CLIFFORD HENNINGS, OFM, writer, The Source of Peace and Unity

“FINALLY, BROTHERS, REJOICE. Mend your ways, encourage one another, agree with one another, live in peace, and the God of love and peace will be with you” (2 Cor 13:11). Who among us does not desire this? Whenever I hear these words, it’s as if the Spirit of God is whispering: “This is right. This is good. This is what we are made for.”

Indeed, we are made for this: a community built on mutual affection and care, filled with peace and rejoicing. To be free of quarrels and jealousies, to know you belong without judgment or contempt, to delight in the success of another and they in yours: These are the hallmarks of a godly society.

TURN TO CHRIST

When we see the divisions in our world among nations, political parties, Church factions, even within the pews of our parishes and the walls of our homes, we can so easily become dismayed. We long for peace and unity, but how can it come to pass? There seem to be as many answers to that question as there are people to ask it. Some put their trust in political maneuvering, others in economic power or military might, others in technology and medicine.

Yet what I have found is this: While some put their trust in chariots and horses, we trust in the Lord. It is Christ and Christ alone who can heal the deep wounds that divide us. It is Christ alone who can bridge the vast expanse between us. Our job is to be open to his prompting, to go where he leads, to let go of our grievances, and join with those he puts in our lives.

I have seen marriages on the brink of divorce

These scenes may seem alike to you, but there are changes in the two. So look and see if you can name eight ways in which they’re not the same. transformed into beacons of light. Where they once had sides, now they are one. The bridge that united them was Christ. It might seem trite to say couples ought to pray together, but I do say it because it works. Christ works. It is hard to pridefully boast or fight with another when you have invoked Christ to be in your midst.

Christ has the power to humble our spirits, and this is key. We cannot hope to be united or find peace so long as we still hold the weapons of jealousy, wounded pride, or the haughty spirit of indignation. We must let Christ win, and for that, we must accept defeat.

SMOOTHING OUR EDGES

I recall an image a mentor offered me years ago. I was a young man in formation living with a dozen other hotheaded youth. He likened us to a bunch of jagged rocks, held in a box and being shaken about. Each rock strikes the others, chipping away the edges, until all are made into smooth stones.

As a Church, we are together in Christ, and he wishes to chip away the edges. This requires the humility to accept that we need to be worked on. It is uncomfortable to admit our wrongs, our hurts, and our shortcomings. Yet it is essential.

To be healed, you must admit you need healing. Go to the physician. To gain wisdom, you must recognize your ignorance. Go to the teacher. To be fed, you must realize that what you are pursuing does not satisfy. Go to the one with bread from heaven. If we truly want peace in our lives, we must lay down our arms in surrender and go to the Prince of Peace. In this we are united and in this we will rejoice.

by Bob Vojtko

is now all one piece. 7) The second bun is longer. 8) The sun has an extra ray. spatula. 4) The first dial on the grill has changed position. 5) The top of the ketchup bottle is smaller. 6) The table in the back ANSWERS: 1) A crease in the cloud on the right is missing. 2) The third hot dog is longer. 3) There is another line on the

DANCES AND DIAPERS: REFLECTIONS ON PARENTING AND PRAYER

I HOLD MY NEWBORN SON; he holds my gaze. As I carry him in my arms, he carries my heart to a new place. I notice every shift of his eyes, every wince, every movement, and all the thoughts he has not yet learned to express. I feel every ounce of energy jolting through his body. Th en I feel the energy slowly dissipate, trickling out into the nothingness, as I bob him up and down, swaying in the living room to Fleetwood Mac. His body relaxes as he closes his eyes.

As we dance, I’m reminded of Th omas Merton’s communion with the birds outside his hermitage: “Sermon to the birds: ‘Esteemed friends, birds of noble lineage, I have no message to you except this: be what you are: be birds. Th us, you will be your own sermon to yourselves!’ Reply: ‘Even this is one sermon too many!’”

How was I ever on the fence about wanting children? Th ank God for my wife, who always knew she wanted to be a mother. My children are my books, I always thought to myself. But now my words are uncontained, spun out in every which way, like threads pulled from a blanket. It is the very beginning, I suppose, of my writing decline.

My only other comparison to this wordlessness, this mysticism, is grief. I once wrote a parable about a mystic who spent each day writing about God, then casting her pages into a bonfi re each night. I think I understand that parable more now.

A NEW PRAYER

We named our boy Indy Jude. I was raised near Indianapolis in a small house in the country. I was surrounded by love, by fi elds, by sisters, cousins, and friends. Indiana has always represented a sense of safety, simplicity, and kindness—an environment I’d like to give to my son here in North Carolina.

Th ere is a quote I love from Hoosier author Kurt Vonnegut’s God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater, or Pearls Before Swine, where the protagonist is asked to baptize the town’s babies even though he’s not a priest. Th ese are his censored words: “Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got a hundred years here. Th ere’s only one rule that I know of, babies, you’ve got to be kind.”

I feel the weight of Indy’s head in the palm of my right hand. Th ere are so many things I do not know about developing this formative mind, but I know this: I can raise him to be kind. It is enough to calm my fears.

We gave him the middle name Jude mostly because we liked the sound. But why not do some meaningmaking? St. Jude is the patron saint of lost causes. It has been a hard year, the hardest yet. I already feel little Indy Jude recovering my wonder, my hope. (Or is that the Zoloft ?)

I carry Indy over to the turntable. It’s time to flip Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours record, which I do, already a pro at one-armed tasks. I was always afraid to hold babies. I was even afraid to talk to babies—those strange little aliens—unsure of what to say. I don’t feel any of that these days. I was born to be a dad.

Indy shifts his head, squeaks, then settles back into the dance. I think of his two grandmothers in heaven. I think of how happy they would be. I return to studying his face, to reading this book that I will never finish. His cheeks and forehead have mostly recovered from the bruises and scratches he suffered from the C-section two weeks before. How could I have made someone so beautiful? I look at my wife on the couch and understand.

I have work to do. I have deadlines to meet. There is no paternity leave for a freelancer. But my to-do list has little hold over me during this dance, this magic, this thin space, this prayer. I am reminded of another

ACTION STEPS

• Often, we enter prayer with an agenda, carrying to God our fears and anxieties. This is a good way to pray, but sometimes we miss moments of connection throughout the day that can become prayers themselves. How might we open ourselves up to experiencing these moments, even when words fall short?

PRAYER

GOD OF ALL THINGS God of “the pots and pans” and dances and diapers,

teach us to savor moments of connection

which reveal themselves to us through

beauty, wonder, humor, or everyday tasks

in the lives you have gifted to each of us.

Merton quote from his beautiful essay “Rain and the Rhinoceros,” where, in the spirit of Henry David Thoreau, he meditates upon the sound of rain at his hermitage: “Nobody started it, nobody is going to stop it. It will talk as long as it wants, this rain. As long as it talks, I am going to listen.”

Until Indy gets hungry again, I’m going to dance.

I’m suddenly startled by a loud noise. Energy shoots up my back and stiffens my arm. Indy has blown a hole in his pants. He is awake now, flustered, though he was the one who fired the cannon.

I think of Brother Lawrence’s prayer to the “Lord of the pots and pans,” this Lord of dances and diapers. A new prayer in a new moment has begun.

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Daily online prayer resource FranciscanMedia.org/PausePray

• It’s also easy to romanticize prayer. How might these moments of connection reveal themselves to us in everyday tasks and the things that we are often simply trying to “get through”? How might we allow all our random thoughts and feelings to exist in prayer?

He was the helper, stretching forth a hand of mercy to those who had nothing, and showing compassion to the affl icted.

—Thomas of Celano, The First Life of St. Francis

The comfort of the cross. Death giving way to resurrection and eternal life. The poor and meek are blessed beyond all. The last will be fi rst, and the fi rst will be last. Christianity is fi lled with mysteries and paradoxes that seemingly defy understanding. How do we make sense of it all?

In Paschal Paradox: Refl ections on a Life of Spiritual Evolution, internationally acclaimed author and speaker Diarmuid O’Murchu explores these ideas, grounding them with his own life experiences, to offer a provocative new take on the questions that confound skeptics and believers alike. Part memoir and part meditation, Paschal Paradox digs deep into the author’s life before soaring to grapple with the big transpersonal ideas inspired by each personal story.

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If this isn’t a timely purchase, please consider ordering directly from our online store. It will take a little longer to arrive, but it will benefi t the nonprofi t work of Franciscan Media, spreading the Gospel through our resources to thousands every day.

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In 1972, a young Franciscan friar named Murray Bodo wrote a unique book about the life of St. Francis of Assisi. Francis: The Journey and the Dream offered readers a unique combination of lyrical prose and brief, absorbing vignettes that inspired hundreds of thousands of people all over the world to contemplate the life of the famous saint and see him in a new way. Fifty years and over 200,000 copies later, this book still captivates people everywhere, and Father Bodo is still writing about St. Francis and the Franciscan way of life. His poetic style continues to draw readers in, and he himself continues to gaze in wonder at the saint who worked nearly his entire life to rebuild the Church. This special anniversary edition includes a new preface in which Father Bodo refl ects on a half century spent immersed in the Franciscan way.

Order your copy today! Shop.FranciscanMedia.org

If this isn’t a timely purchase, please consider ordering directly from our online store. It will take a little longer to arrive, but it will benefi t the nonprofi t work of Franciscan Media, spreading the Gospel through our resources to thousands every day.