Dear Mimie, I am glad you have finally been able to choose a major.  As you know, I was lobbying for it to be philology, but I am not opposed to your choice of sociology.  As your faithful uncle, however, I am obliged to warn you about sociology’s pitfalls, of which there are many.  The one to keep in mind is its tendency to minimize individual moral responsibility. Surveys, statistics, and models of human behavior necessarily focus on general trends and tendencies – often ignoring the powerful influence of individual creativity and depravity.  If according to the latest studies prematurely born children have a significantly higher chance of becoming drug users, that does not excuse any particular person (whether born prematurely or not) from his or her free (and wrong) choice to use destructive and addicting substances as their preferred form of entertainment.  In other words, just because “everyone’s doing it” doesn’t mean everyone should be doing it.   The best antidote for such narrow-minded scientism is a healthy awareness of the reality of sin.  Sin is nothing more (or less!) than making a wrong moral choice, which happens to be a rebellion against God.  Ever since the fall of Adam and Eve, we have all had a tendency to sin; we remain free and responsible for our actions, but vulnerable to temptation (which is one of the reasons Christ bothered to come and save us).  Sin is evil. We shouldn’t sin. And when we do, it has destructive consequences for us and for those around us. Peer pressure, societal momentum, and cultural depravity can at times lessen the level of our responsibility for sin, but we can never excuse ourselves for disobeying and ignoring our conscience. Today’s saint had a very healthy understanding of this simple fact.  His diocese in southeastern France suffered a series of natural calamities (earthquakes, fires, etc.), and he responded by encouraging his people to do penance and ask for God to forgive their sins. (Whether the calamities were “punishments” from God is irrelevant; the mere reality of sin and its undeniably evil consequences needs no signs of divine vengeance to validate it.)  He instituted the minor Rogation Days (three days of fasting and prayerful processions before the feast of the Ascension) to encourage this return to God, with marvelous fruits of holiness and charity throughout the diocese. So effective was this penitential practice that it soon spread throughout Europe, and eventually, the Pope authorized it as a general Christian devotion. Of course, I am not advising you to walk around campus flagellating yourself; but at least you can keep up your good habit of regularly going to confession, and keep on making your Friday sacrifice (in remembrance of the crucifixion, the clearest manifestation of sin’s destructive power) as required by the Church (abstaining from meat is still a very valid way to do this, you know).  In any case, just don’t let those velvet-tongued “experts” convince you that we aren’t responsible for our own behavior. We are. Which is why we are in such need of God’s mercy. Love, Uncle Eddy

Dear Anthony, Heaven will be full of surprises.  Among them will be the truth about history.  You and I, as history lovers, will be much gratified by the heavenly version of our favorite historical moments.  You see, my dear nephew, no matter how hard we try, we simply can’t see the whole story. Our research into the real causes behind historical events and phenomena can only scratch the surface.  In heaven, however, the whole truth will come out. I often think of heaven as a great big film festival, where we all get to watch magnificent films that tell the whole story of everything and everyone.  If we think the great movies down here are entertaining, beautiful, and moving, just wait until we see the ones that God himself has produced! But back to surprises – take today’s saint, for instance. Now, you and I are very familiar with the wonders of Renaissance Florence (I still fondly remember our visit there during the summer European tour I gave you as a high school graduation present; what I wouldn’t give to be able to take such a trip again! …).  It spawned perhaps the greatest flowering of the human spirit ever – Michelangelo, the Medici family, Vasari, Leonardo da Vinci, Blessed Fra Angelico, Botticelli, Brunelleschi… and the list goes on. But when was the last time you heard the name Antonio Pierozzi?  Probably never. History gives little press to the holiest archbishop ever to fill the ancient and influential Florentine See (that means a bishop’s seat of authority). And yet, without the fire of Christian faith that set those Renaissance hearts and minds ablaze with inspiration, do you think we would be able to enjoy all their achievements? St Antoninus entered the Dominican priory there in Florence when he was only 15.  Extraordinarily gifted in mind and spirit, he successively became superior and reformer of the most important priories in Italy: Rome, Naples, Siena, Florence, and others.  All the Popes of the time consulted him nonstop, all the nobles vied for him to preach at their family chapels, and the Renaissance scholars studied his best-selling books. Finally, the Pope appointed him Archbishop of Florence, in spite of the saint’s objections.  Back in his hometown, his tireless attention to the poor and the sick started a tidal wave of charity, his personal example of prayer and simplicity reinvigorated a lackadaisical clergy, and his wisdom and fairness won him diplomatic charges on behalf of the Papacy and the Florentine government alike.   So, as I say, heaven only knows how much this holy man influenced the Florentine achievement.  And heaven only knows how many other marvelous achievements have never made it into our myopic earthly history books.  I guess you and I (and especially you, since your life is just beginning and mine is quickly coming to an obscure conclusion) should keep this in mind; we should strive to make our mark in a Kingdom that will last forever, not in the passing fancies of the nearsighted kingdoms of men. Your uncle always, Eddy

Dear Paco, I was able to see the tape of your debate with the fundamentalists. Quite impressive.  You obviously did your homework. Congratulations. Nevertheless, as your devoted uncle, I have to issue you a sincere warning: your vast knowledge of the faith will do absolutely no good to anyone (not even yourself) unless it is undergirded with an equally vast love for your neighbor.  As St Paul put it: “And if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing.” (1 Corinthians 13:2)  Wield your wit, your knowledge, and your rhetorical flair not in order to emerge as a prominent apologist, but in order to win more friends for Christ. St Francis de Sales used to say that a single drop of honey would attract more flies than a whole barrel of vinegar; I fear that your performance in the debate was of the barrel variety.  We can simply never overestimate the impact of the simplest act of true Christian charity. Take today’s saint, for instance. The man was a volcano.  In gratitude for the grace of baptism, he retreated into the deserts of Egypt (where he was from) and apprenticed himself to a hermit in order to learn how best to serve God.  Together they lived alarmingly austere lives – sleeping sitting up, never eating a full meal, frequently praying and working all night long – in order to master their sinful tendencies and put their whole heart, mind, and strength into loving God.  One day Pachomius had a vision of angel instructing him to build a monastery on the banks of the Nile. He obeyed, and soon a trickle of followers filled the few cells, followed by more and more men who felt called to give their lives to penance and prayer.  Soon he founded other monasteries, wrote a series of guidelines for monastic life, and inspired countless other Christians with his humility, patience, and miracles. By the time he died in an epidemic, his nine monasteries housed over 3000 monks, and the monastic movement, which has ever since been filling the world with holiness and wisdom, was underway.   And how did this whole amazing sequence of events begin?  With a simple act of Christian charity. You see, before his baptism (even before he knew about Christ), Pachomius had been conscripted for the imperial army.  As he and the other recruits were being transported down the Nile under horrific conditions, a group of Egyptian Christians gave them food, fresh clothing, and other necessities.  Pachomius never forgot this, and as soon as his military service was over, he went to the nearest Christian church in order to be baptized. Those Christians won countless souls to Christ through winning Pachomius by a simple act of Christ-like charity – no fancy arguments were needed.   So, my dear nephew, keep up with your studies, but season them with love.   Your admiring uncle, Eddy

Dear Pete, Your latest plea for advice reminded me of those vapid songs from the seventies, which gloat in mistaking mere feelings for true virtue.  You are an artist; you have been gifted with a keen emotional sensitivity, and God is certainly planning on putting that to good use for his Kingdom.  Nevertheless, you are still a human being, and human beings are more than mere feelings; we have something called reason, another thing called willpower, and we Christians even have the gift of faith to top it all off!  Feelings are blind – sometimes you feel like doing the right thing, a lot of times you feel like doing the wrong thing. Sometimes you feel like being kind, other times you feel like being crabby. Imagine what a monster you would be if you let all your feelings have their way all the time.  Perish the thought! I remind you that feelings are like the weather. Sometimes they can help our journey through life, and other times they can hinder it. The important thing is to keep in mind your destination (union with God through friendship with Christ) and let nothing stop you from pursuing it.  Today’s saint has a lot to say about this. At twenty Peter became a Cistercian monk.  He was so dedicated that he inspired his whole family (mom and dad, two brothers and one sister) to become Cistercians soon afterward.  He loved being a monk. At thirty he was made superior of a new monastery and worked tirelessly to turn the place into a saint factory and a beacon of Christian charity (he built a hospice next door, where he would tend the sick and house travelers for free).  Soon, however, he was appointed to the archbishopric of Tarentaise in south-central France. For thirteen years he reformed and reinvigorated the ailing archdiocese, with the aid of plenty of miracles. But he missed the monastic life so much that one night he sneaked away, went to Switzerland and became a lay brother (dedicated to manual labor) in a monastery that didn’t know him.  He was much happier there, but the people of his archdiocese demanded his return when they finally tracked him down a year later. Reluctantly, he agreed, and went on to extend his works of charity throughout France, defend the papacy against the seemingly overpowering wiles of the emperor Frederick Barbarossa (St Peter was the only person that the emperor permitted to speak freely against him – so evident was the archbishop’s holiness), and midwife peace between the quarreling kings of France and England.  If he had followed his feelings instead of his faith, Europe would have lost a mighty champion of charity and peace, and you would have lost the possibility of asking this saint for his prayers on your behalf. So keep your goal in mind, and let nothing deter you. Sincerely, Uncle Eddy