Get Out of the Boat

On Pentecost Sunday at St. Francis de Sales Seminary, Roses for Our Lady held their monthly Holy Hour for Vocations. This particular Holy Hour was unlike any of the others, for we joyously celebrated and honored out spiritual director, Fr. Donald Hying, the Rector of St. Francis de Sales Seminary, who was recently made auxiliary Bishop of Milwaukee. In my spoken tribute to him, I shared this quote from one of his scripture reflections that he writes for the Milwaukee Catholic Herald; this one was from Pentecost 2009. This quote is an Imprisoned in my Bones repost from May 2009-the very early days of this blog-but definitely worthy of repeating, and definitely prophetic for Fr. Don who is now truly stepping into the deep and giving his life over to the Holy Spirit in a new and wondrous way.

"When we, like the saints, set the sail of our life to the mighty wind of the Holy Spirit, we will find ourselves doing things that we could never have imagined, witnessing to Christ in ways that seemed beyond our abilities and engaged in works of evangelization, charity and service that seemed impossible. One thing is certain. When we give our lives over to the Holy Spirit, nothing will ever be safe or dull again. We will find ourselves blown out to the deep water and then Christ will bid us to get out of the boat." Bishop-elect Donald J. Hying

A Three-fold Answer: Joy, Hope and Love by Bishop-elect Donald J. Hying

A reflection on the readings for Sunday, May 29th, 2011: Acts 8:5-8, 14-17, Ps 66:1-3, 4-5, 6-7, 16, 20, 1 Pt 3:15-18, Jn 14:15-21

What great secret explains the amazing growth of the early Church against very daunting odds? Why did this new way of life spread so widely and rapidly, despite persecution, hardship and minimal resources? How did the first Christians back up their proclamation of Jesus as Lord with a transformed life of authenticity? A three-fold answer appears in this Sunday’s Scriptures: joy, hope and love.
















The first reading speaks of the great joy in Samaria as the people experience the healing power of Christ, mediated through the ministry of Philip. The author seems to use the word “joy” on purpose here as the lingering effect of an encounter with the Lord. Pleasure can satisfy our senses for awhile; happiness radiates an existential fulfillment in embracing the purpose of life. Joy pulls us beyond this world into the realm of the Holy Spirit. When we know the unconditional love of God to the depth of our being, when we encounter the gracious mercy of Jesus in the aftermath of serious sin, when the Lord is so real in the sacraments that we are surprised, we know joy. To pursue joy as an end in itself is ultimately fruitless because the focus is still on self-fulfillment. Joy seems to come, rather, as the by-product of a life offered up and given away in radical imitation of Christ’s oblation of self in the Paschal Mystery.

In the second reading, Peter exhorts his listeners to “always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope.” Apparently, then as now, hope can perplex, challenge and disturb. In the face of harsh suffering, unrelenting illness or a sudden death, a superficial optimism quickly crumbles. Hope is made of sturdier stuff because its very foundation is the power and love of the Lord breaking into the swirl of human events. When life forces us to face the mystery of evil or the weight of human weakness, hope can seem foolish, naïve or even insensitive in the midst of so much darkness and pain. But, hope is all the Church has ever had. We dare to believe our faith to be true, Jesus’ promises to be real and the kingdom of heaven our final home. No one can prove any of these things, but hope in the resurrection of Jesus Christ allows a Christian to look death in the face and sing, because God will win out in the end.

The Gospel of John this Sunday speaks of love as an “abiding,” the Son in the Father, we believers in the Son and the Son in us. In love, we come to share in the very life of God who has taken up his dwelling in the depths of our being. Thus, the Christian religion is first and foremost a love relationship, not a moral code or a belief system. How we act and what we believe flow from who we have become in this new divine life.

In his treatise on the Trinity, St. Hilary explains this divine indwelling. “Jesus is in the Father by reason of his divine nature, we are in him by reason of his human birth, and he is in us through the mystery of the sacraments.” When we rest in this Trinitarian Life, who is both within us and beyond us, we understand the true nature of Love, the Love that empties itself out for our conversion and salvation.

With the vivid memories of Jesus’ earthly ministry in their minds, the power of Jesus’ death and resurrection in their hearts and the presence of the Holy Spirit in their lives, the apostles went forth with a fresh boldness to evangelize the world. So convicted were they of the transforming nature of the Gospel message that they literally dedicated the rest of their lives to proclaiming Jesus to everyone they encountered. The truth of their words was confirmed by the joy, hope and love that radiated from their communal life and their individual witness.

We may be tempted to think that things are different now, that the Church is 2000 years old and burdened with the weight of history, no longer fresh and new. But what are two millennia in the eyes of God? Wasn’t it just last week that Mary Magdalene ran down the path to breathlessly tell the astonished apostles that the tomb was empty? Wasn’t it just the day before yesterday that the apostles burst forth from the Upper Room on Pentecost Day to speak of a world suddenly redeemed and different? Recently a colleague was commenting on the blessings and challenges of ministry in the Church today. She offered, “What is the point of doing any of this if we are not radiating joy, hope and love as we do it?” I could not agree more!

1. What robs you of joy and hope? How can you change that?
2. If we truly believe the Trinity dwells within us, what does that conviction demand of us?
3. Think of a person whose joy and hope has bettered your life. How can you pass on the gift?

(originally published in the May 26th, 2011 Milwaukee Catholic Herald)

May Crowning

The following words are those of Fr. James Kubicki, SJ, the Director of the National Apostleship of Prayer, from his May letter to the Apostles of Prayer:

"Have you ever wondered why May is Mary's month? To answer that question, the famous Jesuit Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote a poem entitled "May Magnificat." Mary is like the spring, he wrote, causing "growth in everything." A mother herself, Mary sympathizes with that "world of good, Nature's motherhood."

The new life springing up all around us this month gives glory to God. So too the new life developing in Mary's womb caused her to rejoice from the time of her conception until the birth of her child. That child, Jesus, is the very "image of the invisible God," St. Paul wrote. Jesus embodied God's endless love for us, and we rejoice in the everlasting life he shares with us.

Also in May comes the joy of First Holy Communions. In that sacrament, Jesus gives his Body and Blood to little ones for the first time. They receive his life. Again, this is only possible because Jesus first took flesh in the womb of Mary."

What better way to honor our blessed Mother during her most special month of May and on the day that is set aside to honor all mothers, than to crown her with roses-both literally and figuratively. Roses for Our Lady will be holding our 31st Annual May Crowning and Eucharistic Rosary Procession on Sunday, May 8th. If you are in the Milwaukee area why not come and join in the celebration!

May Crowning Celebration
Spend Mother's Day with the Blessed Mother!

Sunday, May 8th, 2:00 PM
Archdiocesan Marian Shrine
68th and Stevenson, Milwaukee (2 blocks south of Bluemound Rd.)

Presider: Very Rev. Donald Hying, Rector of St. Francis de Sales Seminary and Roses for Our Lady's Spiritual Director
Assisting Clergy: Fr. James Kubicki, SJ, Fr. Matthew Widder, Deacon Christopher Klusman

First Communicants are encouraged to wear their First Communion attire.

This is an outdoor event- please bring a lawn chair to sit on.
In case of rain, please go to St. Vincent Pallotti-west, 201 N. 76th St.

Sponsored by Roses for Our Lady

A Love Letter to Pope John Paul II

The following letter appeared in the Milwaukee Catholic Herald on April 7, 2005. With the Beatification of Pope John Paul II on May 1st, I asked Fr. Don Hying, the Rector of St. Francis de Sales Seminary in Milwaukee and the author of the letter which was written while he was still pastor of Our Lady of Good Hope Parish in Milwaukee, for his permission to re-print his heartfelt words here, and of course, he generously agreed.





















Dear Pope John Paul,

I've always wanted to write this letter to you, but somehow never took the time, so here I am saying these things as you lay dying. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, I trust you will know and understand them. Likewise, I always wanted to meet you, yet despite my best efforts every time I was in Rome, it never came to be. It doesn't matter now-you are with all of us in the risen Christ.

Where do I begin? Words cannot begin to articulate what you have done for the church, the world, the poor, the dignity of the human person, millions of people and myself. The pundits will speak of your legacy-the countless trips you made, the saints you canonized, the new catechism you issued and the revision of canon law, your role in the collapse of communism and dictatorships, the indelible stamp you have left on the Catholic Church and this world. It's hard to imagine the church without you, the church before you, the church after you. You've been there through it all with us.

Thank you for your radiant faith in the risen Christ whom you have held up as the center of human history and the answer to all of our questions about life. Above all you are an evangelizer, a proclaimer of the Gospel, someone who wanted to embrace the entire world and tell every single person how much God loves us. Your fidelity and perseverance in this endeavor, year after year, stagger the imagination.

Thank you for your courageous defense of human life-the unborn, the elderly, the poor, the disabled, the dying. You have consistently upheld the glory of the human person made in the image and likeness of God. Race, color, religion, creed, poor, rich, none of it made any difference to you because you saw God in every person that you met-you who saw and were seen by more people than anyone in human history. You spoke and lived the Gospel of Life, regardless of resistance to it.

Thank you for your proclamation of freedom and truth that you spoke to power, whether it was the communist officials in Poland who trembled in your presence, the rich and comfortable in the U.S., the Duvaliers in Haiti, the Marcoses in the Phillipines or the dictatorships in the Americas-you were fearless. That courage broke down walls that seemed impenetrable, crushed oppression that felt unbreakable. You let the splendor of truth shine on the whole world and called everyone to the highest of ideals, never settling for comfort or complacency.

Thank you for your unswerving commitment to social justice. You went to the United Nations, the halls of power, the slums and barrios of the Third World, Mother Teresa's home for the dying, the White House, shacks and palaces to tell everyone that workers and the poor, children and the disabled, the elderly and the sick all had rights which could not be violated. In your vision of the world, there was enough food, medicine, justice and joy for all of God's children-every single one.

Thank you for your belief in young people. I once was one of them who heard your call to the priesthood over the radio one Sunday at 3 a.m. as I scrubbed greasy chicken fryers at my first restaurant job. In many ways, I owe my priesthood to you. The idea of World Youth Day was a stroke of genius and young people by the millions have flocked to your side, seeing in your radical Gospel call an authentic way to live our life abundantly. How many vocations like mine were fathered into being by you? Thank you for believing in us and for calling us to greatness.

Thank you for your joy, your smile, your incredible love for the church, your ecumenical gestures, the saints you have held up for us, your tender devotion to the Blessed Virgin, your love for language and poetry, your courage in the face of constant death threats, your love for nature and sports, your fidelity to the task at hand until the moment of death, your gracious example of how to suffer, age and surrender all into the merciful heart of Christ. The world will never see your likes again.

In many ways, I will find it difficult to go on without your booming voice of love, your courageous example of faith and the confidence that you gave all of us. But you have told us from the beginning of your pontificate to not be afraid but simply follow the risen Christ. With your example and prayers to show us the way, the blazing path of holiness lies before us. Thank you for being you, because you helped me to be me, the me that God wants me to be. As we pray for you, please pray for us before the glory of God's throne. I never talked to you here on earth, but if Jesus lets me into heaven, we'll see each other there. I have so much to say to you. I love you, Pope John Paul!

--Fr. Don Hying

Celebrating the Strangest Things by Fr. Don Hying

This week, the strangest thing will occur. Millions of Christians throughout the world will gather to honor the humiliation, torture and crucifixion of Jesus Christ. In a global culture that usually celebrates power, strength and beauty, this public reverence of something so horrific is always a little shocking. Could it be that what so many people find absolutely compelling about the Passion narrative is the vulnerability of God?

In the Christ event, God leaves the safety and glory of heaven, in a sense, and embraces the limitations of our human condition, coming to know, in the flesh, both the glory and the tragedy of our nature without ever sinning. In the last week of his life, Jesus completely hands himself over to us. In the foot washing and the Eucharist, in the scourging and the crucifixion, the Son of God loves us completely, without restrictions, conditions or limits. Whether we accept, reject or ignore this Divine Love, Jesus does not change his stance towards us.

In Roman and Greek mythology, the gods are always scheming to manipulate humanity to serve their often-selfish ends and ego-driven schemes. In Christ, we encounter the startling subversion of this oppressive game. God serves us! In total humility, availability, vulnerability and mercy, God has come to love, forgive and save us. The weakness of the cross, the simplicity of the Eucharist, the shock of the foot washing, the love that seeks to embrace a traitor, a thief and a coward is so far beyond the competition of power politics, the whirl of social hubris and the grasp of worldly striving, that it takes our breath away. No wonder that kings will stand speechless in the presence of the Suffering Servant, as Isaiah proclaims.

If God could become that poor, vulnerable and humble to love me, then how can I ever stand on my self-importance? This week we celebrate the strangest things - weakness becomes strength, love conquers fear, wretched despair gives way to resurrected hope and never-ending death is swallowed up by eternal life - and it’s all because a naked criminal was thrown down on a cross 2000 years ago and he embraced it as if it were his marriage bed.

Fr. Don's post originally appeared on the Archdiocese of Milwaukee website.

picture source: Vatican website/Stations of the Cross

Opening Our Weakness

Since I am so often inspired, challenged and moved by the words of one of my dearest friends, Fr. Don Hying, the Rector of St. Francis de Sales Seminary, I have asked him to become a regular contributor to Imprisoned in my Bones. Because he is a man who always says yes, thereby modeling the generosity of Christ, he will be sharing his wonderful writings here more frequently. He regularly writes a column for the Seminary supporters called "New Heart, New Spirit" and what follows is his most recent edition:

In the Office of Readings for Monday of the Third Week of Lent, Saint Basil the Great writes: “Boasting of God is perfect and complete when we take no pride in our own righteousness but acknowledge that we are utterly lacking in true righteousness and have been made righteous only by faith in Christ.”

Every time I make my commitments for Lent, I know that I am setting myself up for failure! Sooner or later, I am not going to perfectly fulfill my zealous promises on Ash Wednesday to pray, fast and give alms with greater generosity and depth. The penance of Lent seems to open up our weakness on purpose, to encourage us to both embrace a spiritual ideal that is beyond our grasp and to console us when we fail along the way. Wouldn’t it be easier to just set our sights lower, so that we would fall closer to the ground?

In his quote, St. Basil reminds us that we need to radically get in touch with our sinfulness and weakness, to experience the collapse of our self-sufficiency, to feel the pain of our moral failures, to taste the bitterness of plans defeated, so that we can come more fully to faith in Christ as the One who loves, redeems, forgives and clothes in righteousness.

What can be said of Lent can probably be said of seminary formation as well. A man preparing for the priesthood is challenged on so many levels to grow and be formed anew in Christ. The seminary will call him to allow these years of intense preparation to mold and shape his intellect, prayer, manners, morals, sexuality, punctuality, management skills, ability to communicate, emotions and thoughts. This process is a tall order and no one does it perfectly.

Precisely where seminary ideals and human weakness intersect can be found the mercy of God! Knowing both our strengths and weaknesses well, we can thank God for the gifts we have received and humbly rely on Him in our imperfections. God always chooses earthen vessels to accomplish His will in this world. Both Lent and the seminary call us to shoot for the stars, in terms of sanctity, but also remind us that only the grace, mercy and righteousness of Christ can actually carry us to that sacred place Jesus calls the Kingdom of God.

Once we get what Basil is talking about, our life can become a balance of self-acceptance and self-challenge, always striving for a deeper embrace of the devout life, yet knowing that we will continue to sin. Is this steady climb of rising and falling not an extension of Jesus’ journey to Calvary, a place of death, but ultimately the strange and wonderful spot of final victory?

Depth Perception-Fr. Don Hying

I'm looking deeper within my soul this year trying to come to a peaceful acceptance of the life that God has given me in both the blessings and the burdens. One of the blessings that God often uses to help me look deep within myself is my good friend, Fr. Don Hying, the rector of St. Francis de Sales Seminary in Milwaukee. Through his words of wisdom I see myself a little more clearly, I understand myself a little bit better, and gradually I am growing into a deeper acceptance of myself while falling more deeply in love with God. Once again, Fr. Don generously shares his words of wisdom, his scriptural reflection on this Sunday's gospel (Jn 9:1-41), from his most recent Catholic Herald column, with Imprisoned in my Bones readers.



The post-communion song at a wedding I celebrated recently was titled: “If you could see what I see.” The singer ardently wishes that his beloved could see herself as he sees her, because she is so beautiful, authentic and good, but then comes to realize that she can only come to see and know herself through his eyes and perception, as long as he keeps telling her who he sees and how that feels to him.

Today’s Gospel is the moving narrative of the man born blind who is healed by Jesus. Last week was the woman at the well; next week is the raising of Lazarus. These three narratives from John’s Gospel are models of conversion, using the images of water, light and new life and serve as profound reflections both for the catechumens preparing for baptism and the entire Church in this season of Lent. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus repeatedly heals blind people, not only of their physical disability but, more to the point, their lack of spiritual vision.

Our world today is becoming increasingly visual, from posting pictures on Facebook to streaming video on the Web to visualized conversations that are texted. Yet, we can easily remain on the superficial plane of the exterior of things, accepting at face value what we rapidly perceive, but never lingering long enough to dig below the surface of the images that others present to us. Depth perception requires prayer, silence and reflection.

If we just skim along the top layer of Catholicism, the Eucharist becomes a sentimental symbol, the Scriptural stories of Christ become like bedtime tales, and the moral life a naïve and unreachable ideal. If our heart and spirit is not moving ever more deeply into the vast mystery of God, our religious practice quickly becomes an empty ritual that we eventually put in a drawer along with our faded First Communion pictures and broken childhood rosaries.

I know when I am giving prayer short shrift in my life because I stop seeing, truly perceiving the miraculous truth, stunning beauty and overwhelming goodness that surround me. When I go on retreat at New Melleray Abbey, a Trappist monastery in rural Iowa, having stepped away from the ceaseless routine, I immediately see everything in a different light. The sunrise becomes a cosmic event, filled with pulsating light; the birds in the trees are performing a symphony better than any concert hall can offer and the food tastes spectacular because I am actually taking the time to enjoy it.

In reading the lives of Saint Camillus and Saint John of God, two remarkable servants of the sick, I have always been fascinated and inspired by their ability to literally see Christ in the people they served, the more repulsive the better. Their spiritual vision of the Lord in the suffering has a palpability to it, a tangibility that saves it from being a pious thought. The saints loved so astoundingly and sacrificially because they saw the world from God’s perspective. Standing in the dazzling light of Christ, they saw life and death, good and evil, the beauty, tragedy and possibility of the human person in such vivid colors, that they felt their experiences with a passion that we can barely comprehend, and thus did the heroic and bold thing.

Is my vision improving this Lent? Is Sunday Eucharist a consummation of God’s love in my soul? Do I see the beautiful possibilities in the people around me or only their problems and faults? Underneath the thousand details that make up the surface of my life, am I embracing a deep interiority of prayer that, every once in awhile, leads me to the very heartbeat of God? Am I coming to literally see Christ in the poor, the sick, the Mass, the Gospel, the rising of the sun, and my own little life?

In the first reading, Samuel anoints David as king, much to the astonishment of his family. Then he says, “Not as man sees does God see, because man sees the appearance but the Lord looks into the heart.” Through faith, prayer and the sacraments, Jesus gradually heals our vision, to see as He sees and then to become an extension of His love and presence in the world.

A Story From the Abortion Mill by Fr. Don Hying

~A Guest Post~

Late last Saturday morning, a group of us went to pray at the abortuary on Farwell Avenue. Usually, I go earlier in the day when pregnant women are entering the building and the pro-abortion escorts are stationed in front to keep the clients from talking to us. At 11 AM, the escorts were gone because all of the women were already inside. One by one, the women came out, walking slowly, looking dazed, holding a brown bag, gingerly entering their boyfriend’s car and driving away. It was heartbreaking, like watching a steady stream of casualties returning from some gruesome and hidden front, where the invisible violence could only be read on the bodies of the survivors.

After praying a rosary and a Chaplet of Divine Mercy, we were thinking about leaving when suddenly a woman who has worked at the abortion mill for years in some form of management came driving up in her Jaguar, dashed inside and emerged moments later. As she passed me, I spoke in a quiet and calm voice, “Stop killing people here!” She turned on me in a visceral and hysterical rage, shouting about priests abusing little boys, calling me “pathetic”, enraged by my promise to pray for her and finally giving me the finger as she drove away.

What impressed me about such a brief and disturbing incident was the startling fact that the woman never denied that she was indeed helping to kill people or that what I said was in any way false. Unable to articulate any cogent or logical response to my quiet demand, she responded with hysteria, obscenity and ad hominem assaults. The immediate reaction of rage and hate, shorn of any logic or sense, led me to see how weakened the abortionist position has become. With the women’s care center across the street, growing numbers of people who identify themselves as pro-life and new legislative momentum the folks at Affiliated see the power of their pro-death stance weakening.


With the 40 Days For Life starting this Ash Wednesday, now is the time for us to give public witness to our belief in the sanctity of nascent life. The abortionists want their deeds to go unseen, unnoticed and unchallenged. By our public prayer and presence, we shine the light of God on a very dark place.

North Star-A Guest Post by Fr. Don Hying

"Through all nights, all voids, all helplessness, I want to gaze on You always and remain in Your great light. O my beloved Star, so fascinate me that I may not withdraw from your radiance." Elizabeth of the Trinity














I am fortunate to have the friendship of good and holy priests; bright lights who flicker and shine and glisten with the spark of divine wisdom, and who lead me to the only Light who can sustain me.

What follows is a reflection from my very dear friend, Fr. Don Hying, the Rector of St. Francis de Sales Seminary in Milwaukee, who is a holy beacon of brilliance for many up and coming future priests. Because of the efforts of Fr. Don and the Seminary staff, the lives of these priests-to-be will shine brightly like so many glimmering stars, leading many souls to holiness; to heaven. Fr. Don's reflection is based on the Gospel of Matthew 7:21-27 for Sunday, March 6th and is followed by my own response of prayer to his meaningful words.

To say that we live in anxious times would be an understatement. Whether we look at the global, national or local situation, the institutions, structures or certainties that people have relied on for security seem to be crumbling. Politics, religion, economics, education, technology and society are in the midst of a difficult ferment. Something new is emerging, but we cannot say yet what that might be. So much uncertainty creates stress and fear.

In the middle of this existential crisis comes this Sunday's Gospel, the conclusion to Jesus' great Sermon on the Mount in Matthew, the parable of the house built on rock versus the one built on sand. So after proclaiming the highest ideals concerning fasting, almsgiving, forgiveness, prayer, dependence on God, refraining from judgment, Jesus sums it all up by calling his listeners to put into practice everything they have heard.

I love to study church history, especially the times of persecution, trial and upheaval. The early era of martyrdom, the collapse of the Roman Empire, the Reformation, the French Revolution, the rise of Nazism and communism were all moments when the church faced profound crises that seemed to threaten its very existence. Yet, in the midst of violence, betrayal, institutional breakdown, loss of faith, and even death itself, saints emerged, courageous people who had built their houses on the rock of Christ and his church, and thus served as pillars of strength, hope, renewal and reform in times of great darkness and confusion.

Perpetua and Felicity suffered martyrdom in the persecution of Septimus Severus at Carthage in 203. They embraced an unspeakable series of tortures, culminating in a terrible death by being thrown to wild beasts. These remarkable women not only endured such horror, but actively rejoiced in it.

John Fisher was the only English bishop who would not submit to Henry VIII when the king rejected the pope as the head of the church. He paid for his integrity with a long prison stay in the Tower, followed by a beheading. After the Reformation, a dynamic group of leaders emerged in different places, working for renewal within the church. Ignatius of Loyola, Teresa of Avila, Charles Borromeo, Francis de Sales and Jane Frances de Chantal come to mind.

During the French Revolution, a convent of cloistered nuns at Compiegne went to the guillotine singing, rejecting the rabid secularity of the new government. Interned at Auschwitz, Maximilian Kolbe was a bright light of faith, hope and love for countless prisoners in one of the most hellish places in history.

This Gospel and these saints remind us that Christ is literally the only security we have in this world. Wealth, success, health, a long life, a happy marriage, employment-none of these things are guaranteed or promised to us, and therefore, we cannot put our ultimate trust in them. Jesus' love for us, his promise of salvation, the consolation of the Eucharist, the enduring power of the Word of God, the truths of our Catholic faith-these mysterious gifts constitute our North Star, that one, sacred, fixed point which will guide us securely to the Kingdom of Heaven. (emphasis mine)

How do we build our house on the rock of Christ? Regular, active participation in the Eucharist, a steady recognition of our sins in the sacrament of reconciliation, daily prayer, service to the poor and sick, spiritual reading, the faithful practice of virtue, living our faith in the world as we find it-all of these activities set the house of our fragile human existence on the unshakable foundation of Jesus Christ. When the storms come, we will not collapse, because we are grounded and centered in the Lord of life.

When everything we have clung to for security crumples up and blows away, and we are left bereft and broken, we can only cling to Jesus and his promise that he will be with us always until the end of time. That assurance is the only thing that will get us through everything and let us even find some joy along the way!

*********************************************

O love of Jesus, warm my path in the cold dark night, draw me into your embrace.
O promise of Salvation, brighten my days,assure me of the hope of heaven.
O consolation of the Eucharist, comfort me with your luminous balm.
O enduring power of the Word of God, linger in my heart; strengthen my fortitude.
O truths of my Catholic faith, enlighten my mind to the depths of your wisdom.
O mysterious gifts of the North Star, illuminate my entire being, make me shine for You.
Amen.

"Look to Him that you may be radiant with joy and your face may not blush with shame." Psalm 34:5

(Fr. Don's reflection originally appeared in the March 3rd edition of the Milwaukee Catholic Herald)

Humble Presentation/Guest Post-Fr. Don Hying

It seems that I am in a continual battle with myself; just when I really think I'm somebody special, full of puffed-up pride and self-proclaimed importance, God loosens the leg on that wobbly stool of falsehood upon which I sit. Soon, I am tottering down to the floor as I am brought to remember that I am really a weak and small human being, one who makes frequent mistakes, wears her foot in her mouth far too often and is really very ordinary and simple, meant to be the servant of others; not the one being served. I am called to follow the example of our Lord and to make a humble presentation of myself before God and others.

This past Sunday's readings (Zep 2:3; 3-12-13, Ps 146:6-10, 1 Cor 1:26-31, Mt 5:1-12a) were a great example of the joy that can be found in embracing the ordinary and simple life, and my friend, Fr. Don Hying, has graciously allowed me to share his reflection on those readings. As you prayerfully read his words and consider their meaning in your life, I ask you to also include a prayer for Fr. Don, himself a model of humility. Today, the feast of the Presentation of the Lord, is his special day on the Monthly Prayer Request for Priests calendar in Milwaukee.

When the great and powerful army of the British Empire surrendered to General Washington and the rag-tag Continental troops at Yorktown, Virginia, Lord Cornwallis ordered his military band to play a tune entitled “The World Turned Upside Down.” Who would ever have imagined at the beginning of the Revolutionary War that a group of weak and disunited colonies would defeat the most powerful military force in the world?
That dynamic of the minority, the marginal, the weak, the least expected one somehow emerging from the bottom and becoming God’s chosen instrument to bring about the victory of salvation, mercy and freedom is abundantly present in the Scriptures. Abraham and Sarah are too old to bear children. Moses stutters. David is too young and unimportant to even be present at the feast. Mary is an unknown virgin from an obscure village. The apostles are fishermen, tax collectors or political zealots. God chooses the nobodies of this world to bear the triumph of his love.

In today’s first reading, Zephaniah proclaims that the Lord will leave a faithful remnant of people, humble, lowly, small and poor. In the second reading, Paul reminds the Corinthians that they are not wise, powerful or noble and yet God has precisely chosen them to humble the proud, to reduce all human pretension, to show forth a new kind of power that only loves and serves rather than oppresses and shames. The Gospel is the familiar account of the Beatitudes where Jesus calls blessed the poor, the sorrowing, the meek, the merciful and those who suffer for the sake of righteousness.

Only those who have lived on the margin, experienced minority status of some kind, suffered in the dark, have had their hearts broken, watched their world fall apart, been pushed aside and ignored can taste the joy of Jesus’ beatitude. When we are complacent, satisfied, self-sufficient, insulated and powerful, it becomes so difficult to realize how much we need God and to let him act in our lives. As St. Augustine writes, those who have had their hearts torn up by the roots can know the mercy and truth of the Almighty.

How often and how painfully do I need to learn the lesson of the Beatitudes! In my human vulnerability, I seek security, popularity, money, certainty, status and comfort to cover over my poverty and fear. Time and again, the Lord allows life to strip me of what I so desperately cling to, so that I can grasp anew the fundamental paradox of the Gospel. I must be emptied out of self so that God can fill me. I must feel the despair of spiritual darkness so that I search for the light of Christ. I must be thrown on some cross of poverty and pain so that I can taste the sweetness of the resurrection. I must sense the dreadful absence of God in my sin so that I can cast myself on his mercy.

How exhausting it is always striving to be somebody in the eyes of the world, needing to impress, influence, be noticed. We step closer to the radical freedom of Jesus when we seek to be hidden in him, to be enveloped in his heart, to be part of the silent and often unnoticed torrent of divine love which nourishes the world. John the Baptist got it right when he said about Christ: He must increase and I must decrease. Humility sets us free to be our true selves, a reality both greater and smaller than we often imagine ourselves to be.

Almost 1800 years before the British surrender at Yorktown, an unknown pregnant girl exulted in a poetic proclamation that sang of a world turned upside down. In her Magnificat. Mary understands well that God always subverts the proud, the satisfied, and the pretentious by breaking in from the margins with unexpected grace and power, in ways often unexpected. The baby growing in her womb was the Word made flesh. Who could have ever guessed?

1. Emily Dickinson, a premier American poet, wrote: “I’m nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there’s a pair of us—don’t tell! They’d banish us, you know.” In light of the second reading, what does Dickinson’s writing mean?

2. How have you experienced being marginalized? How do you see God’s grace in such moments?

Becoming Different

On this wonderful Marian Feast Day of the Immaculate Conception, when many are consecrating themselves to Jesus through Mary, I thought it would be fitting to share something I learned from my own re-consecration last October. I was struck by the words of Fr. Don Hying, the day's presenter. He began by reading this passage from True Devotion to Mary by St. Louis de Montfort:

"But who shall those servants, slaves and children of Mary be? They shall be the ministers of the Lord, who, like a burning fire, shall kindle the fire of divine love everywhere. They shall be 'like sharp arrows in the hand of the powerful' Mary to pierce her enemies. (Ps. 126:4). They shall be the sons of Levi, well purified by the fire of great tribulation, and closely adhering to God (1Cor. 6:17), who shall carry the gold of love in their heart, the incense of prayer in their spirit, and the myrrh of mortification in their body. They shall be everywhere the good odor of Jesus Christ to the poor and to the little, while at the same time, they shall be an odor of death to the great, to the rich and to the proud worldlings.

They shall be clouds thundering and flying through the air at the least breath of the Holy Spirit; who, detaching themselves from everything and troubling themselves about nothing, shall shower forth the rain of the Word of God and of life eternal. They shall thunder against sin; they shall storm against the world; they shall strike the devil and his crew; and they shall pierce through and through, for life or for death, with their two-edged sword of the Word of God (Eph. 6:17), all those to whom they shall be sent on the part of the Most High." ~paragraphs 56-57 True Devotion to Mary by St. Louis de Montfort~

Then Fr. Don asked, "Are you ready? This passage is speaking about you. This is the job description of every Christian. To live this is going to cause trouble in your life. It will stir up difficulty; even those close to you will think you're off the deep end. In Hebrew, the word Holy is translated as 'different.' How different are you willing to become in following Jesus?"

My son, Joe, who used to feel the pain my past depression quite keenly, would notice that my tears flowed more freely after I underwent a conversion experience (he called it "turning into a Jesus Freak.") He often questioned why I would suffer so much when I had given my whole heart to the Lord. I found difficulty trying to offer him reassurance until I heard Fr. Don's talk last October. I also found help to respond to his question in the following quote from Caryll Houselander, one of my favorite authors:

"It is the favorite accusation of those who, for reasons of their own, are made uneasy by the sight of someone else's honest attempt to practice Faith, that to save one's own soul is a selfish, egocentric preoccupation which makes one introverted, censorious and withdrawn from other people. In reality the opposite is true. As Christ grows in the soul, suffering and the capacity for suffering increase in the life, and with it the desire to suffer grows, not because of any morbidity, such as masochism; but because if Christ increases, love increases; when the love of God increases, the desire to atone for sin increases, because the lover of man wishes to heal the wounds from which mankind is bleeding to death." ~Caryll Houselander, The Passion of the Infant Christ

So, to Joe, and to others who struggle with the meaning of suffering in the life of a Christian, I echo the words of Fr. Don: "Are you ready? How different are you willing to become in following Jesus?" Let's follow the example of our Blessed Mother and allow the capacity and desire for suffering to increase in our lives as a means of healing the wounds of mankind and of God.

She Leads the Way

At the end of October, my family and I will be enthroning the Sacred Heart of Jesus as King of our home, and consecrating ourselves to His Most Sacred Heart. My good friend, Fr. Jim Kubicki, SJ, the head of the National Apostleship of Prayer which promotes devotion to the Sacred Heart, will be coming to our house to say Mass and to lead the Enthronement and Consecration ceremony. I thought that since this will be such a special and solemn occasion, I should be spending the month preparing by attending prayerful events and by praying to the Sacred Heart of Jesus each day, asking Him to enter into the hearts of my family and I and to draw us ever more deeply into love with Him.

Last Thursday, on the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary, my son Jack and I attended a special Mass and outdoor candlelight procession with the recitation of the rosary to honor our Mother. As we were re-entering the church after the procession, one of the doors would not stay open on it's own, so, since Jack and I were near the front of the line, we stood at the door to hold it open as everyone in the procession stepped into the church. At the end of the procession, my dear friend, Fr. Don Hying, the priest who said the Mass and processed with our Lord was walking past us and I couldn't help but notice how his eyes were fixed on Jesus in the Monstrance which was directly in front of his face.

How wonderful it must be for a priest to hold our Lord directly in front of himself for a full twenty minutes! It's no wonder that Fr. Don's face always seems to have a glow about it when I consider that he spends so much time looking directly at Jesus up close! And the fact that he doesn't trip and fall when he is walking in the dark over cracks in the sidewalk, down curbs and steps, and around corners while his eyes are constantly fixed on Jesus, is truly a miracle in itself!

My sweet and tender Jesus, how beautifully you care for us when we are spending time adoring you! You see to it that no danger will ever befall us as long as we keep our eyes fixed on you!

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Today my sister Diann, and my niece Jenny and I renewed our consecration to Jesus through Mary via St. Louis de Montfort. Upon arriving at the church, I looked in my rear-view mirror and saw that Fr. Don had pulled up right behind me. I was blessed to spend a few minutes in confession with him, and then attend a lovely Saturday morning Mass. The music director at the parish where the Consecration Conference was held chose all Marian music for the Mass and had asked one of the parish cantors to sing "Panis Angelicus" for an after communion meditation. It was breathtaking, and a rare occurrence for a daily Mass!

Just before the consecration, everyone gathered in front of the Shrine of Mary, Queen of Hearts to pray the rosary. Although this is the third year that I have attended this conference, it was the first time that I noticed that in the shrine, Mary is holding a heart blazing with fire. This was significant to me in light of my family's upcoming consecration to the Sacred Heart. I couldn't help but feel that my most beautiful Mother is truly leading me to her Son and His Most Sacred Heart. It is only fitting that today I consecrated myself to Jesus though Her, and later this month, I will be consecrating myself to His Sacred Heart. She really does always lead us to Him, if only we will let Her.

Mary, My Most Beautiful Mother, thank you for always leading us to Jesus and for giving His Most Sacred Heart to us so that the fire of His love will burn within us forever!

Guest Post by Fr. Don Hying

It was last Easter when my wonderful friend, Fr. Don Hying, the Rector of St. Francis de Sales Seminary in Milwaukee, agreed to let me post one of his reflections on this blog. I am so grateful that once again he has given me permission to post another of his reflections. He never fails to help me see scripture in a new and meaningful way and this reflection for the 23rd Sunday of Ordinary time is no exception. I encourage you to enjoy his words and ponder his questions!

Back in 1993, I received a call out of the blue from Don Mueller who was in charge of the World Mission Office at the time, wondering if I would be open to serving in our sister parish in the Dominican Republic. I said I would consider it and he suggested I go down for a week to check it out before making a decision. My visit was very enlightening; I encountered wonderful people, saw the great work of Frs. Jim Schuerman and Kevin Murphy and experienced the Church in another culture in all its richness. But the thing that really scared me was my ignorance of Spanish. I felt I could deal with the poverty and the heat, but realized how difficult and crucial the learning of another language would be. And then other questions started rolling around inside my head. How would I deal with homesickness? Did I really want to leave my current assignment? Would the poverty of the people start to get to me? The implications of such a decision were beginning to sink in. I came home firmly determined to tell Don that I would not serve in La Sagrada Familia Parish. So, when he called me two days later to get my feedback, I shocked myself when I blurted out that I wanted to go to the Dominican Republic after all! Where did that response come from?

In today’s Gospel, Jesus makes the radical demand of renunciation to the crowds following him. No one can be a disciple who does not “hate” his family and his own life, who does not give up all his possessions. Clearly, Jesus is not telling us to hate anyone; he uses such strong language to emphatically make the point that those who choose to follow him must not let any human relationship, material thing, or self-preoccupation get in the way of a total, sacrificial response to Christ and his holy Gospel. In other words, Jesus calls us to step out in faith, to trust that his grace and love will be enough for us, to intentionally close all the other doors of opportunity and walk through the Door himself, as Jesus describes it in the tenth chapter of John’s Gospel.

What does this stepping out in faith look like? All the saints did it. Joseph takes Mary as his wife. John and James leave their nets, boats and father behind. Peter steps out of the boat into the stormy waves and battering wind. The martyrs refuse to worship the Roman emperor and know they will die for it. Thomas More refuses to acknowledge Henry VIII as head of the church and knows he will die for it. Archbishop Romero denounces the El Salvadoran government for its oppression of the poor. Living only for Christ and his holy Gospel always costs something, and at times that “thing” may be our very life.

What does this stepping out in faith look like? We have all done it before. A young couple marries, pledging their radical fidelity for better and for worse. A man kneels down in a cathedral and gives his life to the priesthood of Jesus Christ forever. An archdiocese begins a capital campaign shortly before the economy falters and yet continues. An employee blows the whistle on corruption and loses her job because of it. A woman discovers her baby will be born with severe disabilities but carries the child to term and welcomes him with love. An heiress gives away her fortune to help those of Native and African descent. A father goes to work every day, despite great difficulties in the office.

Christianity often feels like a high-wire act. We must disencumber ourselves of excess weight and baggage or we will never make it across the tent. Imagine a performer walking the high-wire burdened with a heavy backpack. We must gently and flexibly bend in order to maintain a proper balance. We must keep our eyes fixed on Christ who beckons us to step out in faith and believe (we know not how) that he is simultaneously waiting for us at the end of the wire, walking with us as we traverse the terrifying distance and standing down below to catch us when we fall. One who renounces all for Christ loses nothing in the end, but rather, gains a kingdom and hundreds of fathers, mothers, children and friends besides. Step out in faith! God will not disappoint us. My surprising decision to serve in the Dominican Republic ended up being one of the best choices of my life.

1.What has your practice of the Catholic faith cost you?
2.God will use us for good as far and deep as we allow him to. How can you go farther and deeper in your surrender to Christ?

Easter Guest Post by Fr. Don Hying

I've frequently quoted my dear friend, Fr. Don Hying, on this blog. He is a fantastic writer with wisdom in his words that gives me food for thought and always satisfies my hunger for the Lord in one way or another. Fr. Don is the Rector of St. Francis de Sales Seminary in Milwaukee and writes both a monthly newsletter for the Seminary and a monthly column for the Milwaukee Catholic Herald. He is also a frequently requested guest speaker at many Archdiocesan events, and has his own radio program, "New Heart, New Spirit", on our local Relevant Radio Station. Fr. Don has given me a wonderful Easter gift; he has generously agreed to allow me to post his most recent Catholic Herald column on my blog. I am thrilled to share Fr. Don's Easter column with you and I pray that you, dear reader, will find it to be as wonderful and thought provoking as I do. It is my hope that Fr. Don will agree to become a regular guest writer at Imprisoned in my Bones.

Last year I was blessed to go to the Holy Land for the first time; the highlight of the trip was celebrating the Eucharist inside the tomb of Jesus in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. I felt like I was standing at the center of the cosmos, for this was the spot where the greatest event in the history of the world took place!

As we celebrate Easter, the Church goes back in her mind and heart to that extraordinary Sunday morning when, against all expectation, the women find the tomb of Christ empty and breathlessly run back to tell the apostles. The rising of Jesus from the dead is more than the resuscitation of a corpse; having conquered sin and death, the risen Christ now has a glorified and saving relationship with all of humanity and indeed the entire cosmos. Mistaken for a gardener, a ghost, an anonymous traveling companion, he starts appearing to Mary Magdalene, the apostles, the disciples on the road to Emmaus, 500 brothers at once. The risen Christ could not be restrained by locked doors or fearful hearts anymore than a sealed and dark tomb could hold him.

Clearly, from the day of Pentecost until the end of time, the mission of the Church is to proclaim the death and resurrection of Christ as the foundational event of human history, as the definitive salvation won for everyone through the loving plan of the Father, the obedience of the Son and the working of the Holy Spirit. In every proclamation of the Gospel, in every celebration of a sacrament, in every action of charity and mercy, the Church makes present in this time and place, for these people gathered the saving power of Jesus Christ, crucified and risen. The Acts of the Apostles testifies to the extraordinary success of this endeavor, right from the beginning of Christianity.

What are the events in our lives that serve as our spiritual foundation, those experiences that we return to time and time again in order to draw strength, inspiration and energy to move forward? The birth of children, the day of your wedding, a miraculous healing from sickness, the holy death of a loved one, a religious profession or an ordination, an unexpected moment of grace that led to conversion. All of us have those fundamental “peak” encounters with God which serve as guideposts for the rest of our life’s journey home.

The day of my ordination to the priesthood was the second greatest day of my life, (after my baptism which, like most of us, I cannot remember.) God was so real to me that day I could have reached out and touched Him. Whenever I am tired, discouraged, fearful or overwhelmed, I simply go back in my mind and heart to that glorious day and I am renewed. It is like sticking a finger into an electrical socket. The joy, promise, love and energy flow into my body, soul, mind and heart.

What ordination day is for me is what the resurrection of Jesus Christ is for the whole Church, but with one absolutely fundamental difference. We do not simply go back into the recesses of history to discover the risen Christ; he is gloriously alive, present and active in our midst within the mystery of the Church! Last October, in a presentation he gave here at the seminary, Bishop Blaise Cupich of Rapid City, South Dakota offered his assessment of the greatest problem facing the Church and his answer was not the one I was expecting. He didn’t talk about any of the crises reported in the newspapers; instead, he spoke about many Catholics’ fundamental misunderstanding that the risen Christ is truly, actively and gloriously present, right here and now, in our lives. Too often, we think and speak of Jesus as a historical figure who did great things but has passed from the scene.

How different life becomes when we expect the risen Lord to pop up somewhere in our lives every day. Assuredly, we will not recognize Him at first, just like the apostles didn’t. Probably, we will not fully understand what he is truly saying or asking of us. But when we put on the sacred lens of the resurrection, we start seeing Jesus everywhere! In that homeless man on the corner, in the splendor of the rising sun, in the gentle power of the Eucharist, in our family and friends, in the mystical truth of an El Greco painting and perhaps most surprisingly within ourselves. In God’s timetable, 2000 years is the blink of an eye, so it was just the day before yesterday that Mary Magdalene ran down the path with the astonishing news that the tomb was empty. The risen Christ lives, breathes and walks among us and within us. That Gospel should make us get up and dance! A blessed Easter!