Steve

Step by Step: The Journey of Lent

Steve · March 12, 2025 · Leave a Comment

Lent is a journey and, what’s more, it’s a pilgrimage. And a pilgrimage, according to writer Paul Elie, “is a journey undertaken in the light of a story.” As we enter more fully into this season of prayer, fasting and almsgiving, we are called to ask ourselves and reflect on a simple question: What’s the story that is giving light to our Lenten journey?

The answer seems obvious, of course. We’re walking in the light of the story of Jesus and his passion and death. And as sad, painful, violent and unjust as that story is, we are being asked to not look away when the going gets tough. It’s a six-week deathwatch on our way to Easter, a supernatural event that holds the promise of eternal life and victory over death. It’s quite a story we are walking through, and the light is bright.

And yet, our Lenten practices and disciplines can sometimes seem to have very little to do with this story and promise of Jesus. We abstain from meat on Fridays but give little thought as to why. We give up candy or alcohol or over-eating, all the while hoping that we drop a few pounds and get our lives back in order. These are not bad things, of course, but on their own they fall short of spiritual pilgrimage undertaken in the light of the story of Jesus. For above all else, Lent is a chance to put one foot in front of the other and draw closer to Jesus on his walk toward the Cross.

Lent is about our intentions and commitments, about the spiritual movement that is taking place in us as we move through these 40 days. Lent comes to life when we walk this journey with a little more solemnity than usual, when we extend our times of prayer a little longer, or enter into them a little more frequently. It’s not just about not grabbing that piece of candy or a beer; it’s about pausing ourselves in our steps, turning around, and finding Jesus meeting our gaze and smiling in our direction. It’s about walking that long and treacherous road to the cross with him and not turning aside because the rest of our life is just so attractive and exciting. It’s about saying to ourselves: This is the journey I choose to walk, at least for these 40 days. And maybe then I’ll keep walking the same road with a little more energy, passion and discipline. Let’s start here, in the light of the story.

Suggested Lenten Reading: I highly recommend Christine Marie Eberle’s new book, “Finding God Along the Way: Wisdom from the Camino for Life at Home,” published in January by Paraclete Press. The book tells the story of the author’s 2022 pilgrimage along the Ignatian Camino in Spain (not to be confused with the intersecting and better-known Camino de Santiago). In the company of a group of pilgrims whose average age was 67, Eberle traced the 16^th-century footsteps of St. Ignatius Loyola, mystic and founder of the Society of Jesus (the Jesuits).

The book is far more than a travelogue, though. Eberle’s writing takes us deep into her own experience of the pilgrimage, complete with all its physical, psychological and spiritual challenges. Along the way, readers are also introduced to the story of Ignatius, his transformation and spirituality, and the development and character of his influential “Spiritual Exercises.” Whether you ever plan to take on such a pilgrimage or not, Eberle’s book is a journey in itself, and one you’ll be glad you undertook. Along the way, like the pilgrims in the book, you will find yourself and the God who made you. For more information, and to check our Eberle’s supplemental Lenten reading guide to the book, go to: https://paracletepress.com/products/finding-god-along-the-way

Speaking of Journeys…

Clink on the link below to go to my website and enjoy one of my favorite “faith journey” songs of all time, Rich Mullins’ contemporary worship classic, “Sometimes By Step,” a song which contains this reminder of God’s providence and promise:

O God, You are my God
And I will ever praise You
And I will seek You in the morning
And I will learn to walk in Your ways
And step by step You’ll lead me
And I will follow You all of my days.

(by Rich Mullins and Beaker)

Hey, Death: No Hard Feelings

Steve · March 2, 2025 · 1 Comment

On this last Sunday before many Christians around the world begin the six-week observance of lent, we are being challenged to consider one of the core reasons for this season of repentance and prayer: To remember that we are dust and to dust we shall return. For is there any relationship in our lives more powerful than that which we have with the knowledge of our own inescapable death?

In the first reading from Sirach, we’re told to pay close attention to the words we speak, for they reveal our inner selves and the “bent of our minds” clearly to those around us. We’re reminded to think before we speak and to base our praise of others on the words that come out of their mouths and not by the reputations (or political power) that proceeds them. In the second reading from 1 Corinthians, we come face to face with death and are asked to contemplate and pronounce for ourselves those two famous questions: “Hey, death, where is your victory? Where is your sting?”

Neither I (nor I think St. Paul) is making light of death. Death, especially when it happens to the innocent and to those we love, stings. It hurts. It can leave us broken and crippled, at least for a while. But Paul’s point, and one of the key points of Lent, is that for those of us who believe in the story of Jesus and his redemptive life, death and resurrection, death does not get the final say in our existence. Our faith in Jesus and our belief in eternity demands more of us.

Lent is a time to consider just how it is we are living our lives. It’s a time to measure the fruits of our existence and a time to honestly examine our lives and see how our words and deeds measure up against the length of our days.

If you’re still on the fence about your own Lenten observances, I humbly suggest beginning with these kinds of observations of ourselves. For making such an honest examination of our lives will no doubt lead us straight back into the lap of God, to the giver and sustainer of all life. It will lead us into the disciplines to which Lent calls us – more prayer, more fasting (less for ourselves), and more charity toward others. Perhaps the most important thing we can give up for Lent is our self-blindness.

I have been moved lately by the song below, written and performed so beautifully by the Americana group the Avett Brothers. It’s a call to face death in the way we live each day, in the words we speak, and in our honest considerations of the fruits of our existence. It’s a challenge to say, as the song begins:

When my body won’t hold me anymore
And it finally lets me free
Will I be ready?
When my feet won’t walk another mile
And my lips give their last kiss goodbye
Will my hands be steady when I lay down my fears, my hopes, and my doubts
The rings on my fingers, and the keys to my house
With no hard feelings?

Note: If you’re reading this is an email, you can enjoy the video for the song by clicking the link to my website.

No Hard Feelings

Stepping Out of the Boat and Into a Bolder Lent

Steve · February 20, 2025 · 2 Comments

Last week, I was reading and praying with the story of Jesus walking on the surface of the Sea of Galilee, as found in Matthew’s gospel (Matthew 14:22-33). It’s a well-known, frequently illustrated story, and one that I have been reading and trying to imagine since I was a child. The rough, roiling waves and the darkness of the fourth watch of the night (somewhere between 3 and 6 a.m.) all came alive for me as I imagined myself sitting scared in the boat (likely seasick, too). I could see (finally!) Jesus walking across the waves towards us and then stretching out his hand and inviting Peter (and me) to come walk beside him. It’s dramatic stuff.

It’s a story that illustrates the power and divinity of Christ, of course. It follows another extraordinary story of the feeding of five thousand people with just five loaves of bread and two fish. Lest we begin to think this Jesus is just another wise rabbi or perhaps some kind of prophet, we are given stories to remind us (once again) that Jesus is both fully human and fully divine. They are stories that call us into action ourselves, reminding us that lives of faith are not for the faint-hearted and lukewarm.

As 21^st-century, scientifically literate readers, we are faced with decisions to believe (or not believe) in what we know to be impossible. Water cannot just become wine. A few pieces of food cannot feed a multitude of hungry people. We are heavier than water and will sink if we step out of the boat.

And yet we find ourselves being beckoned to boldness of thought and action when we accept the call and mantle of Christ. The call to discipleship is the call to see more than meets the eye and strive for more than seems possible.

With lent approaching in less than two weeks (Ash Wednesday is March 5), I’m beginning to think about what it means to live more boldly. Lent seems a good time to begin to explore this possibility more fully, to dip my toes into the water of a life in Christ that will challenge and transform me even further.

I usually head into Lent with the best of intentions but not always the best and most challenging plans. So sometimes my meagre efforts fail a few weeks in, a little like Peter slipping beneath the waves when the water gets tough. In the midst of all of this contemplation, I am reminded that Lent is a time of both “fasting and feasting,” as the American motivational writer William Arthur Ward wrote in his now-famous prayer:

Lenten Litany of Fasting and Feasting

Fast from judging others; feast on the Christ within them.
Fast from emphasis on differences; feast on the unity of life.
Fast from thoughts of illness; feast on the healing power of God.
Fast from words that pollute; feast on phrases that purify.
Fast from discontent; feast on gratitude.
Fast from anger; feast on patience.
Fast from pessimism; feast on optimism.
Fast from complaining; feast on appreciation.
Fast from negatives; feast on affirmatives.
Fast from unrelenting pressures; feast on unceasing prayer.
Fast from hostility; feast on non-resistance.
Fast from bitterness; feast on forgiveness.
Fast from self concern; feast on compassion for others.
Fast from personal anxiety; feast on eternal truth.
Fast from discouragement; feast on hope.
Fast from lethargy; feast on enthusiasm.
Fast from suspicion; feast on truth.
Fast from thoughts that weaken; feast on promises that inspire.
Fast from shadows of sorrow; feast on the sunlight of sincerity.
Fast from idle gossip; feast on purposeful silence.
Fast from problems that overwhelm; feast on prayer that undergirds.
Fast from instant gratifications; feast on self denial.
Fast from worry; feast on divine order.
Trust in God.
And finally, fast from sin; feast on the abundance of God’s mercy.

Let’s begin here: Lord, give us the courage to step out of the boat, to go beyond the minimal trappings of lent “sacrifices” and find opportunities to be more for you and bolder in our walks of faith.

Bonus Track: Here’s a song I wrote many years ago with my friend Jim Russell and performed with my band, Nathanael’s Creed. It’s called “Step Out of the Boat.”

Money, Money Everywhere and Not a Buck to Spend

Steve · February 3, 2025 · 1 Comment

Here’s a question for you: What’s a bar with no name in the middle of nowhere with approximately 90,000 one-dollar bills stapled to its ceiling and walls really worth?

The past two weeks, Sue and I have been escaping the Midwest winter cold in the Florida Keys. Saturday, after a week in Key West, we were driving back toward the mainland with a planned stop in Key Largo for another week. An audio touring app we were using suggested a short side trip on Big Pine Key to a place called the No Name Pub. As the pub’s website says, “It’s a nice place if you can find it.”

We thought it sounded like a nice diversion (as if we needed a diversion from the beauty of driving along the 113-mile U.S. 1 Overseas Highway that runs the length of the Keys), so we exited as instructed and followed the app’s disembodied voice out onto the backroads of Big Pine Key, where we even caught a glimpse of some of the iconic and diminutive “key deer” that call the island home.

We pulled up in front of the pub, where a sign confirmed for us that we had, indeed, found it. Inside, as we had been told, every conceivable square inch of wall and ceiling was covered in autographed one-dollar bills. According to the app, there was an estimated 90,000 of them, deposited there by grateful barflies over the past 30 years or so. My head started to spin.

The whole thing prompted a conversation in my head about the worth of the building. Was it really worth $90,000 more than its real estate value? Were the bills still legal tender when written all over? Do the owners of the pub periodically take some of the bills down and then allow it to fill back up? Were they raising money for a good cause? Just what is the purpose and plan here? Inquiring minds needed to know! I sent a photo to my friend John (a retired banker) who questioned what the $90K in flammable paper might do to insurance rates. Imagine it all going up in flames!

According to an article I read on the bar’s website, there’s no purpose, no scheme, no underlying cause beyond the obvious. It’s just a celebration of a good thing. The owner of the pub doesn’t feel like the money belongs to him, and there are no plans for periodic removal. The money just “is,” a gift from those who pass through, a sign of appreciation for a cold beer and a hot pizza in the midst of a long drive. I think maybe he’s on to something.

The “stuff” of our lives is so often held up and measured by its monetary cost and perceived economic value, like many a photo I saw in Key West of Papa Hemingway with one of his prized trophy marlins. My initial thought of calculating the value of the bar was perhaps natural but it was the wrong question. Sometimes we are meant to just sit back and enjoy a cold one while contemplating the collective generosity of those who have come before us and left something behind.

And I think to myself, “what a wonderful world.” It would be a good place to be if we could find it.

What’s in Your Suitcase?

Steve · January 19, 2025 · 2 Comments

In an interview this morning on CBS Sunday Morning (always a part of my Sunday morning routine before I head off to church), veteran actor Steve Guttenberg told of his harrowing and narrow escape from his Los Angeles-area neighborhood that was hit hard by the Palisades wildfire, leaving desolation in its wake.

Putting himself in danger, Guttenberg stayed in his neighborhood as the fire raged, helping his neighbors and moving cars so emergency vehicles could get through. At the end of the interview, Guttenberg reflects on an image of his neighbors, fleeing the fire with their most important possessions:

“The truth is,” he said, “no matter how big your house is, no matter how much money you have or how expensive your car, at the end of it you’re walking down the street with a little suitcase of a few things you saved, and you’re looking for someone to tell you where to go, right?”

The story, like so many we have heard over the past few weeks, led me to consider the question: What would go in my suitcase if fire (or tornado or rising water) was bearing down on me? There are practical considerations, of course, like important legal documents and maybe some treasured photographs or family heirlooms, things that just can’t be replaced. But beyond those few essentials, what matters?

In the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola, we are challenged over and over to consider what is most important and valuable to us. In the meditation called “The Two Standards,” we are asked to consider the opposing values of Christ and the evil one by imagining ourselves standing under the “standard,” or the “banner” of Christ, on a wide medieval plain that also holds the banner of evil. We are asked to consider where we would stand. Now that might seem like an easy call for a person of faith. We’re going with Christ, right? Simple decision.

But it’s more difficult and complex than that. For the enemy doesn’t say, “come stand with me over here on the side of evil.” Rather, he says, “come stand with me over here, under the banner of wealth, comfort, honor and esteem.” That’s a lot more attractive, and the allure of those things can lead us into the realm of pride. It’s a way of living, writes my friend Fr. Joe Tetlow, SJ, that eventually leads us to acclaim: “Look at all the stuff I have! Look at me with all this stuff! Look at me!”

Christ asks us to take the opposite approach in this meditation — he calls us to embrace a poverty of spirit, a self-giving and dignified humility,” says Fr. Kevin O’Brien is his version of the Spiritual Exercises titled “The Ignatian Adventure.” The gentle Christ wants only what is best and life-giving for us. He wants to liberate us from our stuff so we can love and serve God and all those around us. For if we’re holding on to our stuff so tightly that we can’t open our hands, there’s no way we can help others.

Material wealth and comfort are not evil in themselves, of course. But when all of our focus, passion and time is given over to them, something is out of whack. We need to question our motives and our priorities. We need to ask, as O’Brien suggests (and I paraphrase):

Am I generous with what I have?
Do my wealth, comfort and possessions get in the way of other priorities?
How attached am I to my stuff?
How does my stuff define me?

Or maybe we should ask: At the end of the day, when the fires rage or the water rises: What’s in my suitcase?