More Observations from the Streets

When I walked the streets the other day, I had so many diverse encounters that I was struggling to regain my bearings from one moment to the next.  There were spirit-filled conversations, gestures of friendliness and spite, and odd moments where God was using my presence to provoke a choice in onlookers.  There was even a moment where I thought I would have to stop a young street tough from assaulting his girlfriend (the guys at Jiffy Lube were also about to jump in), but the young man wisely fled after he attempted a haphazard slap.

"Where are you going?"

God often uses our presence to prompt a choice in certain people.  It's as if he desires that we stand in for Christ, as part of his mystical body, and our gaze becomes his gaze: a call of return, of coming-to the source of life and love.  I have written about this phenomenon in an earlier post here.  Several times as I walked in a state of recollection, I felt a gentle prompting to look in a certain direction.  Then sure enough, my eyes would immediately meet a face staring intently at me.  It was as though I knew exactly where that person was--even if they were in a crowd of other youths, or behind plate glass in a restaurant.  The person was fixed on my presence, deep in thought, and we gave each other a long look.  God seemed to be asking them a question: "Where are you going?" or "Who do you say that I am?"  I don't know what their answer was, but that is a question we all have to answer many times throughout our lives.

Fr. Willie Doyle SJ, a Holy Chaplain killed in WWI

A couple months ago I read an excellent piece on Fr. Willie Doyle SJ, and was reminded of the efficacy of offering little sacrifices to God as we go about our day.  Thus, before I set out to walk the streets I passed on dessert, and then chose to walk with a pebble rattling around in my shoe.  The pebble had just popped-in, and I was about to take it out when I felt a gentle urging to accept it as a sacrifice.  I resumed walking on the pebble and remembered a saying from the Cure of Ars, "God speaks to us without ceasing by his good inspirations."  These little sacrifices should come to us through a gentle signal, and we shouldn't force things.  God will lead the way and he will present sacrifices to us as he sees fit.

Shortly after accepting the pebble, a young homeless man cavalierly crossed four lanes of traffic to come talk with me. That's happened many times over the last year.  Street people like to think it's their street, and so they act accordingly. He started out by teasing me, asking me if I was the pope.  That is also common: people often tease me before they get around to saying what is really on their mind.  Once the young man decided I was all right, he earnestly asked for my prayers, and said he was battling some things.  I asked him his name.  I've learned that saying and knowing a person's name has a powerful effect--it immediately takes the encounter to a deeper level.  He was embarrassed to say that his street name was 'Casanova'.  I smiled because his appearance had suggested as much.  Not all street people are indifferent to vanity.  Then we shared in spontaneous prayer, and the Holy Spirit seemed to guide my words.  It was a moment of spiritual communion, and then we hastily parted since men can only endure so much intimacy with each other. When I saw him two hours later he was no longer sober.  Please say a prayer for Casanova, and also for a woman named Kelly.

I met Kelly later that day when she and a male friend stopped their car to talk.  The man was very cheerful and friendly and had a dizzying number of piercings and tattoos.  Kelly asked for prayers several times and seemed skeptical that I would follow through.  She prayed that she was on the right path, and that she was faithfully following her late uncle.  He must have been a good man.  Kelly had already mastered the virtue of charity since she insisted that I looked handsome in my tunic.  That's the first time I've heard that!  As soon as they left, I prayed that she would also master the other virtues as well.  I've continued to commend Kelly and Casanova to God in prayer and at daily mass.

The Long Defeat

The Catholic internet is in a buzz over the latest Pew Research showing the continuing de-Christianization of America. Some are convinced that a persecution is looming, but I don't get that sense at all when I walk the streets.  Now a person may get that sense if they spend a lot of time on the internet reading news of scandals and crimes, but it's different in the lived world.  Portland, Oregon routinely ranks as one of the least-churched cities in America, and only a tiny number of those I encounter are genuinely hostile.  Many more are actually welcoming in one way or another.  The only way that we would see a situation like the Cristeros or the Spanish Civil War is if God removed his hand, and so many of our neighbors and co-workers subsequently suffered a "strong delusion" (2 Thess. 2:11).  That's possible, but it's the exceptional case and not the regular order of things.  As Sr. Lucia saw in a vision at Fatima, the sword of justice is regularly suspended by the intercessions of the holy ones (especially the Virgin Mary).  One holy saint from the 6th or 7th century even said that God was sparing the world only because of his prayers and those of another holy hermit.

Another reason a persecution is unlikely is because most Catholics have already been swept away by the spirit of the age (whether of the "progressive" or "conservative" version--really two halves of Caesar's same coin).  Thus, the fervent Catholics can be dismissed or ignored, just as they are in some dioceses and many parishes.  By several different metrics it would seem that there are about one million faithful, serious Catholics in the US (out of 50 million self-described Catholics).  Catholic book publishers have researched the market for faithful Catholic books and have arrived at that number, and polling has also repeatedly shown that only 2% (that is, one million) of Catholics in the US believe all of Church teachings.  Matthew Kelly's group have found that a larger number--some two million or so--Catholics do virtually all of the ministries/volunteer work at parishes.  Though many of that number treat the parish as a social club or part-time charity and have resisted the Church's hard sayings.  Some even do so with the pride of the unrepentant sinner.  I once overheard a couple who are pillars of a parish tell the priest that they consulted a dissident website before they left on vacation in order to find a pro-choice, pro-gay marriage parish to attend while away.

As far as the Catholic findings in the Pew Report, as Sherry Weddell of "Intentional Disciples" fame comments, the falling away of millions of more Catholics was entirely predictable.  In fact, she had predicted it five years before.  (BTW, there seem to be five voices in Catholic media that are distinguished by their reliable judgment: Sherry Weddell, Dawn Eden, Msgr. Charles Pope, Peter Kreeft and Dan Burke).  I tried to offer a gentle warning about this trend a couple of months ago here.  In fact, my greatest concern in starting this apostolate was finding faithful, vibrant parishes for those who wished to come into the Church.  In most dioceses, only a handful of parishes preach Christ's "narrow way", and act as though the liturgy is the meeting place of heaven and earth, the most important moment in the week.  By doing so, these parishes remain open to the full flood of grace, and so are the usual sources of vocations to religious life and of large families.  While every parish has a small number of committed disciples (by God's merciful design), these handful of parishes have many serious disciples and many of them are actually young.  They are the future of the Church, and her best hope for evangelization.

In the coming weeks I will write on what God is asking for in the "New Evangelization", and what he is not asking for.

The Art of Sharing

I've enjoyed getting back into the rhythm of walking the streets now that life has settled down at home.  On one of the walks I ran into one of the local Sisters of Reparation, a small order founded by an opera singer.  It's always encouraging to see a religious sister in habit walking down the sidewalk.  That was once a normal part of Catholic life, but what was once the rule has now become the exception (did you catch my pun? :-)

On one of my walks I was out after 11pm, even though "Nothing good happens after midnight".  For those of us who were once thugs or night clubbers or bed-hoppers--or all of the above!--it's hard to argue with that proverb.  Demons seem to think that the night belongs to them, but then God's grace keeps getting in the way of their plans.  While I was out late I met two young black evangelicals with the Victory Chapel Outreach.  The young men were looking for prostitutes, addicts and other vulnerable people who were ready to make a radical break and join their program.  Victory Chapel offers housing, job training and work, as well as extensive Bible study, in order to re-shape the habits and identity of those under their care.  It's a very disciplined, regimented program, and so it really only appeals to those who are returning to the Father with empty hands, like the prodigal son.

One of the Victory Chapel evangelists was a remarkably bright, eloquent speaker.  In fact, he would have made a formidable Dominican.  While he talked I thought, "He must be a pastor.  He will go places in life.  I wish I had his gift!" Then after a while I realized he was just talking at me, and I no longer envied his gift.  I recalled that God had called me to this ministry even without the gift of eloquence.  In fact, listening can be even more powerful than speaking, and a more sure foundation for a deep-rooted evangelization.  The readiness to listen presumes a certain equality between parties, a willingness to learn or come to know the other person, the very building blocks of friendship.  The ancient Greeks often wrote on friendship, and they understood that some recognition of equality was necessary for a profound relationship.  I trust the talented young man will learn this lesson as he grows older.  Before we parted he kindly offered to pray with me.

Blessed Charles wasn't much of an orator, and in fact he is well known for preferring the silent, "hidden life" of Nazareth. He even began as a Trappist, those great listeners of God, where he took the name "Brother Marie-Alberic".  Blessed Charles wasn't born a great listener, but he became one as he increased in humility and charity.  Humility, because he assumed his opinion was not always worth hearing, and charity because he assumed that others might have something better to say.  It's only been in the last few years that I've acquired the faculty of listening.  Before that I was the insufferable student and professor that always had something to say.  Now I cringe when I recall those days.  Blessed Charles, ora pro nobis!

The other day I heard an enlightening talk that proposed that the saints continue on with their life's work after death.  This idea was present in the early Church, and we have heard recent saints express the thought as they neared death.  Sts. Padre Pio and Therese of Lisieux each prophesied that their earthly life was only a foretaste of their work to come.  But what struck me is that the saints' intercession and communion with us is far more personal or autobiographic than we ever could have imagined.  It goes far beyond fostering their unique charism and role in the Body of Christ, but it runs even to things like personality traits and life experiences.

Thus whenever I seethe at the worldly spirit in the Church and begin to get carried away, I remember Blessed Charles's reaction to papal liberalization of the Trappist diet.  He was scandalized that the Trappists would now be granted a little butter or oil with their bread! A good laugh always puts things in perspective.

I've also been comforted to reflect on Blessed Charles's penchant for grandiose dreams.  He once paid a land merchant for the title to the Mount of the Beatitudes in the Holy Land so he might make of it a hermitage and chapel.  Imagine the Mount of Beatitudes all to himself!  But he was swindled out of his sum through a false title.  Before that he had composed a thick Rule for a dreamed-of religious community--The Little Brothers of Jesus.  His friend and spiritual director, Abbe Huvelin, replied, "The Pope hesitated to give his approbation to the Franciscan Rule; he thought it too severe; but this rule!  To tell you the truth it terrified me!"  Once again, Blessed Charles saw his great dreams come to nothing.

All of this is a comforting thought as I have been chastened by my own grandiose dreams for this apostolate.  As I laugh at my own presumption, I know that Blessed Charles is laughing with me.  Two fools marveling at God's trust in us.

The Passion and Springtime of the Church

There's a remarkably widespread opinion amongst prominent Churchmen that the Church is entering a passion.  Just as Christ took on his passion as he walked among us, so must the Church--his mystical body--undergo her passions as she journeys through the centuries.  Christ endured rejection, abandonment and terrible wounds, and so must the Church.

This gloomy consensus seems to cut across generations and even theological differences.  Karl Rahner SJ, a giant of the Second Vatican Council and favorite amongst progressives, opined that in the future the church would only be composed of mystics.  Fr. John Hardon SJ, a tradition-minded theologian, said that only the very humble or very chaste would remain faithful.  In 1969, Cardinal Ratzinger (the future Pope Benedict XVI) offered some hopeful, poetic words even amidst a post-Christian future.  He predicted that after a falling-away, the world "will discover the little flock of believers as something wholly new."  The whole passage is worth reading here.  One industrious author has even assembled the apocalyptic warnings of the popes from the past two-hundred years.  It's a meticulously documented though tiring book: Heralds of the Second Coming.  Some might object that two hundred years sounds like an awful slow warning, but apostasies are often slow motion events; that is, until they're not.  Spiritual bankruptcy is a lot like Hemingway's description of financial bankruptcy: it "happens in two ways: gradually then suddenly."  In Quebec, Canada, it is said that most of the province ceased going to mass over the course of a few months in 1966.  Obviously the Devil had been laying his groundwork long before that.

About eighteen months before God invited me to take up the apostolate, I had a supernatural experience of the passion of the Church.  It was an event that at first seemed apocalyptic, and later full of omens and portents.  As I've grown deeper in the faith, I now view the experience as an invitation and a sober warning rather than a glimpse of the End Times.  It happened on Monday of Holy Week, April 2, 2012, while I was driving home from a hike in the Columbia River Gorge.  I had just laid down my rosary beads to focus on the drive home when there was a sudden change in the skyline: there was a massive new celestial body in the sky.  I was startled and thought Christ had come, "like a thief in the night", to finally reconcile all things to himself.  But I remembered that the signs of the End Times had not been fulfilled, and then I noticed that the other drivers did not see the celestial body.  I calmed myself and watched: it was a bright disc that seemed like a second sun.  It was the identical size and shape as the sun, and was directly across from the sun in the sky, on the same geometric plane.

Then the second sun began to move across the sky at a deliberate pace.  As I watched the second sun, I saw that it wasn't like the real sun, but seemed an imitation, or worse, a counterfeit.  Whereas the true sun gave forth its warm, radiant yellow light, the second sun was a cool silver, shining and yet sterile and cold.  Then I realized that the second sun was moving across the sky to cover the true sun, and its movement took on a quietly ominous movement.  As it approached closer and closer--seemingly inevitable and unstoppable--the true sun seemed not to notice.  Perhaps the true sun was too regal to recognize its rival, or was resigned and at peace at the approaching counterfeit.  When the second sun finally reached the true sun, there were no fireworks or spectacles: the true sun serenely absorbed the counterfeit sun and it was gone in an instant.

Two days later, Wednesday of Holy Week, Christ asked, "Won't you share my passion?"  My spiritual director and I shared the same interpretation of the experiences.  The sun is an icon of Christ.  The second or counterfeit sun, is the spirit of anti-Christ, a false gospel that many mistake for the true Gospel, and which is ascendant in vast swaths of the world.  It's an anti-gospel of scientism, materialism, individualism, sexual liberation, idle entertainment, and the glory of man at the expense of the cross and the love of God.  As men increasingly prefer the anti-gospel to the Gospel, the Church will be abandoned and betrayed.  The cheering crowds from Palm Sunday will scatter, the apostles will hide and dissemble, and there is always Judas.

The Church, the new Israel, has undergone many passions over the millennia, just as the old Israel did  before Christ's coming.  Some saints and spiritual writers have said that every generation has its passion, though some passions are clearly worse than others.  A week or so after his passion, Christ appeared to the apostles and calmly spoke, "Peace be with you."  Then he said it again, because he knows we are poor listeners, "Peace be with you."  Christ, the true sun, is always at peace even as the false suns move across the sky.  The false suns always seem confident of victory; their triumph appears unimpeded and sure, and yet they are effortlessly swallowed up by the true sun.

The Springtime

In every passion there is a Springtime, those moments of resurrection and new life.  St. John Paul II famously predicted a "new springtime" for the Church, but he also famously declared in 1978 that we have entered "the final confrontation between the Church and the anti-Church, of the Gospel versus the anti-Gospel".  So how do we square these two prophecies?  In the mind of the Church there is no contradiction.  The history of our faith is ancient and sure, and we mustn't think as the world thinks.  Throughout the centuries, the Church has always been most fecund in times of crisis--just as our Lord's greatest triumph came with his bloodshed.  Thus, the Church has always had a maxim, articulated by Tertullian, "the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church".  Sometimes the martyrdom runs red with blood as we now see in parts of Africa, the Middle East and even Asia, and sometimes it is the "white" martyrdom of willingly losing most of what you hold dear.

Even if we're not called to red or white martyrdom, new life will spring from our faith and sacrifices.  He is asking us to overcome ourselves with grace, and share in the sufferings to come.  If we share in his passion, then the Church will enjoy a resurrection, a new springtime.

Three weeks ago my wife gave birth to a baby boy, Gabriel Kristoff.  My wife remained open to life even after two straight miscarriages, and the challenges that come with childbirth in your 40s. That's faith and a sign of Spring.

In another sign of Spring, Daniel O'Connor, a young man from Albany, New York has been evangelizing the streets in his Sunday best and a giant Divine Mercy button.  He has invited others to join him here.  I noticed that Daniel has a similar take on the "signs of the times" even as he sets out to evangelize.  My next post will be a meditation on this seeming paradox: Christ invites us to follow him even as he signals that the tide is coming in against us.

Finally, a few weeks back I sent Josh his tunic to evangelize in Louisville.  He had only been wearing an old sweatshirt with the Jesus Caritas heart.  Now he's eager for Spring to melt the snow so he can resume walking the streets.  Springtime is coming, and the Lord comes with it.

Josh's wool tunic is several shades darker than mine

Reflections on Evangelization, II: Spiritual Growth through Evangelization

Yesterday I walked the streets for the final time before my wife has our baby boy.  It was a spirit-filled experience, not least because I read the second half of Matthew Manint's free little e-book, Like a Dove in the Cleft of a Rock.  It is a beautiful spiritual meditation by a consecrated layman with a special devotion to Blessed Charles de Foucauld.  I found myself repeating the plea to our Lord,

"Draw me after you, let us make haste."

Lord, draw me up after you, and help me follow your quick steps up the holy mountain.  Let us make haste, the time is short.

I'm happy to say that my prayers have not been in vain.  The Lord has drawn me up after him, and the vehicle of my sanctification has been my ministry on the streets.  In fact, I have been the great beneficiary of my own evangelization efforts!  I only wish I could say that those on the street have benefited as much.

One way to witness my spiritual growth is to consider some of the changes in my perception of the ministry and it's challenges.  One shift in perception concerns how I inwardly respond to verbal abuse.  When I first began the apostolate, I was mildly disturbed by hostile stares or angry shouts from passing cars, but I would consciously offer it up to God the Father as a small sacrifice.  Then after a few months I ceased to be disturbed, and walked on in peace--happy to be of some use to God, but sorrowful for the sake of the angry person.  But yesterday God gave me the grace to take things a little deeper.  A shrill voice yelled from a passing car, "Go to hell!"  And for the first time I realized, "Lord, I'm not worthy to be despised for your sake.  Who am I to be given such a great grace as to be despised for doing your will?"  That thought had never occurred to me before, but now it seemed so obvious.  I used to think I was a splendid candidate to suffer for our Lord, how could I have been so presumptuous?

A similar shift in perception concerns my attitude toward the apostolate itself.  When I first began the apostolate, I did it largely from a sense of duty and curiosity.  But I quickly discovered that it was painful to walk the streets: the weather was often bad, my feet and joints were tired, the tunic was awkward and I stood out amidst passers-by, there was the occasional abuse, and the spiritual combat was especially draining.  I even had to fight off feelings of resentment, "Thanks a lot God for giving me this thankless ministry."  But I grudgingly endured it, and forced myself out the door, week after week.  Then the gloom broke and I began to be at peace with the ministry, and it just became a part of my weekly schedule and who I am.  Then yesterday God gave me an even deeper grace.  For the first time I realized that I was blessed to be given this ministry.  It was a conviction of the heart, and not an intellectual exercise.  I didn't even give myself reasons, I just knew it to be true.  

In just one short year I have progressed from resenting and grappling with the ministry to embracing it as a great blessing.  It seems paradoxical that evangelizing others would offer a considerable source for our own sanctification. After all, we presumably evangelize out of love for others and God, and not for our own sake.  But when we commit ourselves, week in and week out, to share the Gospel with those who lack it, Christ slowly saturates our own hearts with his love.  In making this sacrifice for the sanctification of others, we are doing what Christ did in becoming man and accepting the cross for us.  By imitating him, we become more like him, the "holy one of God".  At first our hearts are small and hard, but if we persevere then they swell and grow until they begin to more closely resemble his own.  Then the more closely they resemble his own, the more efficacious our efforts at evangelization.  He is always trying to build us up since he desires to do his work through us, but we always slow the progress!

So if you want to be holy, then sacrifice for the sanctification of others.  Evangelize the streets, evangelize and pray for your friends and neighbors, pray and counsel outside Planned Parenthood, and you'll soon find that you are growing closer to Christ.  It's a paradox of the spiritual life, but then again, most of the deep truths of our faith are counter-intuitive.

Reflections on Evangelization: Laughter should come easy

"May the good Lord deliver us from gloomy saints!"
                                                                            --St. Teresa of Avila

Humor is essential for growth in the spiritual life.  It is therapeutic and refreshing, lifting the weight of our cares. In fact, abiding humor is a sign of a healthy soul.  But it isn't just any form of humor, for even the demons laugh and find some refreshment in their jokes and gags.  The humor of demons' springs from malice and pride--their jokes always point back to their own prowess or cleverness, and what they find easy to despise (namely, us).  As Christians, it should be expected that our sources of humor run in the opposite direction: not in pride, but in our littleness and dependence on God; not in our own craft, but in welcoming the providential surprises of God; not in despising the follies of his "poor banished children of Eve", but in a gently pitying mirth.  

In the past several decades we have all heard laymen and religious reject talk of sin, the devil and spiritual warfare as gloomy and destructive of joy, but they have it exactly wrong.  In fact, it is only through a sober understanding of sin that we are freed for the joyful fruits of humility, and it it only by living each day in spiritual combat that we can laugh at our topsy-turvy world.  An abiding sense of our sin and weakness is not a psychological or spiritual handicap, it is actually a great grace from God!  Once we recognize our dependence on God's mercy and our need for angelic aid, then we will have the ability to laugh at ourselves and our circumstances.

There have been many amusing moments as I walk the streets and many of those moments point back to my own weakness and foolishness.  I think, for example, of the first time I walked the streets in my freshly sewn tunic.  A powerful wind repeatedly blew the front 'yoke' of my tunic with the Jesus Caritas heart right back into my face.  I'm sure the demons had a good laugh and I conceded it was funny since I had set out with such a solemn sense of purpose, a hidden belief in my own importance.  On another occasion a woman who knew how to party (what some people call a 'barfly') saw me coming and stepped out in front of me to block my path.  She straddled the sidewalk in her faded jean shorts, and firmly planted her hands against the pink tank top at her hips.  I looked into her wrinkled tan face, at the black eye-liner and sparkling lip gloss, and watched her erupt in hoarse laughter as she reached out and poked at my tunic.  I immediately joined her laughter.  She was right:  I looked like a fool, like a wayward time-traveller walking the streets.  If a Christian can't laugh--especially at himself--then he is finished.  He will collapse under the weight of his own seriousness and the gravity of the times.  He will collapse because he has secretly placed himself at the center of things rather than trusting that Christ has overcome the world.

St. Therese having some fun as Joan of Arc

The other day I was gripped by the seeming absurdity, the utter implausibility, of the traditional Catholic worldview.  In the age of microscopes that can peer at "invisible" organisms, and telescopes that can examine distant solar systems, who can still maintain a belief in invisible spirits--both holy and wicked?  Who can believe that all of our good and wicked actions will reverberate into eternity?  Where is this all-powerful, all-knowing, all-loving God with his Kingdom of Heaven and barren desert of Hell?  Hasn't science, the ingenuity and industry of man, uncovered everything and finally rendered life safe and predictable?  Mankind no longer has to cower in caves, fearful of the creatures in the forest, mysterious diseases and the wrath of the gods.  Civilization has finally won!  Or so it seems.

But all is not what it seems, and the faithful Christian needs a healthy sense of humor about these things.  When I walk the streets and a wounded, self-righteous person glowers at me as though I am his enemy, I laugh inwardly because he has it exactly wrong.  It is a moment of absurdity.  So often I want to say, "But I am the best friend you've got!  I will pray and sacrifice for you, and I want nothing in return.  But those whom you call your "friends", what do they want from you?"

We must have humility, humor and gratitude because the scales have fallen from our eyes, and what God has kept from the learned and powerful, he has revealed to the little ones.  It is a great grace and a great responsibility.  May we have the good humor to continue undisturbed along the Lord's path.

Where are the Catholic Street Evangelists?

Many, many people hereabouts are not becoming Christians for one reason only: there is nobody to make them Christians.  Again and again I have thought of going round the universities of Europe, especially Paris, and everywhere crying out like a madman, riveting the attention of those with more learning than charity: "What a tragedy: how many souls are being shut out of heaven and falling into hell, thanks to you!"  I wish they would work as hard at this as they do at their books, and so settle their account with God for their learning and talents entrusted to them.    
                                             --St. Francis Xavier, from a letter recently featured in the Divine Office

The saints have a way of getting our attention.  Today the Church is blessed with countless laymen whom God has entrusted with "learning and talents", and yet so few take the faith to the streets.  Pope Francis has even implored Catholics to go out into the world, but perhaps his call has gotten lost in the headlines.  There is an abundance of Catholic books on seemingly every subject (with more published every year), and there is a dizzying number of online ministries and blogs, and yet all we see on the streets are Mormons, Jehovah's Witnesses and the occasional fundamentalist.  Yet St. Paul, the most piercing theologian the Church has ever known, was also her most tireless street evangelist.

The great saints agree that writing is secondary to the direct care of souls.  St. John Marie Vianney, the Cure of Ars, writes, "St. Francis de Sales, that great saint, would leave off writing with the letter of a word half-formed, in order to reply to an interruption."  In other words, any human need, any interruption by a soul "made in the image and likeness of God" commanded his attention over the demands of his writing ministry.  He still managed to write his pamphlets and books, but they were secondary to his face-to-face encounters with his fellow man.

Writing a book or managing a website can be an enjoyable and rewarding use of our time, but it can also be a time-comsuming process that only yields a small circulation among readers.  I'm writing a book like everyone else (hopefully my only book), and whenever I have a block of free time I ask God, "Should I write my book, or do the street ministry?" I always get the same impression: I should walk the streets.  The book will get done, but on God's schedule.  In fact, there's a secret: if I walk the streets when called, the next time I sit down to write, the word pours out quick and fresh. God's grace more than compensates for the time I've "lost" writing my book.  But it also goes deeper than that.  The material I write is also livelier because street evangelization rekindles the sacred fountains of the Christian imagination.

There are many reasons Christians don't pursue street ministry, but there seems to be one universal reaction to the apostolate: "Be safe!" or "Be careful out there."  or "That sounds dangerous."  Now there are better neighborhoods to walk if you'd like, and all neighborhoods need a visible Catholic presence, but I've been walking the grittier streets for a year and I've never felt threatened.  Not once.  The threat seems to be in the mind.  Perhaps the real threat, is walking out our front door and mixing with those we don't normally associate with.  The prostitutes, the angry young men, the at-risk youth, the addicts, the ex-cons.  But sometimes they are better company, more real, more compassionate, more substantial than we could ever imagine.  For my part, I used to sit in academic conferences and listen to secular professors and graduate students indulge in dreamy, narcissistic "social theorizing", and think, "I actually prefer the company of my solid cons back in maximum security prison.  At least they know what real life is like, what it means to love and hate and suffer and struggle."

But it's easy to see why people avoid doing street ministry.  Take last night, for example.  As I passed a food cart pavillion on SE 82nd, two young men jeered at me in between eating Philly cheesesteaks.  They hoped they might get a rise out of me, and so they shouted louder and louder until I was gone.  Then a john and a prostitute in her early twenties passed me traveling in the opposite direction.  She wore an electric pink down jacket and cap, and wearily trailed the john by three yards.  As I passed she gave me a sarcastic reproach, "Sorry I spit on the sidewalk."  A half hour later I passed the john again, but he was alone this time.  He cast his head down and avoided making eye contact again, but this time his head gave an unnatural jerk to the side as I passed, as a man flinches when a flashlight is shone in his eyes. I thought it had a spiritual significance, as though he were recoiling from Christ.  Perhaps it was like the reprobate who dies and then impulsively flees from the Lord upon seeing the glory of His love.

Fifteen minutes later I saw the young prostitute by the entrance of 7/11, waiting for the next john.  It's the usual hang out for prostitutes and the rare pimp.  She saw my discreet wave, but just stood watching me.  I couldn't read her expression. I kept looking back in the hope she would leave her post to talk, but she just watched me until I passed out of sight.

When I was near home, I passed the window of a little shop on Foster that had recently changed hands.  The shop used to be called "Vice", and sold smoking paraphernalia, lingerie, lubricants and sex toys.  Now it had a large poster in the window with a Latin title and symbols that seemed Catholic at first glance.  I felt a twinge of hope, maybe I've got some new friends in the neighborhood!  The poster had a dove and a cross and a chalice, with the title "Ordo Templi Orientis". But as I looked closer I realized the poster was merely aping Catholic imagery, and was an occultist inversion of the faith. When I got home I googled the name, and saw it was a secret esoteric society once associated with Aleister Crowley. Now this "secret society" is silly nonsense, a self-important pipe-dream of two or three lonely souls in the neighborhood, but they need prayer and sacrifice.

In fact, our cities are full of people just like the ones I met last night, and we desperately need Christians to witness to them.  Our Lord's words are timeless, "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few."  Join St. Paul Street Evangelization, witness at Planned Parenthood every week, visit the abandoned in care facilities, or even start your own street apostolate.  But get out there!

Happy Feast Day, Blessed Charles!

Today is the Feast Day of Blessed Charles de Foucauld, patron of the apostolate and of so many other worthy lay and religious groups.  He was murdered 98 years ago today by an anxious young tribesman who was assigned to guard him while the rest of the warriors pillaged Charles's little compound.  In honor of his feast, I was intent on walking the streets today, and I had some hope that something special might happen.  I wasn't disappointed.  Well, at least I wasn't disappointed in Blessed Charles's sense of humor.  A cheerfully intoxicated fifty year-old woman followed me and insisted that I share her fried chicken leg.  Perhaps the chicken was meant for Blessed Charles's feast?  If so, I missed the clue. Instead I managed to distract her enough with friendly questions to avoid eating the leg.  She was great fun though, and could certainly use a few prayers.

After walking the streets I went to the archdiocese to talk to Todd Cooper, the acting Director of Evangelization, about the apostolate.  He was surprised when I pointed out that he had scheduled the meeting on Blessed Charles's Feast day, but as we know, Heaven is full of surprises.  I think the meeting was very rewarding for both us, and he was very patient when I went to tears talking about some of my old convict buddies.  Some of those buddies did me a great deal of good behind bars, and they are still in prison today.  Todd assured me I had Archbishop Sample's blessing, and said that when it comes to street ministry, "You're all we've got."  That made my eyes widen, and I felt like stepping out into the cold to resume the apostolate.  I'm sure the Lord will send Portland more workers soon since we know that Heaven's not stingy. God has already sent us Josh in Louisville, and there are plenty of good men in Portland.  My Mom's already agreed to sew two tunics to have on hand, and I've already got the fabric ready!