Dear Jean, Ever since you arrived at college your notes have narrated all the wonderful experiences you have been having.  Unfortunately, all of those experiences are parties, dates, weekend road trips, and other social engagements.  Not once have you mentioned a single class, a professor, a lecture – and you have not even alluded to any kind of spiritual life.  My dear niece, you can skim along the giddy surface of a “good time” for the first eight (or more) weeks of college, but if you don’t balance out your social life with a little substance, the next four years will be nothing more than a long firecracker.  Depth of soul, my dearest, depth of soul is what leads to lasting joy and the inexpressible sweetness of a life lived intensely.  The highest mountains have the deepest roots, and they are the most beautiful.  The deeper waters harbor more life, and can withstand the storms.  Those who love silence can hear the music better.  Learn from the example of today’s saint. He was one of those extraordinarily talented persons who would have achieved greatness in whatever undertaking he embraced.  He was born in central Italy, and finished up his studies in the city of Perugia.  He made such an impression on the people there that when he graduated they elected him governor.  Political squabbles ended up with his capture and imprisonment by local adversaries.  It was prison that saved him.  Forced to reflect on the passing nature of worldly glory (hitherto his only desire), and on the reality of death (prisons in 1400 were hardly comfortable or sanitary), he emerged with a determination to put his life at the service of God and the eternal Kingdom.  He humiliated himself by riding through town sitting backwards on a Donkey, with a huge paper cone on his head where he wrote out in bold letters all his most heinous sins.  As he made his way through the streets, children and adults alike laughed at him, and pelted him with mud and stones.  In this condition, he requested entry at the Franciscan friary, and began his preparations to become a Franciscan priest.  He was subjected to severe trials of obedience as a novice, for which he was grateful ever after, but persevered in spite of the difficulties. By the time he was ordained a priest, everyone was familiar with his extraordinary abilities as a preacher and miracle worker.  He spent the rest of his life traveling from province to province and tirelessly calling people to repentance, trying to counteract the scandals and disorder that reigned in the Italian church at the time.  Eventually he was entrusted with reform of the Franciscan order itself, which he performed admirably.  He also became a favorite pick for special papal missions – to Jerusalem, for instance, and then to counteract heresy in Austria.  Wherever he went, huge crowds gathered to hear him and to ask him to cure their sick.  His zeal for the Church won many fallen-away Christians back into the fold, and even roused the Hungarian king and people to successfully resist the onslaught of Turkish invaders at the gates of Belgrade.  After that engagement, he fell victim to the plague (sparked by the dead bodies that lay strewn and rotting all about the besieged city) and died.  Throughout the years of his remarkable life, St John began every day with the same activities: rising before dawn, he prayed for an hour and celebrated Mass, only then would he go forth to build the Kingdom. Perhaps you are not called to such heights of sanctity (but perhaps you are), or to such a public mission in the Church (though you might be), but unless you carve time out of your social life for some study, prayer, and personal reflection – even if it’s only a little – you may not find out your calling at all, which would be quite tragic. Your affectionate uncle, Eddy

Dear Lu, I got a note from your other uncle today.  He just received the “CEO of the Decade” award.  He wrote me while he was in a total crisis.  And odd crisis, it was.  He mentioned the award, and how after he received it he went home, put the kids to bed, said goodnight to his wife, then went down to the Perpetual Adoration chapel at the nearby parish. (As soon as he mentioned that, I knew he was in dire straights; he never goes there when life is moving along smoothly.)  He spent two hours sitting there in the chapel, thinking, and trying to pray.  Can you guess what he was thinking about?  His college years (no joke), and how much time he wasted then.  He did very well in college, and won plenty of awards there as well, but he still has regrets.  Immediately, I thought of you and our ongoing conversation about “time management.”  His case proves my point that every minute really matters, and that when we go before our Lord on Judgment Day, one of our deepest regrets will be the time we could have spent building his eternal Kingdom that we spent instead building our personal kingdom of sand castles.  Today’s saints are a perfect example. They were sisters born of a Christian mother and a Muslim father in northeastern Spain.  It was soon after the Muslims had conquered the country, and after their mother had been widowed and (unwisely) married a Muslim for a second time, the sisters obtained permission to go and live with a Christian aunt.  There they could be free from their stepfather’s harsh treatment and from the steady stream of importunate suitors (they had both resolved to consecrate their virginity to Christ) that bothered them at home.  Soon afterwards began one of the many persecutions against the Christians.  The sisters were known to be devout Christians, and were brought (to their joy) before the city official, who used flattery, deceit, and threats to convince them to renounce their faith.  They stood firm.  Next he put them in the care of some wicked women, who tried to wear down their resolve with subtle but evil enticements – to no avail.  Finally, in accordance with the laws of the time, they were beheaded because they refused to abandon their Christian faith. At first glance, this heroic story has nothing to do with “time management.”  But at second glance, it has everything to do with it.  Remember, the key to our effective use of time is knowing our goal: if we know where we’re going, we can easily figure out the most efficient way to get there; if we are unsure about our destination, or if we have a bunch of contrary destinations, we will never get anywhere.  These two Spanish girls have a lot to teach us about our final destination: they believed in it so strongly that they were willing to give up all that this passing world has to offer in order to attain it, while we often can’t even squeeze a visit the Blessed Sacrament into our “busy” schedules.  Food for thought, anyway, and for prayer. God bless, Uncle Eddy

Dear Hilary, I share your sadness about Bruce.  As the old saying goes, it’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.  I do not, however, share your surprise.  Yes, the ubiquitous campaigns against drunk driving have raised consciousness about its dangers, but have they gone to the heart of the matter?  Think about it.  Why do people get drunk?  Why do they do drugs?  The kids at your college have everything going for them – they are not “down-and-out” tramps.  What possible reason could they have for habitual over-indulgence, even when they are well aware of the potential consequences?  Certainly, there could be many reasons.  Some just enjoy it – sheer indulgence in pleasure.  Others are trying to solidify their place among a certain group of friends.  Still others may be aware of a deep existential void, and substance abuse (occasional or habitual) is their way of trying to fill or hide it.  OK, so which of these causes do the “anti-drinking” campaigns address?  None.  They miss the boat completely.  Today’s saint, however, gives positive alternatives for meeting each of those needs. Hilarion was born in Palestine, of non-Christian parents, who sent him to school in Alexandria, Egypt, where he heard the gospel and believed.  He felt called to dedicate himself more fully to God, so he went into the desert to meet St Anthony, already famous for his holiness and wisdom.  For two months he was St Anthony’s disciple, but the many other disciples and visitors that Anthony had to receive wearied and distracted him, so he returned to his native southern Palestine, where he decided to give himself up to silence, prayer, work and penance.  He only ate one meal a day, of 15 figs (later he added some bread and oil), after sunset, and when he was beset with especially strong temptations, he would cut down the number of figs and increase his prayers and work. Thus he endeavored to spend the rest of his life (he died when he was eighty).  His love for God made his heart share in the Lord’s compassion for those who suffer, and after his years of purification he was granted the gift of miracles.  His intercession made a barren woman fertile, gave a Christian chariot racer a victory over a pagan, brought rain during droughts, healed the sick… He became a regular wonderworker.  As his fame expanded, his solitude diminished.  He decided to leave that place where he was so well known to find somewhere he could be alone again, but the people wouldn’t let him go.  So he went on a hunger strike to convince them – after seven days they relented.  But wherever Hilarion went, his compassion for the suffering led him to perform miracles, so he had to continue wandering from place to place for half of his lifetime, until he died in peace in a pleasant retreat on the island of Cyprus.  Personally, he only wanted solitude so he could pray, but God gave him fame so he could bring others to pray. Here was a man free from peer pressure, master of his tendencies to pleasure, and filled with certainty about the real meaning of life.  What was his secret?  He had met Christ, and he followed him.  That’s the answer, that’s the only way to free ourselves from the destructive habits that breed tragedies like Bruce’s: Jesus Christ. So let’s ask St Hilarion to help us spread the word. Sincerely, Uncle Eddy