With joy you will draw water
from the fountains of salvation (Is.12.3)
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Springs of Salvation & Safety Precautions
31 MarNursing School, Prayer, and Avoiding Burnout
22 Mar
“Christians among the teachers are called to be witnesses and educators of authentic Christian life.”
~ Pope St. John Paul II, Ex Corde Ecclesia
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Thanks, Riley Hospital! A Dance Marathon Tale
18 Feb
Riley Children’s Hospital was the help Nick needed, the answer to our prayers.
Read more…
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From Moral Distress to Moral Resilience
15 Feb
As healthcare continues to evolve, clinicians must have the freedom to practice their professions in accord with their consciences—even if this means accepting the possibility of conscientious objection to some practices or interventions.
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A Franciscan Fellow Traveler
15 Jun
Dorothy wasn’t interested in the Gospel as a noun: She sought to realize the Gospel as a verb, to do the Gospel and be Jesus for others.
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Share the Vision: A School Choice Testimony
23 Mar
My wife, Nancy, and I have been blessed with seven kids…so far. It’s not very likely God will send us any more, but he’s known for doing weird things, and we’re always open to the prospect, so who knows? If he does decide the world needs more Beckers in it, then you can bet they’ll end up in Catholic schools, although we didn’t begin there.
Back in the day, we started off homeschooling – rather, Nancy started off homeschooling – but for a variety of reasons, we decided to transition to more traditional educational venues along the way. My older kids put in some time at a private Montessori school, and my oldest son did junior high at Trinity on Greenlawn, but, eventually we opted for Catholic schools for everybody – St. Matthew Cathedral for grade school, and then Marian for high school. We have five Marian grads, and two on the way. Go Knights!
I went to public schools growing up, but my wife received a Catholic education, so it was certainly natural that we’d consider that option when it came time to make a decision about where to send our own kids. But there was a lot more to it than simply going with the flow and carrying on a family tradition. In the case of St. Matt’s and Marian, there was the appeal of clearly demonstrated academic excellence along with so many opportunities for engagement with athletics, the arts, and other co-curricular and extracurricular activities.
But, really? When it came down to it? It was the integrated faith perspective that Catholic education afforded – the opportunity for our children to be educated in an environment in which faith is not only tolerated, but actively promoted and nurtured. We sent our kids to Catholic schools to learn chemistry, Latin, and sculpting, but also to be immersed in Scripture, the liturgy, and the lives of the saints. We knew that they would receive a fine intellectual formation at St. Matt’s and Marian, but, more than that, we anticipated that they’d also be formed spiritually and morally, to be supported in building strong character as well as a strong academic resume.
That’s true for all seven of my kids, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t draw special attention to my son, Nicholas – a senior at Marian High School, a soon to be graduate! I single him out because Nick has Down syndrome, and he’s part of the first cohort of Bernadette Scholars at Marian – a special certificate program for young folks with developmental disabilities like Nick that incorporates modified coursework with the general student population as well as focused formation for the Bernadette Scholars cohort in life and vocational skills.
What a tremendous gift Marian’s Bernadette Scholars program has been to Nick and our family, but it is evident that the Bernadette Scholars have themselves been a tremendous gift to Marian. Nick plays on the drumline, he has a part in the spring musical, he serves and reads at school Masses, and he’s an energic Marian booster all the time.
Plus, he’s just Nick – he’s a walking icon of God’s love. He’s a living reminder that all of us, no matter what, are put here for a reason, for a purpose. The Marian community has been an ideal place for Nick to grow into that purpose and be part of helping others grow into theirs.
Speaking of Nick, today happens to be World Down Syndrome Day, and I can’t think of a better way of marking it than being here with you – sharing with you about the rich, full life that my son is living, a life that has been unquestionably been enhanced and augmented by his time in Catholic schools. My wife and I are so, so grateful for our state’s support of school choice and for the many ways it has benefited Nick and all of my children. I truly hope it continues to expand in Indiana and beyond.
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These remarks were presented at the South Bend Share the Vision Rally on March 21, 2023. The rally was an opportunity for school choice advocates and recipients to share from their experience and support the expansion of school choice throughout Indiana. For more information and ideas on how to get involved, contact the Indiana Non-public Education Association (INPEA).
A Mass for Janis Joplin
19 Feb
“Most grateful are they to those who obtain their deliverance from prison, or even a mitigation of their torments. When, therefore, they arrive in Heaven, they will be sure to remember all who have prayed for them.”
~ St. Alphonse Liguori
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Jim Eder (1940-2023): Conjurer of Community
11 Feb
This is Jim Eder, a remarkable man. Among other things, he was a Chicago school teacher who ran a soup kitchen in his spare time. He sponsored me when I joined the Catholic Church, and he became a mentor, a role model, and my dear friend.
Last week, Jim passed away after suffering a stroke, and today his family and friends came together at St. Lambert’s Parish in Skokie for his funeral. Before the Mass began, I was privileged to deliver this eulogy. If you knew Jim, I hope you find that it captures something of his spirit. If you didn’t know him, maybe it’ll spark your interest, in which case I’d suggest you go help out at Soup Kitchen sometime. It’s still going on, every Tuesday and Friday night. Jim himself won’t be there, of course, but you’ll encounter his legacy in everyone you meet.
Who knows? You might even become part of that legacy yourself.
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When I landed in Uptown in 1984, I had one goal: To find out about the Catholic Worker. I’d read Dorothy Day’s autobiography, The Long Loneliness, and I was determined to find out about this movement of people that took the Gospel so seriously. Houses of hospitality and soup kitchens, peacemaking and farming communes, all wrapped up with priests and Mass and saints and Rosaries. The Catholic stuff weirded me out, frankly (I grew up Evangelical), but the Worker stuff appealed to my twenty-something radicalism, so I started hanging around St. Francis House.
It wasn’t long before I discovered the Soup Kitchen up the street at St. Thomas of Canterbury, and that’s where I got to know Jim Eder. “I’m new – what can I do?” I asked him on my first day. “Here,” he said, handing me a mop, “go clean the men’s bathroom.” It was a practical step, concrete, and so welcome – I was part of the team, just like that!
Later, there was always Evening Prayer and pizza and beer. Sometimes music; always story-telling (and the stories never got old, no matter how many times you heard them, due in part, perhaps, to slight alterations of details with each retelling). And then there was the laughter – lots of laughter. The transition from mopping floors, wiping tables, and scrubbing pots to singing and joking and feasting seemed so natural, so…normal!
It was all an eye-opener, a shocker, an epiphany, really. It was my initiation into the Soup Kitchen magic, largely conjured by Jim – how’d he do it? Total strangers from all walks of life coming together to serve a free meal to those in need, but then receiving something else totally unexpected, something so lavish, so extravagant – authentic community.
Dorothy Day wrote that “Heaven is a banquet and life is a banquet, too, even with a crust, where there is companionship.” That’s a good description of Soup Kitchen, a banquet on many levels – literally for the guests, hundreds of guests, who showed up every Tuesday and Friday, and a banquet for the volunteers as well, with post-Soup feasting and drinking on a regular basis, to be sure, but also a more profound banquet of camaraderie and joy.
And that camaraderie and joy? It was for everyone – everyone, everyone, without exception. Everyone was made to feel welcome and a part of things, integrated into the web of the Soup Kitchen society, just by showing up and pitching in. I experienced it; I know many of you experienced it, too. And it was largely because of Jim Eder. He had an uncanny knack – a gift, a super power, if you will – for reeling in outsiders and giving them purpose, giving them a sense of belonging and place.
What’s more, once you’d been reeled in yourself, you were inspired to do the same for others. You kept your eye out for newbies or those on the fringe, and then brought them into the thick of it all. In essence, you became an extension of Eder’s irrepressible hospitality; which was itself an extension of the hospitality of Christ. Soup Kitchen under Eder’s “temporary” direction – a temporary leadership role that lasted over 40 years – was the embodiment of Peter Maurin’s vision of a world “where it is easier for people to be good.”
Now, let me hasten to add (lest Eder in his otherworldly perch should scowl and scold), that our dear departed friend was no saint. He wasn’t perfect, of course, but he managed his imperfections in a way that I and so, so many others admired and learned from. He wasn’t a saint, but he damn sure wanted to be one, and he worked at it. Every day.
And that’s why I asked him to be my sponsor when I became a Catholic – to be my “godfather,” as I called him. Why wouldn’t I? He was Catholic, through and through; he poured out his life for others through service and sacrifice; he prayed regularly, got to Mass every day, and frequented the confessional. Yet he did it all with good humor, generosity, and just regular humanness. Eder was an ordinary guy with ordinary strengths and weaknesses who, with God’s grace, did extraordinary things – he lived an extraordinary life.
Early on – after meeting him, getting to know him, living with him – I determined to become like him. So, like I said, I asked him to be my sponsor, and, as my sponsor, he not only shepherded me into the Catholic Church, he demonstrated every day what it means to be a Catholic – or, to be precise, he demonstrated every day what it can mean to be a Catholic. That’s what I wanted: To be a Catholic like Eder was a Catholic, and I’ve been working at it ever since.
Although my time in Uptown ended after only a few short years, it was instrumental in shaping my worldview, personality, and character. The Worker, Soup, St. Thomas, the whole Kenmore “do-gooders ghetto” phenomenon was a crucible for so many of us, making us who we are, and Eder was at the center of it all for many of us – me included, obviously.
Even after I left Uptown, Jim and I stayed connected, albeit remotely – going on 30-odd years now. I’d visit him in Chicago; he’d come down to visit us in South Bend; often I’d meet him halfway at an Irish pub in Michigan City. He stood with me at my wedding; he actually became a literal godfather for my son, Crispin; and, for me, he became like a second dad.
Jim challenged me and encouraged me; held me accountable when I was screwing up; counseled me when I was losing my way. We’ve laughed much together, cried together, and bitched about this and that together. It seems like my entire adult life, I’ve been striving to emulate Jim in so many ways – in faith and devotion, in courage and prudence, in friendship and loyalty, and certainly in mirth. You could say we’ve been growing older together intermittently for decades. Only he had a couple decades head start on me, so we both knew that he’d likely be making his exit before me.
Yeah, I knew that, but I still couldn’t believe it when I got the word from Fr. Simon that Jim had suffered a major stroke – that he was unresponsive and unlikely to survive for long. Jim? Jim Eder? Dying? It couldn’t be. What will the world be like without Jim Eder in it? Oh my God, a much poorer world, at the very least, poorer and more melancholy, bereft of a major tributary of charity and good cheer.
Last Saturday, I got up to Evanston to visit Jim in the hospital – to tell him I loved him, to thank him for saving my life, shaping my life, enriching my life. When I got there, I was greeted by Don and Dorsey, Jim’s good, good friends; and there was Paul Shaheen and Alban, good, good friends from an even earlier vintage.
And then there was a fifth person, a young woman I didn’t recognize – Dani, I was told, a relatively recent addition to the Soup Kitchen community. Immediately, I felt a bond with her – and I knew nothing about her other than her first name, that she was a volunteer at Soup, and that she loved Eder enough to visit his deathbed. Then I saw her well up with tears as she got ready to leave, as she bade Jim farewell, as she thanked him profusely for his impact on her life. “Amazing, amazing,” I thought to myself. “Here is a sister, a comrade, a friend – and all because of our common connection with this dying man.”
Amazing, right? Even on his deathbed, he was bringing people together. Today we gather again, once again, because of Jim. We’ll grieve him; we’ll pray for him; we’ll bury him. We’ll commend his soul to God. But we won’t be done with him, for his manner of bringing people together and conjuring community, of eliciting smiles and joviality in the unlikeliest circumstances, of pursuing holiness as if it was the most normal thing in the world – his manner is now our manner.
No matter our state of life, no matter our profession, no matter our age, we can take a cue from Jim and work to create spaces in the world – little corners in the world here and there – “where it is easier for people to be good.” And the world will be all the better for it. And so will we. Thanks, Jim Eder, thanks. Thanks for everything.
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The School of Love
25 Nov
“And so we are going to establish a school
for the service of the Lord” (Rule of St. Benedict).
“We have been placed on earth to learn to love in the school of Jesus,” writes Fr. Jacques Philippe in Interior Freedom. “Learning to love is extremely simple: it means learning to give freely and receive freely. But this simple lesson also is very hard for us to learn, because of sin.”
In that short paragraph, Philippe sums up my entire Catholic testimony. I’d grown up in faith, but I lost my way in college. I wanted Jesus, the Jesus of the Gospels, but I couldn’t find him. An abstract Jesus of the written Word and interior experience wasn’t enough. I wanted to see him, touch him, know him.
Then I encountered Dorothy Day and the Catholic Worker. I found the ethos of the Catholic Worker movement compelling in that it was so clearly a school of love just like Philippe describes. Hang around a CW house long enough, and you’ll get better at giving love and receiving love, regardless of your faith perspective. All CW students, if they stay enrolled, progress in love at their personal margins. It’s built into the system.
But it’s hard, very hard, mainly due to sin, as Philippe points out. That’s where grace comes in, of course, and that’s what drove me into the arms of the Catholic Church. I wanted more Jesus, I wanted more loving, both giving and receiving, and I became convinced that the Church and the sacraments and the communion of saints were the means to those ends.
I’m still convinced of that, and I’m still enrolled in the CW school, although as a distance learner now. It’s a lifelong course of study, you see. “Learning to give and receive freely requires a long, laborious process of re-educating our minds,” Philippe writes, “which have been conditioned by thousands of years of struggle for survival.” Daily, daily, daily I have to learn and re-learn the Gospel truth that life isn’t about mere survival or my rights and demands and temporal needs. No, life in Christ is about death to self, as the Lord insists, and an opportunity for new life in him.
Indeed, that new life involves a “process of divinization,” Philippe insists, “whose final goal is to love as God loves.” That sounds crazy, I know, especially given my petty selfishness and stubborn rebellion against heaven, but it’s the goal nonetheless. We’re called to be saints, after all, and saints are merely sinners who passionately desired heaven and never gave up. “This divinization, this becoming God-like, means becoming human in the truest sense!” writes Philippe. “It is a marvelous, liberating evolution.”
And it’s an adventure, the best adventure ever. See you in school!
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For more information on the Catholic Worker movement, try this link.
God-Haunted Lunatic 