Blog entry, February 13, 2026 – To Behold the Beauty of the Lord!

Joseph Macklin’s 2025 masterpiece of a mural—painted on the apse of Saint John the Evangelist Church in Jackson, Michigan—stands as a work of contemplative beauty. Its three-tiered scope takes us from the heavenly Supper of the Lamb above, surrounded by saints and angels (a cloud of witnesses), into the middle level of everyday life in Jackson, Michigan—with its familiar downtown architecture of churches, high school, library, and businesses, and finally, to the lower level of the Holy Week Triduum, with Mary and John at the foot of the cross in the center.

One cannot help but be drawn contemplatively into the various scenes. In fact, to celebrate Eucharist at Saint John, with the priest elevating the host, raises one up, through the sacrifice of Christ’s body and blood, towards the lamb of God above, slain to take away the sins of the world. Bishop Robert Barron, following one of his theological heroes, Hans Urs Von Balthasar, often suggests that beauty is a good way to begin evangelizing our skeptical, relativistic culture. In an era that loves to diminish truth and goodness, beauty can still draw in people powerfully. That is the effect of Macklin’s masterpiece; it draws us into truth through beauty.

Back in college, not long after Christ found me, I began memorizing Scripture—key New Testament verses, but also entire Psalms. One of my favorite Psalms over the years has been Psalm 27. You may recognize the first line of the Psalm since it appears often in liturgical antiphons and the daily readings: “The Lord is my light and salvation; whom shall I fear?”

Recently, around the dinner table with friends, the question was posed for everyone to answer: “What is the Bible verse that serves as a guide for your life?” Particular verses in Psalm 27 have stood out during particular stages of my life and yet one has gradually emerged as my favorite, verse four: “One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in his temple.” I realized as we went around the table to answer the question, that Psalm 27:4 had become my life verse. This was partly due to my love for the church—a deep desire to behold the beauty of the Lord in his temple, in the church, through the Word and through the liturgy. That desire eventually led me to the Catholic Church, after spending three decades serving as a United Methodist minister.

Worshipping at Saint John since the unveiling of the apse mural fulfills this life-long desire of mine—to behold the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in his temple. Notice, too, that Psalm 27:4 begins with the bold statement, “One thing have I asked for.” What is it human beings desire most? Is it not intimacy with God? Isn’t that what we were created for in the garden—to love and adore God, to worship and serve him. Mary at the feet of Jesus desired only “one thing,” and Jesus told her sister Martha that Mary desired the better part.

Even before Macklin’s masterpiece was unveiled on Christmas Eve 2025, the Saint John motto was “Come and see.” How very fitting. Early in John’s Gospel, two disciples of John the Baptist follow Jesus. Jesus turns and asks them, “What are you looking for?” They stammer, “Where are you staying?” In other words, we want to be with you, to remain in your presence. Our Lord replies so tenderly, “Come and see.” Macklin’s mural at Saint John beckons: Come and see, come and worship, come behold the beauty of the Lord and inquire in his temple.

Blog entry, July 21, 2025 – Saints Preserve Us!

Here at Fish on Fridays we aim to introduce people living around the Great Lakes, or people visiting the region, to the Saints that have gone before us here—Bishop Baraga, Blessed Solanus Casey, or the North American martyrs, for instance.

One of the most difficult practices for many non-Catholics to fathom is devotion to the Saints. Although Saints are not a difficult concept for any of us to understand, some misconceptions may need clarifying. One of the most common misunderstandings concerns why Catholics worship Saints, or why we pray to Saints (especially to Mary) instead of going straight to Jesus. What ought to be stressed at the outset is that worship is something reserved for God alone—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Catholics do not worship Saints. Instead, they honor or venerate them—turning to them for inspiration, for sources of imitation, and to ask for their intercession.

Any Christian can understand the need for inspiration when it comes to living the life Christ offers just as any athlete needs inspiration to pursue the rigors of a sport. “Discovering the Catholic Church,” said G. K. Chesterton, “is perhaps the most pleasant and straightforward part of the business; easier than joining the Catholic Church and much easier than trying to live the Catholic life” (The Catholic Church and Conversion, 91). We need encouragement from coaches who model the rigorous Christian life.

Consider, then, whom you admire, those you imitate. At one level we respect great sports heroes, musicians, and actors. But at another level, there are people who have contributed greatly to our development as human beings—a coach, high school teacher, or grandmother. At still another level, we can recall people who have shaped our faith—perhaps again, a coach, high school teacher, or grandmother. Many of us also have been influenced by pastors, priests, or Christian authors. Most Christians, for example, appreciate the clarity C. S. Lewis brings to the Faith. G. K. Chesterton was another thinker who became a personal mentor for me through his writing and example.

One of the best reasons to consider studying the lives of the Saints is because they illuminate—in different life situations and contexts—what it means to follow Christ. The Catechism suggests that “By canonizing some of the faithful, i.e., by solemnly proclaiming that they practiced heroic virtue and lived in fidelity to God’s grace, the Church recognizes the power of the Spirit of holiness within her and sustains the hope of believers by proposing the saints to them as models and intercessors” (CCC para. 828, italics added). When the Church began to convert the “barbarian” tribes in Western Europe in the 7^th century—the Franks, the Celts, the Visigoths, Ostrogoths—bishops and priests streamlined catechesis to Gospel stories and lives of the Saints. Why? First, because the Gospels and lives of the Saints are communicated in story form, clothed in human narrative as it were. Second, because both the Gospels and the Saints represent a kind of distillation of the Christian life—giving us focused examples of what it means to follow Christ. A famous saint’s story itself offers just such an experience of influence in 1521. When Ignatius of Loyola was convalescing in the family castle after being wounded in battle by a cannon ball, he read two sorts of books. The first, about adventurous lives of chivalry (the rich and famous), left him feeling depressed. The second sort about the life of Christ and of the Saints inspired him, encouraging him to live for God just as the Saints had.

We need coaches in life. We long for inspiration that can stir us to strive after our best selves. The Apostle Paul wrote the Corinthians: “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ” (1 Corinthians 11:1). Look to Christ. Yes. But it may help also to look at those who have already lived the Christian life we are trying to live now. The author of Hebrews spends the whole of chapter eleven recounting the Saints and heroes, not only of the Old Covenant, but extending his litany into the martyrs of the Church. His conclusion comes at the beginning of chapter twelve: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us” (Hebrews 12:1). In the Great Lakes region, we too are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.

One of the beautiful things about the Saints is their great variety and their deep humanity. “How monotonously alike all the great tyrants and conquerors have been,” suggested C. S. Lewis; “how gloriously different are the saints.” What that means is that we will discover Saints that particularly fit us—who seem to speak our language and think our thoughts. Of course, the Saints are not perfected people, as we see in Scripture with figures like the patriarch Jacob or the disciple Peter. Yet Saints are honest. Therese of Lisieux knew her weaknesses—and held her littleness a badge of the mercy of Jesus. Chesterton wrote: “There are saints indeed in my religion; but a Saint only means a man who really knows that he is a sinner.” Perhaps that is why we sense them as accessible—I’m often more like a half-converted Peter than I am like Jesus. The reason we look to the Saints of our area of the Midwest is because we hope to become more like them.

We would naturally ask help from a coach, teacher, or grandparent. Asking the Saints to pray for us, therefore, to intercede for us, is similar. Our conviction that the Saints are resources for prayer rests on our belief in the Communion of Saints. Although someone has passed from this life, belief in the Communion of Saints assures us that those who have “crossed over” are not really separated from us. For instance, if Blessed Solanus Casey still tended the door at Saint Bonaventure’s in Detroit, I might conceivably wait for hours in line to ask for his prayers. Since his soul has gone to be with the Lord, he sees more clearly now, and he still desires to intercede on behalf of God’s children.

To help us “run with perseverance the race set before us” the Church endorses the Saints for our inspiration, imitation, and intercession. Consider studying one of the holy men or women in our Great Lakes region. The closeness in proximity and time to our own lives and our ability to visit the places where they lived out their faith can encourage us in our own faith journeys. Why not plan a trip with family or friends this August to visit one of the shrines in our region? May the Saints preserve us.

Blog entry, June 23, 2025 – Another Tale of Two Cities During This Jubilee Year

Most of our married life, when we had time off work, Kimberly
and I would spend much of it with family. Since we have become Catholic—our daughter, Annesley, 2016, my wife Kimberly, 2018, and me, 2019— we’ve enjoyed attending Mass with family in Seattle, in Denver, in Kansas, and in the D.C. area where Annesley and her family live. As a recent convert, I have been surprised by the joy of experiencing the Mass in different cultural contexts.

How fun to discover in the Roman Liturgy not only continuity,
but color and change! It’s the same Mass wherever you go, no matter
what language or culture—the same divine worship of the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church proclaimed by Justin Martyr (d. 165)
and Hippolytus (d. 236). But the Mass also continually changes—not only according to liturgical seasons, or with Solemnities, but on each distinct Lord’s Day in every new place. One summer of travel, Annesley and I attended Mass in Appenzell, Switzerland, spoken in German; and on that same excursion, four of us participated in Mass in Porto Venere, Italy.

This past February, Kimberly and I visited a former student and
his family who works in the American embassy in Barbados. Yes, it was winter in Michigan; we were not going to fly to Barbados in August; but we went mainly to spend time with good friends. And it was a delightful experience—reconnecting with our friends and their kids, eating out, laying on the beach, visiting local museums. But the highlight was Mass. It was Sunday morning, and we picked the closest Catholic Church within walking distance. It happened to be St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Little did we know what was planned for that day, February 16th , the Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time. Barbadian Bishop Neil Sebastian Scantlebury presided, not merely over the Mass but over the consecration the cathedral as a Year of Jubilee Pilgrimage site. The service was lively—the music, the homily, the liturgy—all with color and tempo and joy. When announcements came at the end, ninety minutes into the service, we knew we had stumbled into an especially sacred space and time. “Everyone with a birthday stand …. Let’s sing to them.” Ten minutes later: Anyone with an anniversary stand ….” Ten minutes after that: “Do we have any visitors?” and so on. It was marvelous. After the service we asked Bishop Scantlebury if we could take a picture with him in front of the cathedral. When we returned to Jackson, Fr. Chas noted: “You may be the first people at St. John’s to receive a Jubilee Indulgence this year.” And he was probably right.

As wonderful a pilgrimage as Barbados became for Kimberly and me, I hesitate to compare it with the pilgrimage Lucian and I took recently to Detroit. Both were fabulous in their own ways. Lucian has recounted our Detroit excursion well in his recent blog. What I’d like to focus on here is our visit to the Blessed Solanus Casey Center at Saint Bonaventure Capuchin Monastery. Kimberly and I had been to the center once before—with Lucian and his wife Bernadette—and I can recall almost exactly how long ago it was, because we prayed at Blessed Solanus’s tomb for our granddaughter, who is now three-years and almost two-months old, but who was then still in utero. All grandparents think their grandchildren are magnificent miracles—but ours really are. Haha. Seriously, from the start I was drawn to Blessed Solanus Casey—not only by his miracles, but through his heart for listening to people; his deep, simple compassion and mercy; and I was drawn by his enormous faith, which issued from a deep contemplative connection with God. Blessed Solanus was plain—a typical Midwesterner in many ways—yet he was powerful; he was humble—very common—and yet thoroughly holy. To discover—in our own backyard as it were—a saint so relatable is a wonderful gift. I hope you will consider planning a pilgrimage to the Blessed Solanus Casey Center sometime this year.

“Why I am Interested in the Transformation of Catholic Culture”

My interest in the transformation of Catholic Culture derives at least
partially from teaching spiritual formation for thirty years. Questions of human transformation necessarily involve the forces surrounding us—the influences of family, church, education, local community,
nationality, ethnicity, and socio-economic status—it is primarily
forces like these that shape our thoughts and behaviors. As much as we might like to imagine our lives are the products of our free will and personal choices, in actuality it is the broader effects of culture that have more sway.

I think it’s helpful to consider culture broadly. Culture is the air we breathe. For instance, culture consists of all the things we take for granted in modern Western society—indoor plumbing, central heating, and electricity; free press and the rule of law; mobility and instant communication; consumerism. I love the story that David Foster Wallace told about two young fish swimming along. From the other direction comes an older fish who comments, “Morning boys, how’s the water?” As he passes by, the two smaller fish look at each other confusedly and stop. One soon asks the other, “What the hell is water?” Culture is like the water we do not recognize ourselves swimming in. We take it for granted. For instance, most suburban teens in Detroit probably do not recognize the unique elements of American culture that are shaping them and how those characteristics contrast with, say, rural Asian culture.

We can all agree that some cultures are healthier than others—even as some nations, or churches, or communities, or homes are either healthy or sick. Much of the rest of the world has begun to adopt influences from the West uncritically, so that fast food culture, individualism, pop music, professional sports, and social media have become worldwide cultural phenomena. Not all these influences are necessarily healthy, however. And if we fall into unhealthy cultural patterns, how do we reverse the situation? How do we heal the culture of an ailing home, church, school, or business?

Spiritual formation is about transformation. As C. S. Lewis argued in his classic book Mere Christianity, each of us is being formed spiritually moment by moment. It’s not a matter of whether we will be spiritually formed—only whether we will be formed into creatures that are more human or less human. If the Church does not form us, in
other words, if we are not shaped by Christ and our Catholic faith, our surrounding culture will form and shape us instead. If we do not allow Christ to shape us, we will be shaped by the forces of media,
consumerism, moral relativism, and the like.

What we ought to recognize also is that it is much harder to extricate ourselves from cultural influences once we’ve accepted them. Few of us will stop driving our cars or give up our cell phones, even if we come to understand their negative effects on our lives. We are creatures of habit. If this is true, we ought to approach cultural influences with caution and learn to guard ourselves against those who profit by drawing us into cultural fads.

As with any human habit, one habit can best be replaced by another, stronger or better habit. An addiction to fast food, for instance, can be countered by fasting. Let’s call this the principle of displacement. Thus, a negative cultural influence can best be expelled by a more positive one. Think of how you can get rid of some of the water in a full bathtub by putting yourself into it. As you get into the tub, your body mass will displace a certain mass of water, unfortunately onto the floor of your bathroom in this case. This example is for illustrative purposes only, not as a recommended science project to try at home.

What FishonFridays hopes to encourage is the growth and maintenance of healthy Catholic culture—through families and friends sharing their faith—by moving away from some of the destructive, self-centered features of modern American culture, and by re-learning how to be more fully human through face-to-face interactions of incarnational feasting and play. Stay tuned to FishonFridays for examples of how to displace insidious cultural influences with god-fearing and humanizing ones.

“If you do not have mirth, you will certainly have madness.” (G K Chesterton)