Review: The Art of Loving God

Blessed Sacrament Chapel

The Perpetual Eucharistic Adoration chapel in town has been open just over a month, and I’m blessed to be holding two holy hours. I had originally signed up as a guardian for one hour, but added an additional hour because no adorers had committed to that time.

I thought I’d drop the hour when others signed up. Now, a month later, I regularly see three or four people during this bonus hour. Meanwhile, I’m in no hurry to drop it.

No one familiar with Adoration is surprised by this revelation, right?

Building relationship with the Lord

There’s no prescribed way to “do” Adoration. It’s a visit with Jesus, so I’m of the humble opinion that “come as you are” is the best advice to give to someone new to this practice of adoring Jesus Christ in the Blessed Sacrament.

There's no prescribed way to "do" Adoration. It's a visit with Jesus. Share on X

In the fifteen or so years I’ve been going to to Adoration, I have kept silence, prayed, wept, laughed (quietly!), read, stared blankly, breathed deeply, rested, nodded off, written books, made lists, and worshiped, adored, and loved the Lord.

I’ve been focused and distracted, and everything in-between.

I have sometimes had a hard heart, and other times had my heart broken, remade, and refreshed.

God, however, has been constant.

Bring a book

These days I take a prayer journal and some spiritual reading. Sometimes I get to those items, sometimes I don’t, but it’s a good place to start if you’re new to Adoration.

I just finished reading The Art of Loving God: Simple Virtues for the Christian Life by St Francis de Sales. It’s a collection of teachings he gave to the nuns at the Visitation convent in Annecy, the teachings are timeless — perfect for meditating on one virtue a week. I often cycle back and reread this inspiring collection of wisdom from one of my go-to saints.

Do you take spiritual reading to Adoration? What do you recommend?

Review: Star Wars

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker possesses just the right combination of nostalgia, archetype, arcs, surprises, and closure, not to mention explosions and impressive battles. I’ve enjoyed the Star Wars Saga since I was a teenager when the first film premiered in 1977, and have more or less liked every episode since that first one (minus the silly scene of the “family portrait” at the end of The Return of the Jedi and the incomprehensible Jar Jar Binks).

While I won’t say this is a franchise that defines me or has somehow dramatically impacted who I am, I do acknowledge that it has a meaningful impact on the culture.

In fact, Star Wars has been an excellent tool in my literature classes because of its great themes and archetypes.

I can love these films and wear the critic’s hat. The stories are predictable. The dialog is sometimes terrible. The resolutions are obvious. But the stories! They inspire and uplift me. I’m all about the both/and capabilities. The critics can point out what they want — the films speak to us in ways that delight and entertain. The bottom line is simple; the films are successful. They entertain us, make us laugh, make us cry. They give us heroes who are flawed and still manage to prevail. They give us a universe in which Good triumphs over Evil.

While we might discuss the themes of mercy and redemption throughout the series, with prodigal sons who descend into the Dark and then find the Light, we need only look back to the first episode release, Episode IV, to understand what this series is all about. When it first played that summer of 1977, it was just named Star Wars. The subtitle, A New Hope, came later, and is, to me, the key to understanding the whole story.

Evil — through chaos, war, oppression, and injustice — assaults the galaxy throughout the saga. Nevertheless, our heroes do not fall into despair though they do come close a few times. They long for peace, justice and love to prevail. Nothing is more poignant than Leia and Han’s love for their son, Ben, and their hope he return home. Or Rey’s conviction that the Light is worth fighting for, despite her own fears. Or Luke’s faith that the Light will, in fact, prevail.

Our heroes put their hope in the Light, giving them the strength to persevere in the fight. We love these films because the good guys win. Because hope, as we understand it as Catholic Christians, “keeps man from discouragement; it sustains him during times of abandonment; it opens up his heart in expectation of eternal beatitude. Buoyed up by hope, he is preserved from selfishness and led to the happiness that flows from charity” (CCC 1818).

Hope permeates the Star Wars Saga and that is why it resonates with so many people. Not a hope that is filled with happy endings and good luck, but the deep desire and longing for happiness that is rooted in the Good.

Review: The Red Umbrella

I have a huge stack of books to read on my nightstand, but a recent conversation with one of my nieces prompted me to reread Christina Diaz Gonzalez’s touching story of love and sacrifice, The Red Umbrella. Set in the early 1960’s after the Cuban communist revolution, it follows the journey of teenaged Lucia and her little brother as they flee the oppression and dangers of a cruel regime through Operation Pedro Pan.

Terrified by the imminent danger to their physical well-being, and distraught by the brain-washing and emotional abuse inflicted on the nation’s youth, thousands of Cuban parents sent their children to the United States to protect them from the unknown horrors of totalitarianism. In conjunction with the Catholic Church and hundreds of individuals and families who came together to foster these children, Operation Pedro Pan processed and welcomed over 14,000 unaccompanied children to the U.S. from 1960-1962.

Next year marks the 60th anniversary of the beginning of this exodus. It’s stunning to recognize how many decades have passed, and how fresh this pain still is. I imagine some of these children, now in their 70’s and older, have children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren. This is their story — all of them, as many of us carry the stories of our families in our hearts, never to be forgotten.

Gonzalez shares a fictional story that weaves important historical elements into the plot, gives a new generation insight into a tragic situation in Cuba, and provides families an opportunity to expound on the truths shared in the narrative. I first read this book almost a decade ago, and it still holds strong today.

You can read more about Christina Diaz Gonzalez and her books for middle grades and young adults here.

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