Dear Rick, Nothing hurts like a vicious insult.  On second thought, getting your head cut off might hurt even more, though the pain would go away sooner… Forgive me, nephew – such morose topics sometimes distract me here in my artificially lit cubicular prison, especially since getting my head cut off may very well be on my torturers’ to-do list.  But I digress. I wanted to write you to say happy Saint’s Day (you should celebrate with cake and fish stew – if you eat enough cake you won’t be able to eat the fish stew… just kidding, of course; I would never want to turn my relatives in gluttons) and give you some encouragement. You see, you are not the only who has had to suffer insults, mockery, and even violence for the sake of your faith.  As our Lord himself pointed out, “Remember the word I spoke to you, ‘No slave is greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you. If they kept my word, they will also keep yours.” (John 15:20) St Eric of Sweden knew all about it.  When, under the influence of his faith in Christ, he began to put order and justice back in his violent and brutal society (for example, he gave Sweden its first comprehensive legal code), even sending missionaries to evangelize his country’s attackers after vanquishing them in battle, some of his nobles got a bit perturbed.  They conspired with the heir to Denmark’s throne and arranged a brutal murder. They brought an army against him, and as he rode ahead of his own soldiers, they threw him down from his horse, beat him, and lopped off his head. So the next time you have to endure badmouthing and insults (whether to your face or behind your back), ask St Eric to pray for you, so that you can unite your own sufferings to those of our Lord in his passion, and thereby bring more blessings down upon this needy world.  Oh, by the way, St Eric’s messengers had brought him news of the coming attack while he was at Mass the day after the feast of the Ascension. He responded to their urgent warnings by saying, “Let us at least finish the sacrifice: the rest of the feast I shall keep elsewhere.”  There was a man who had his priorities straight. God bless, Uncle Eddy

Dear Bill, If you have been skimping on your prayer time, you have probably also been skimping on your visits to the chapel.  Am I right? Don’t get defensive! Take a deep breath, calm down, take it easy… This is normal. No one ever really taught you how to keep first things first, so it is no surprise that you aren’t doing it.  This Uncle, though, won’t stand idly by as you get sucked into the very well named “rat race” of modernity. Look, if your relationship with God is the key to your life’s meaning, happiness, and peace (which it is, no matter what those post-modern, deconstructionist professors might tell you – the proof is in the pudding, as they say), you have got to keep it first on your list of priorities.  Therefore, that little Catholic chapel, as unappealing to you as its architecture may be, is your secret key to lasting efficiency. Let me remind you what is in there: God. Yep. Jesus Christ has chosen to accompany us on our earthly trek in many ways, the most remarkable of which is the Eucharist, the body, blood, soul, and divinity of the Son of God himself under the appearances of bread and wine.  The living flame of the little candle next to the box (Tabernacle) in that chapel is a reminder of this silent, living presence of our Savior. He is there. Your creator. Your Redeemer. The one who knows you, who loves you, who wants to lead you to “life in abundance” (John 10:10)… But there you go, rushing around from physics class to fencing practice, from drama class to dinner meetings – way too busy to drop in and have a conversation with God.  Rather unfortunate, eh? A quick look at today’s saint might help you recalibrate. Paschal was a Spanish peasant.  A shepherd for the first 24 years of his life.  Taught himself how to read and write, in order to have access to a prayer-book.  From early on he was graced with a vibrant love for the Eucharist. He longed to go to Mass every day, but, unlike yourself, he was bound to his flock from early morning till late at night.  So at the hour, Mass was being celebrated, he would kneel in the pastures and gaze at the little village church down in the valley and pray, uniting himself spiritually to Christ’s offering being made through the priest’s hands.  When he finally found his vocation and entered the reformed Franciscan convent nearby, he not only edified his brothers by his exemplary virtue, joy, and good humor, but he would frequently miss sleep in order to pray in front of the tabernacle.  In all the snatches of free time between his many convent duties, he could be found in the chapel, speaking with the Eucharistic Lord. This humble shepherd turned religious brother, never even ordained a priest, died when he was only fifty-two, at the very moment that the bell rang to signify the consecration at Mass.  Now he is the Church’s patron of Eucharistic congresses. An example to contemplate, my young nephew, as you hurry past the chapel in your endless (dare I say “mindless”?) frenzy of over-committed and non-prioritized college activity.  You could do a lot worse than squeezing in a few moments to spend with God now, so as to ensure that you will be able to stay with him forever later, in eternity. With love, Uncle Eddy