maybe even do something. What did you learn yesterday? Anything?
As we celebrate the life of Reverend Martin Luther King Jr., may this prayer, for all those who pray it, be a means to avail ourselves of God’s gracious gift and so “receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Heb. 4:16).
At some point in our lives, we all confront the question, “who am I?” We need other people to help us find the answer. An Vu tells us why.
“I love you” It just was the most believable utterance of that phrase I’ve ever heard, while sitting in an utterly unremarkable conference room transformed with incense and song into a place open to worship; somehow breaking through the stubborn habits of conventional self-assurance I felt forced to carry. For some, a vocation is automatic, an easy skin to fit into. For others, God’s call is great, the response is real, and yet it is something one must learn to love. Take a moment to read and pray with a reflection about my vocation, and maybe it will illuminate something about yours.
My timely prayer is that no memorial like the National Memorial for Peace & Justice of the Equal Justice Initiative need be made ever again. With the racism now being perpetuated against Asians as a result of COVID-19, I will be praying all the more.
I’m a proud son of Green Bay, WI, and I have plenty of Packers apparel in my wardrobe. The other day I was at the gym, and given my workout clothing rotation, it happened that I was wearing a Packers t-shirt and shorts – green and gold from head to toe.
At the beginning of Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, Andrew Milewski, S.J. reflects on how a language exchange turned into a place of encounter and friendship. In this place of encounter, he wrestles with how to pray and have solidarity with the diverse Asian-American community and his friends who are a part of that group.
In this Holy Week, I remember Jesus’s words on the cross, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” I ask for forgiveness, for the damage that I have caused unknowingly, and I forgive those who have damaged me with their words and actions. Join me as I reflect how an ancient Greek philosopher and a late-medieval Spanish Basque Priest guide me on using social media for the greater good.
Our first meal was at a loud bar with gloriously cheap food. Our second meal was at our beloved parish, St. Ignatius Loyola on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. We kept having these two meals over and over again. On Sundays, though, the food didn’t change. His distribution of Communion was never an isolated sacramental act, but the moment that gave clarity to the rest of our encounters. Meet my friend Carlos, a dear friend who helped redirect my life.
“This whole year has felt like a Lenten penance in the desert, so I’m not thinking about what to give up. Instead, I enter this season replaying images of that day with Javier.” Christopher Alt, SJ, recounts the story of his friend’s first day out of prison and considers what lessons it has for us as we see promises of the end of the pandemic and move into Lent.