Here’s Tom’s response to my blog-alogue posting on the Sacrament of Reconciliation. [I swear I didn't set him up to do a plug for the DVD...]

Paul,

Your reminiscence about the stern confessor who felt it was his duty to alert you to your imminent damnation reminds me of that lovely Gospel passage where Jesus walked through Galilee informing men, women, and especially little children that they were going to hell. Oh…. no, I guess I don’t recall seeing that passage at all. So I wonder why so many Christians feel it’s their duty to be on damnation patrol.

What piques my interest when I hear your enthusiasm for the Sacrament of Reconciliation is how eager you are to help people find their way out of their messes and into the light of Christ. Of course we’re all sinners–what’s the news there? The real news–the Good News–is that there’s a way out of sin and into a new and more abundant life, and the Sacrament of Reconciliation can be a source of that freedom. I heard this message from you especially in the Jesuits on…Reconciliation video from Loyola Productions which I recommend to anyone who wants to better understand how confession can truly be good for their soul.   

Believe it or not, I DO enjoy going to confession, though I am careful about who I confess to, trusting only those who convey a sense that they’ve recognized their own need for the great grace of God’s mercy and received it in abundance.

Tom

“Be still and know that I am God” [Ps 46:10]

Tom McGrath and I have by no means abandoned our First Annual People For Others Blog-alogue, but we have put it on pause for the next week or so because Tom is doing something vastly more important.  It says a lot about a man (and about the company that employs him.  Sorry, couldn’t resist…) that he takes 8 days to go off on a silent retreat to reflect upon his life and his vocation as a publisher.  Please join me in praying  for Tom this week.  I know that he will keep us all in his prayers (because I’ve already begged him to do so.)

How will the rest of us find a moment of “retreat” each day this week?  Take ten deep breaths and give thanks to God? A reflective cup of coffee?  Turn the radio off on the way home from work to just be with God for a while?  If you want to do it, you’ll find a way.

Paul,

Thank you for your profound answer to the question, “How do you know God loves you?” The joy I’m taking from this simple Blog-alogue (and the wonderful comments generated) reminds me of the lost art of correspondence and calls to mind some of the letters I’ve received over the years that I continue to save and cherish.

In the spirit of your previous post I’ll take up another of the questions you put to me:

Why are you [still] a Catholic?

I can answer that in two words: The Eucharist. Jesus’ continuing offer of his real and enduring presence continues to fascinate, enchant, and transform me. I don’t think I’m overstating it to say that Jesus’ gift to his disciples at the Last Supper is the most brilliant single action by a human that I can think of. (Granted, that human was also divine, which is a theological avenue I will pursue no further.) The Eucharist is such a rich sacrament, incorporating not only the bread and wine, but also we the people gathered. It’s a symbol that reveals the true nature of our existence—that rather than being separate and alone, we are all one; rather than being hungry and empty, we are offered an abundant feast.

At the most difficult times of my life I have felt called to mediate in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament—even when the theology of such devotion seemed contrary to my current theology. I come. I sit aware of my emptiness. I am fed in ways I don’t understand but cannot deny.

And on my way to Mass on Sunday I can walk through the parking lot full of judgments about my fellow parishioners and their personalities, their lack of driving skills, what they’re wearing, etc. But after kneeling in my pew and watching them stream up to Communion, their spiritual hunger on open display, I am transformed and realize the truth of the hymn, “and we, though many, throughout the earth, we are one body in this one Lord.” And that’s what gives me hope for the human adventure. And that’s what keeps me coming back for more. 

Tom

Blog-logue!, Blog-alogue, part deux, Blog-alogue, the third

So, on day three of the First Annual People For Others Blog-alogue, Tom throws one of my questions back at me. He thinks maybe he’s going to catch me flat-footed?

How do you know that God loves you?

Tom,

Morristown, New Jersey.  About 9:00p.m. on a sultry June evening in 1993.  I am in the chapel of the Loyola House of Retreats spending some quiet and decidedly undramatic time before the Blessed Sacrament.

Suddenly, but again without any drama whatsoever, I was inundated with a deep-felt knowledge and awareness that God truly is my “Abba.”  My daddy.  God, I understood, is crazier in love with me than the proud father of a newborn baby — boundlessly and unconditionally embracing my every atom, my thoughts, memories and feelings.  

For most of my life, my assent to God’s love was an intellectual exercise and I glimpsed this love only in fleeting and tantalizing moments. I prayed for decades to fully experience God’s love and, like peace in Northern Ireland, decided it just wasn’t going to happen.  God had other plans, of course, and the grace was granted to me in New Jersey of all places. [Not that there's anything wrong with NJ!]

I think of my life in “Before Morristown” and “After Morristown” terms.  It was, without question, the most important thing that has ever happened to me. It was as if, having viewed the world in two-dimensional black and white, I suddenly began to see everything in glorious multi-dimensional Technicolor.

In the 16 years since it happened, I have never experienced anything like it again, but I have never for one single moment doubted that God loves me more than I can begin to imagine.

Could it have been an illusion and could I still be delusional about it all?  Sure, anything is possible.  I choose to believe that it is the most prefect and precious gift I ever received.  My own Copernican Revolution.

Paul

Blog-logue!, Blog-alogue, part deux, Blog-alogue, IV