Generation Faith
-
January 5-12, 2015
With great trepidation I asked permission to sit at the breakfast table with the Rev. Desmond J. Regan, a man more than six feet tall with a thick waft of shock white hair perfectly combed to one side—no trace of a receding hair line—as he sat with one hand clutching a mug of black coffee and turning the page of his newspaper with the other. He read each article carefully, studying the words through a magnifying glass.
-
December 1, 2014
My paternal grandmother, Ruth, was the incarnation of hospitality for me throughout my childhood. As a perpetually hungry growing boy—eager for every fat, carb and casserole laced with cream of mushroom soup I could get my hands on—I developed a deep appreciation for Ruth’s talent for feeding the masses. Meals were always prepared with the possibility of unexpected guests in mind. Families with newborns could expect a steady stream of dinners for weeks.
-
November 17, 2014
The park buzzes with activity as the Mediterranean sun bathes throngs of tourists in warmth. I am leaning against a tree, staring up at the spreading branches. They remind me that I always feel close to God when I examine his creation, and as breathtaking as man-made skyscrapers may be, no human architect could have produced the Alps or the Rockies, or even the winding boughs shading me on this November afternoon. I have often sensed God’s presence strongly...
-
November 10, 2014
My muscles ached and my breath came in shallow jerks. I stood perpendicular to the face of the cliff, a rock-climbing harness round my waist, staring 50 feet down to the ground. This, apparently, was rappelling “Australian style.” Australians, I thought to myself, are nuts.
-
October 27, 2014
Is God real? For some people, the answer is instinctive. They answer in absolute terms, one way or the other. But there are those who, upon reflection, may lean in different directions at different points in their lives, and who may never be able to respond with absolute certainty.
-
September 22, 2014
It happened on the first Sunday I ever spent in my college dormitory, my first residence of my own, away from my family. I was asleep when my alarm went off at exactly 7 a.m. Instead of getting up, I hit the snooze button. This may not seem particularly momentous, but it was a first for me—for the first time in a multitude of Sundays (938, to be exact), I was not being awakened by my mother or called by my father urging me to get ready for the 9 a.m. Mass at...
-
September 15, 2014
I first began to deepen my relationship with God in high school. I attended a small, Catholic, all-boys school sponsored by the Congregation of the Brothers of St. Francis Xavier. As a result, I was always presented with opportunities that encouraged me to explore my faith and reflect on what presence God had in my life.
-
July 7-14, 2014
Some months ago, in honor of Black Catholic History Month, I was asked to speak to my parish about what it means to me to be black and Catholic. While honored, I must admit I felt a little overwhelmed. The request could not have come at a busier time for me. I had just finished four straight nights performing in my school’s fall production of “To Kill a Mockingbird,” a play about Tom Robinson, a character who is wrongfully and unjustly accused of a crime...
-
May 19, 2014
It is 8 a.m. Monday, time for morning prayer. The principal comes on the loud speaker, her voice especially shaky. Everyone knows. Still, I tense up when she says, “Students, come meet me in the gym.” My class gets up and we go. No one in the halls dares to speak one word.
-
May 12, 2014
When I started high school at Walsh Jesuit in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, I was pretty sure I had the whole religion thing down. I grew up in a Catholic family and had attended Catholic schools since kindergarten. I went to Mass every weekend and on holy days, had taken religion classes every day for years and witnessed examples of a strong faith among my family members. What more was there to learn?