Finding Hope

  I n Mass recently, the Gospel reading by Father Brian was powerful...from Matthew 7:1-5. Jesus said to his disciples: "Stop judging, that you may not be judged. For as you judge, so will you be judged, and the measure with which you measure will be measured out to you." One of the strangest things about being human is how easy it is to diagnose everyone else's problems. We're remarkably gifted at it. Many of us are Olympic-level talented.  We can spot a character flaw from three zip codes away.  Identify selfishness before someone finishes a sentence.  Detect arrogance with the precision of military radar. Laziness.  Pride.  Stubbornness.  Immaturity.  Poor communication skills. We've got charts.  Graphs.  Supporting evidence.  A PowerPoint presentation.  Three witnesses.  And, if necessary, screenshots. Especially screenshots. Meanwhile, our own nonsense could be standing in the front yard lighting fireworks and we'd so...

I don’t know much about the wind. I’m sure there’s a scientific explanation. Pressure systems. Temperature changes. Atmospheric conditions. A meteorologist somewhere is probably reading this and shaking their head. But none of that is what I think about when the wind shows up. I think about the mystery of it. One minute the world is standing perfectly still. The next minute, every tree in the neighborhood is bowing like it just heard important news. The leaves start talking. The grass starts leaning. The bushes begin dancing. A plastic grocery bag suddenly develops impossible confidence and attempts to migrate to another state. Everything reacts. Everything. The birds adjust. The squirrels pause. The waves rise. The flags snap. The garbage cans roll halfway down the street looking like they have somewhere urgent to be. And yet you can’t actually see the thing causing any of it. You only see what it touches. I love that. Especially the sound. Not the dramatic hurricane kind. Just the or...

  I used to think life was a series of finish lines. Get the job. And then what? Get the promotion. And then what? Buy the house. And then what? Buy the bigger house because apparently the first house wasn't housing hard enough. And then what? Get the new car. Enjoy that magical new-car smell for approximately fourteen minutes. And then what? Now you have a monthly payment that requires prayer, budgeting, and occasional divine intervention. And then what? We're funny creatures. We spend our lives convinced that the next thing will finally do it. The newest phone. The nicer suit. The watch. The vacation. The title. The recognition. The thing. And for a little while, it works. The phone is exciting. The suit looks sharp. The watch catches the light just right. Then somebody releases a newer phone, a sharper suit, and a watch that can apparently monitor your heartbeat, blood pressure, sleep habits, and whether you're making good life choices. And we're off chasing again. ...

I woke up grumpy today. Not irritated. Not annoyed. Grumpy. The kind of grumpy that feels like wearing a wetsuit you can’t take off. Nothing is actually wrong. Everything is technically fine. But you’re uncomfortable anyway. And then you’re annoyed that you’re uncomfortable because you know you should be grateful. I hate that kind of grumpy. So I did what any reasonable adult would do. I tried to solve myself. Coffee. Reading. A walk. Then another walk because apparently the first walk wasn’t inspirational enough. Church. Still grumpy. At this point, I was running out of solutions and beginning to suspect the problem might be me. So I sat on a bench by the river and started asking why. Maybe it was because I stayed up too late watching the Knicks. Except that couldn’t be it. The Knicks had just come back from twenty-nine points down. As a lifelong Knicks fan, that’s not a source of grumpiness. That’s evidence that God occasionally shows off. Maybe it was because I ate like a college f...

  M y favorite thing to look at in all of nature is a sunrise. Especially a winter sunrise. I also enjoy looking at Erin. For the record, Erin remains undefeated. Marriage is largely about knowing when to include that sentence. The bay near my home has become my cathedral. Not because it’s quiet. Not because it’s beautiful. Although it is both. It’s because every morning it reminds me that some of the best things in life happen whether I’m paying attention or not. A sunrise cannot be rushed. You have to sit still and stare at the exact spot where the sun is supposed to appear. Which feels ridiculous. Like showing up three hours early for a concert. Except this performer has never missed a show. First the darkness is navy, almost black. Then a soft bruise-colored purple. Then the faintest suggestion of orange, like the sky is clearing its throat. A line of gold smears across the water. The clouds go from ghosts to fire. And then, so slowly you almost miss it, the edge of the sun pee...