Dear Maria, Maybe you could start a new organization called “over-achievers anonymous”; you could be the founder, president, and CEO.  Your intense preoccupation with “success” (and with making sure that everyone knows you have succeeded) would easily qualify you for it.  A lot of your unhealthy anxiety (“stress” I think you call it) stems from that.  Don’t get me wrong, we all want to do something worthwhile with our lives; that is a positive impetus.  But there are different ways to measure “worthwhile,” and I fear you are beginning to use a false yardstick. Reflect a little bit on the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Here was the most perfect creature who ever lived (Jesus, remember, was not a “creature”).  In mind, body, and soul she was undisturbed by original sin and the selfish tendencies, weaknesses, and ignorance it leaves us with.  She lived in uninterrupted union with God and unparalleled intimacy with Jesus Christ.  In every way, she reached the pinnacle of true human greatness.  And yet, she enjoyed none of the privileges of wealth, fame, or power that this world offers.  She remained a working-class woman, mother, and wife (and then widow) throughout her life.  Only at the very end, when she completed her mission (we don’t know if she actually died, or if God simply took her up to heaven – there are traditions alleging both possibilities), did we get a glimpse of this greatness: she was taken into heaven in body and soul, and reigns there now as Queen Mother, beside her Son, the eternal King.  Since then miracles, apparitions, and devotions have contributed to the Church’s recognition of her unique role in the history of salvation.  But while she was on earth, she was satisfied to seek recognition only from God, striving always to please him through the heartfelt fulfillment of his will.  Her humility, energetic obedience, sincere prayer, and trust didn’t fill her cabinet with trophies and awards, but it won her top honors in heaven. Likewise, my promising young niece, you should strive first to please God and advance his Kingdom; let him take care of all the rest. God bless, Uncle Eddy

Dear Beasley, I hope you’re ready for your senior year; it’s bound to be a roller coaster ride.  Would you mind if I gave you a bit of avuncular advice? Learn to be invisible. Seriously.  Invisibility will be your best ally this year. You have a bunch of high profile leadership positions, and your constant temptation will be to draw attention to yourself and feed your ego.  That’s what we call spiritual suicide. The alternative? Be like Christ – a leader who leads by serving. Stay focused on concrete objectives that you want each of those organizations to achieve, and decide right now that it doesn’t matter who gets the credit for them.  If you can do that this year, successfully maneuvering through that minefield of potential megalomania, you will have set yourself a steady course for a bright, fruitful, and holy future. You don’t have to be prominent and celebrated to be a saint; you just have to be a saint, to be a saint. Take today’s saint, for instance.  We know basically nothing about him.  Supposedly he was a priest who resisted the Arians (remember them? Heretics who denied Christ’s divinity, among other things), celebrated Mass in secret, and died in prison for his faith.  But most of that is highly doubtful. What we do know for sure is that he founded one of the early Roman parish churches, which everyone subsequently called by his name. Soon after his death, a devotion to him sprang up, and he was annually commemorated in the church he had built, and… well, that’s about it.  When we get to heaven, he may have one of the biggest mansions in town, and yet here on earth he was barely a blip on the historical radar screen. So, my talented and privileged nephew, bury your many gifts and opportunities in the fertile soil of humility and hard work, and don’t expose them to the scorching rays of vanity and self-importance.  You will do more for the Kingdom if you keep the Kingdom first. Respectfully your Uncle, Eddy

Dear Cassie, To be completely honest, I am glad you have decided to go through with graduate school.  I have confidence that you will come to honor the noble profession of teaching by spreading a sincere love for truth among all your students.  Teaching is an inherently honorable profession, though not without its dangers. Chief among these are pride and vanity. In just a couple of weeks, you will begin having undergraduate students under your care.  You will know more than they do, and they will look up to you, and you will have to make an effort to stay humble. From the other direction, you will be assailed by professorial intrigue, as peers compete with you for recognition (and tenure) and accomplished scholars vie for your allegiance.  It will take a conscious and constant effort to hold fast to your Christian principles of honesty and charity amidst the academic fray. Take a lesson from today’s saint. The man was a Christian grammar teacher in northern Italy.  He taught kids how to read and write. Of course, Christianity was not the most popular of creeds back in the 200s, and during one of the many waves of persecution, he was turned in.  When he refused to sacrifice to the pagan gods, the judge condemned him to be stabbed to death by his own students. Back then they used wax-covered tablets for their lessons, and iron rods (pointed on one end and round on the other) to write and erase on the wax.  So they exposed the humble teacher in the town square, armed 200 pagan boys with their “pens,” and stirred them up against St Cassian. It took a while to stab him to death, as the boys made sport of cutting letters out of his skin and similar variations on stabbing, but Cassian encouraged them to be brave and finish the job, since it would only speed his journey to the joys of union with Christ.  His fellow Christians tearfully laid his mutilated remains to rest. When we are faithful to Christ, we always run up against some kind of opposition.  Yours will probably be less barbaric, but it might be even more insidious, so be ready. God bless, Uncle Eddy