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๐—ช๐—ต๐˜† ๐—š๐—ผ๐—ฑ ๐— ๐—ฎ๐—ฑ๐—ฒ ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐—ช๐—ถ๐—ป๐—ฑ๐˜€๐—ต๐—ถ๐—ฒ๐—น๐—ฑ ๐—Ÿ๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐—ด๐—ฒ๐—ฟ ๐—ง๐—ต๐—ฎ๐—ป ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐—ฅ๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐—ฟ-๐—ฉ๐—ถ๐—ฒ๐˜„ ๐— ๐—ถ๐—ฟ๐—ฟ๐—ผ๐—ฟ

One of the greatest misconceptions about grief is that healing means leaving the past behind. We hear phrases like, โ€œItโ€™s time to move on,โ€ โ€œYou need to let go,โ€ or โ€œYou have to get over it.โ€ Though usually well-intentioned, these words can leave grieving people feeling that healing requires forgetting the person they loved or …

๐“๐ก๐ž ๐๐ž๐ฌ๐ญ ๐๐ฎ๐ž๐ฌ๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐€๐ง๐ฒ๐จ๐ง๐ž ๐„๐ฏ๐ž๐ซ ๐€๐ฌ๐ค๐ž๐ ๐Œ๐ž

“๐‘Šโ„Ž๐‘Ž๐‘ก ๐‘‘๐‘œ ๐‘ฆ๐‘œ๐‘ข ๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘ก ๐‘š๐‘’ ๐‘ก๐‘œ ๐‘‘๐‘œ ๐‘“๐‘œ๐‘Ÿ ๐‘ฆ๐‘œ๐‘ข?” “๐ฟ๐‘œ๐‘Ÿ๐‘‘, ๐ผ ๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘ก ๐‘ก๐‘œ ๐‘ ๐‘’๐‘’,” โ„Ž๐‘’ ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘๐‘™๐‘–๐‘’๐‘‘. โ€” ๐ฟ๐‘ข๐‘˜๐‘’ 18:41 (๐‘๐ผ๐‘‰) Back in 2013, over lunch with an old friend, I was asked a question that changed my life โ€” one I’m still answering today. That friend was Fr. Hank Hilton, SJ, and the lunch was …

๐–๐š๐ฅ๐ค๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐‚๐š๐ฆ๐ข๐ง๐จ ๐๐จ๐ซ๐ญ๐ฎ๐ ๐ฎรฉ๐ฌ: ๐†๐ซ๐š๐œ๐ž๐ฌ ๐‘๐ž๐ฏ๐ž๐š๐ฅ๐ž๐ ๐“๐ก๐ซ๐จ๐ฎ๐ ๐ก ๐†๐ซ๐ข๐ž๐Ÿ, ๐“๐ซ๐ž๐š๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ž, ๐š๐ง๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐๐ซ๐ž๐ฌ๐ž๐ง๐ญ ๐Œ๐จ๐ฆ๐ž๐ง๐ญ

โ€œ๐‘ญ๐’๐’“ ๐’˜๐’‰๐’†๐’“๐’† ๐’š๐’๐’–๐’“ ๐’•๐’“๐’†๐’‚๐’”๐’–๐’“๐’† ๐’Š๐’”, ๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’“๐’† ๐’š๐’๐’–๐’“ ๐’‰๐’†๐’‚๐’“๐’• ๐’˜๐’Š๐’๐’ ๐’ƒ๐’† ๐’‚๐’๐’”๐’.โ€ ๐‘ด๐’‚๐’•๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’˜ ๐Ÿ”:๐Ÿ๐Ÿ Last Friday, I completed the Camino Portuguรฉs, walking 227 miles from Porto through Santiago and then on to Finisterre โ€” often called โ€œthe end of the world.โ€ As I reflect on the journey, three graces stand out: ๐†๐ซ๐š๐œ๐ž ๐Ž๐ง๐ž: ๐†๐ซ๐ข๐ž๐Ÿ My first …

๐“๐ก๐ž ๐‚๐š๐ฆ๐ข๐ง๐จ ๐‚๐š๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฌ ๐Œ๐ž ๐€๐ ๐š๐ข๐ง โ€” ๐“๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐“๐ข๐ฆ๐ž, ๐ญ๐ก๐ž ๐‚๐š๐ฆ๐ข๐ง๐จ ๐๐จ๐ซ๐ญ๐ฎ๐ ๐ฎรฉ๐ฌ

“๐™๐™๐™š ๐™ฌ๐™ค๐™ง๐™ก๐™™ ๐™˜๐™–๐™ฃ๐™ฃ๐™ค๐™ฉ ๐™—๐™š ๐™™๐™ž๐™จ๐™˜๐™ค๐™ซ๐™š๐™ง๐™š๐™™ ๐™—๐™ฎ ๐™– ๐™Ÿ๐™ค๐™ช๐™ง๐™ฃ๐™š๐™ฎ ๐™ค๐™› ๐™ข๐™ž๐™ก๐™š๐™จ, ๐™ฃ๐™ค ๐™ข๐™–๐™ฉ๐™ฉ๐™š๐™ง ๐™๐™ค๐™ฌ ๐™ก๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™œ, ๐™—๐™ช๐™ฉ ๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™ก๐™ฎ ๐™—๐™ฎ ๐™– ๐™จ๐™ฅ๐™ž๐™ง๐™ž๐™ฉ๐™ช๐™–๐™ก ๐™Ÿ๐™ค๐™ช๐™ง๐™ฃ๐™š๐™ฎ, ๐™– ๐™Ÿ๐™ค๐™ช๐™ง๐™ฃ๐™š๐™ฎ ๐™ค๐™› ๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™š ๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™˜๐™, ๐™ซ๐™š๐™ง๐™ฎ ๐™–๐™ง๐™™๐™ช๐™ค๐™ช๐™จ ๐™–๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™๐™ช๐™ข๐™—๐™ก๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™œ ๐™–๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™Ÿ๐™ค๐™ฎ๐™›๐™ช๐™ก, ๐™—๐™ฎ ๐™ฌ๐™๐™ž๐™˜๐™ ๐™ฌ๐™š ๐™–๐™ง๐™ง๐™ž๐™ซ๐™š ๐™–๐™ฉ ๐™ฉ๐™๐™š ๐™œ๐™ง๐™ค๐™ช๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™–๐™ฉ ๐™ค๐™ช๐™ง ๐™›๐™š๐™š๐™ฉ, ๐™–๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™ก๐™š๐™–๐™ง๐™ฃ ๐™ฉ๐™ค ๐™—๐™š ๐™–๐™ฉ ๐™๐™ค๐™ข๐™š.” โ€” ๐™’๐™š๐™ฃ๐™™๐™š๐™ก๐™ก ๐˜ฝ๐™š๐™ง๐™ง๐™ฎ, ๐™๐™๐™š ๐™๐™ฃ๐™›๐™ค๐™ง๐™š๐™จ๐™š๐™š๐™ฃ ๐™’๐™ž๐™ก๐™™๐™š๐™ง๐™ฃ๐™š๐™จ๐™จ (๐Ÿญ๐Ÿต๐Ÿณ๐Ÿญ) Today, …

The Loyola Retreat Experience โ€” Discerning Godโ€™s Call in the Silence

โ€œ๐™ƒ๐™š๐™ฎ ๐™…๐™–๐™˜๐™ , ๐™–๐™ง๐™š ๐™ฎ๐™ค๐™ช ๐™ก๐™š๐™–๐™ซ๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™œ ๐™š๐™ฃ๐™ค๐™ช๐™œ๐™ ๐™ง๐™ค๐™ค๐™ข ๐™›๐™ค๐™ง ๐™‚๐™ค๐™™ ๐™ž๐™ฃ ๐™ฎ๐™ค๐™ช๐™ง ๐™ก๐™ž๐™›๐™š?โ€ โ€” ๐˜ผ ๐™ฆ๐™ช๐™š๐™จ๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™ค๐™ฃ ๐™ฅ๐™ค๐™จ๐™š๐™™ ๐™ฉ๐™ค ๐™ข๐™š ๐™—๐™ฎ ๐™ข๐™ฎ ๐™›๐™ง๐™ž๐™š๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐˜ฝ๐™ž๐™ก๐™ก Two weekends ago, my brother Matt and I stepped away from the noise of everyday life and attended a 42-hour Silent Retreat at Loyola Jesuit Center in Morristown, NJ. Matt and I have …

๐๐ฅ๐š๐ง๐ญ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐๐ž๐ฐ ๐’๐ž๐ž๐๐ฌ ๐“๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐’๐ฉ๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐’๐ž๐š๐ฌ๐จ๐ง

โ€œ๐‘ญ๐’๐’“ ๐’†๐’—๐’†๐’“๐’š๐’•๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’“๐’† ๐’Š๐’” ๐’‚ ๐’”๐’†๐’‚๐’”๐’๐’โ€ฆ ๐’‚ ๐’•๐’Š๐’Ž๐’† ๐’•๐’ ๐’‘๐’๐’‚๐’๐’•.โ€ ๐‘ฌ๐’„๐’„๐’๐’†๐’”๐’Š๐’‚๐’”๐’•๐’†๐’” ๐Ÿฏ A few days ago, I loaded up my truck with petunias and impatiens โ€” two of my favorite flowers Iโ€™ve been planting for decades. Itโ€™s one of my favorite spring rituals, following weeks of preparation โ€” power raking and fertilizing the lawn and …

Fifteen Years Later: I Still Carry My Dadโ€™s Heart With Me

โ€œi carry your heart with me (i carry it inmy heart) i am never without itโ€ โ€” E. E. Cummings In Bereavement Ministry, we often talk about the โ€œCalendar of Griefโ€ โ€” those dates forever etched in our hearts: a loved oneโ€™s birthday, the anniversary of their passing, wedding anniversaries, and holidays like Motherโ€™s Day, …

“๐ˆ๐Ÿ ๐˜๐จ๐ฎ ๐๐ฎ๐ข๐ฅ๐ ๐ˆ๐ญ, ๐“๐ก๐ž๐ฒ ๐–๐ข๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐‚๐จ๐ฆ๐ž”: ๐‚๐ž๐ฅ๐ž๐›๐ซ๐š๐ญ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐Ÿ”๐ŸŽ ๐˜๐ž๐š๐ซ๐ฌ ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐‚๐š๐ญ๐ก๐จ๐ฅ๐ข๐œ ๐„๐๐ฎ๐œ๐š๐ญ๐ข๐จ๐ง ๐š๐ญ ๐๐š๐ซ๐š๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ฌ ๐‚๐š๐ญ๐ก๐จ๐ฅ๐ข๐œ

Earlier this week, I had the privilege of sitting down for lunch with Chris Farrell, the President of Paramus Catholic High School โ€” my alma mater and the largest Catholic high school in the state of New Jersey. His energy and commitment to the school and to Catholic education is both admirable and deeply empowering. …

๐“๐ก๐š๐ง๐ค ๐˜๐จ๐ฎ, ๐๐ž๐ฐ ๐˜๐จ๐ซ๐ค: ๐ˆ๐Ÿ ๐ˆ ๐‚๐š๐ง ๐Œ๐š๐ค๐ž ๐ˆ๐ญ ๐“๐ก๐ž๐ซ๐ž, ๐ˆ ๐‚๐š๐ง ๐Œ๐š๐ค๐ž ๐ˆ๐ญ ๐€๐ง๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ก๐ž๐ซ๐ž

Somewhere along Sunday’s 40-mile route through the five boroughs, the TD Five Boro Bike Tour became something I didn’t expect โ€” a journey back through the moments and people that shaped my life. As I rode through Lower Manhattan, I thought about the four firms that defined much of my earlier career โ€” Merrill Lynch, …

๐‚๐ก๐ž๐ซ๐ข๐ฌ๐ก๐ž๐ ๐Š๐ž๐ž๐ฉ๐ฌ๐š๐ค๐ž๐ฌ ๐ข๐ง ๐†๐ซ๐ข๐ž๐Ÿ โ€“ ๐Œ๐ฒ ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ญ๐ก๐ž๐ซโ€™๐ฌ ๐…๐ข๐ง๐š๐ฅ ๐‹๐ž๐ญ๐ญ๐ž๐ซ ๐๐ž๐Ÿ๐จ๐ซ๐ž ๐‡๐ž ๐๐š๐ฌ๐ฌ๐ž๐

Fifty-four years ago today, my older brother Dennis passed away suddenly and unexpectedly at the age of 19. In early 2020, going through my Momโ€™s personal things after her passing, I found this letter โ€” Dennis had written it to me in February 1972, just two months before he died. I was a junior at …