It
is New Year's Eve day and I am getting ready to meet a friend who is visiting
from Australia. It is his first time to visit Boston as he completes his
round-the-world trip touring Jesuit communities on his sabbatical year. I look
forward to my time with him because he is such a lovely man. I have been
waiting all week long to spend time reviewing my Christmas cards to honor and
pray for each person in my life who holds a special place. (I even pray for
those who send online greetings and for those for whom I did not get to send a
card.) Now is the right time. Now is always the best time.
I just finished directing an
End-of-Year Christmas retreat with a good friend and we are pleased with the
outcome. Most of the retreatants left Eastern Point with a wide smile on their
faces and a jubilant jump in their steps. We tried to modify the traditional
retreat by extending the Christmas graces with some festive activities and some
relationship building while providing greater space for silence and freedom.
While for some it was a deviation from what they knew and expected, most let us
know of their deep-felt pleasure of ending their year this way.
I tell God I am blessed every day to
be able to work and live in Gloucester's retreat house. I enjoy it. I am
changed by each retreat because I become a kinder, better man. I find this work
makes me better able to reveal my care for others more openly. God helps me
love more easily. While the beauty of the ocean is breath-taking and the
landscape work grounds me and helps me search for natural beauty, it is the
lives of others that inspires me to want to live each day to the fullest.
I've had one of my best Christmases in
years, if not the best. My soul is very light and happy and my heart beats with
great fervor. I'm grateful for all the miraculous work God has done with me
throughout the years. At times, my heart feels ready to burst open because of
the great goodness I see in others and it hurts when I see someone in deep
pain. Mostly, I'm grateful for the love I am given by many. I merely want to
return that gift abundantly to them and to God.
I am overjoyed at the goodwill I
experienced with my family during the holidays. I am grateful for the desire I
feel in wanting to spend time with them. I cherish the fraternal care I receive
from brother Jesuits and our Ignatian companions, especially the pilgrims from
our journey to Spain. I'm honored to receive great friendship and revelry with
my new friends on Boston's North Shore, especially from the choruses, and of
course, I am extremely enriched by those who share their stories of faith at
the retreat house.
My longstanding friends remain my
longstanding friends because I like them and they are nice. To honor my 50th
year of life, celebrated around Thanksgiving, I was in touch with many high
school classmates and childhood friends. I even connected with my high school
teachers because they did remarkable work preparing us for life and I am very
appreciative of their skills in forming us and guiding us in those initial steps
of life. Yes, it has been a good year and a good life; all I have to do is look
around me and be amazed at the good people who are part of it. God has been
more generous to me than I deserve, and I spent time in prayer telling God that
my heart is so moved by the goodness I receive.
As I review my Christmas cards, I am
touched by the many stories told to me from friends and loved ones. I am
honored by the friendships, some of which are difficult to maintain because of
distance and time, but we persevere because our stories together are worth
holding up to the Lord.
Mind you that many of these stories
are filled with heartache, loss and suffering, and they are filled with
perseverance, bountiful grace, and hope. I find it a great grace to be able to
hold these stories in silent respect. I want to hear more of these stories
because it helps me grow in compassion and care. The key to my response is a
loving presence - just being silent with one who is suffering and in pain.
I find it quite extraordinary when
someone honors my experience by letting me know they feel what I am feeling.
Everyone's story needs to be told, heard and honored. Everyone needs to be
seen. I gain greater insights and understanding when I allow others to feel - and
feel what they are feeling so I can experience being in the place of another.
It is risky. Compassion is risky because we risk being hurt in the process of
showing solidarity, but it is the place in our hearts where we are moved to
greater love for one another. For me, the risk is worth it.
I am convinced that Christ's
compassion can change our world. It has mine. If we can hold one another's
story more reverently, it will create an environment in which less hurt and
harm is created. It will create a world that is more sympathetic,
understanding, and tolerant. It will help a person feel connected and become
more whole. We live in hope that people can see themselves as more beautiful
gifts to themselves and to others.
We hold quite a gift in our hands.
Christ has blessed us with the gift of compassion and he needs us to work with
him to transform the world. We cannot put a stop to all the nonsense that
creates more suffering and sorrow, but perhaps we can lessen the insanity when
we hold one suffering person in front of us. We give them an incredible gift of
solidarity and understanding and it eases pain. We live in hope that this
goodness will be remembered and passed onto others and that life will be built
up rather than destroyed. Love and compassion will reign. It will have the
first and last word, and it is good for us to see it in the midst of ordinary
life.
I am content at this end of the year
to spend time in silence at this beautiful retreat house to remember your life
and to present you to God. Thank you for who and what you have been to me. May
God bless you now and in the coming year with spiritual (and financial)
prosperity, good health, and a great deal of hope.
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