I’ve been interested these days in the difference between signs and symbols. Firstly, I think it’s intriguing to consider that there is a difference, when the two are so often thought to be interchangeable. And secondly, since the Church rejects that the Eucharist is a symbol, but affirms that Christ is a sign, an appreciation of the difference promised to lead to a deeper understanding of God through Christ.

It may sound pietistic, or just abstract, but I don’t mean it to be. In fact, the whole point of the priesthood is to incarnate the love of God - to allow it to become a living reality in our towns and parishes - to allow Christ, even now, to become flesh and to dwell among us.

I think it’s okay to say that even after receiving the Eucharist we still want more. Even though Jesus is truly present in Holy Communion, we sometimes imagine we’re the only ones returning to the pews praying embarrassingly, “Thank you, Jesus. But, if I can be entirely honest with You, I’m hoping there’s something more than this.”

The Word that spoke to Moses from the burning bush, “Remove your sandals,” is the same Eternal Word Who came to John the Baptist in the flesh, “whose sandals [he] was not worthy to untie.” Even Moses. Even John the Baptist. History’s greatest men are only great insofar as they have Christ in common.

I’ve been thinking lately about the wisdom of learning things “by heart.” Prayers, for example. Or the Faith itself, the catechism. It’s been said time and again - and I would have said it too until recently - that simply memorizing things is not the same as knowing them. But, I’m not sure that I agree with that anymore.

Waiting on God may be the hardest part of the spiritual life, even though it requires nothing but openness. We’re so accustomed to doing things for ourselves, staying constantly busy about our own projects, that waiting for anything, let alone God, is torturous.

I’d like to look with you toward the season of Lent, which is upon us, offering a sacred time dedicated entirely to remembering the central events of our story, namely, the passion, death, and resurrection of Christ. We’ve heard it before, but let us not swipe so fast. Let us spend at least a few minutes more with Christ this Lent than we will with the often distracting things that vie for our attention.

What is anxiety? You know I’m not a psychologist, but I do have some thoughts about it based on my own experiences. Maybe you’ll recognize something of them in your own. The point I want to make here is that anxiety sets in when I believe my life to be a disconnected series of events, but that belonging to a good story can restore in me a sense of purpose, and with it, peace.