As we seem to begin an emergence from the depths of the Covid-19 pandemic here is, perhaps, for some of us, a new view of what holiness means. Think on it:
Christian holiness can no longer be considered a matter purely of individual and isolated acts of virtue. It must also be be seen as a part of a great collective effort for spiritual and cultural renewal in society, to produce conditions in which all can work and enjoy the just fruits of their labor in peace. (Thomas Merton, Life and Holiness, p. 121)
Today we celebrate Pope John XXIII, canonized (some would add “finally!”) by Pope Francis in 2014. The website 
Some years ago I had the privilege of visiting the town of Assisi in Italy. The visit was brief and the focus was, as one might think, the holy places associated with St. Francis. It was an extraordinary six hours, and I often long to return for a longer visit. One of my most vivid memories, however, was not of the places and stories of Francis alone – although those remain as well – but of walking down the path to the Church of San Damiano. Somehow, the olive trees that lined the path seemed to shimmer in the sunlight as if they were saying to me, “Pay attention, for this place you are approaching is extraordinarily holy.” San Damiano became the home of St. Clare and her followers in 1212 and she never left but died there on August 11, 1253. The intense holiness of the saint and her Sisters, who lived a poor and very simple life of prayer, can be felt in the walls of the refectory, in the oratory where they prayed and the dormitory where a cross marks the spot of Clare’s death. What, one wonders, creates such a living vibration in a place where life was so “daily?” Intention and motivation, I suspect. A famous quote of St. Clare gives a hint of an answer.
Today is The Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, a designation that makes me, as a “cradle Catholic,” sit up and take notice. It’s the words Solemnity and Most that call attention to the holiness of Jesus as the model for life. In this way, my focus shifts from the beating and bleeding heart in the images of Jesus on the walls of many Catholic homes to a deeper consciousness that does not negate the truth of that devotion but expands and personalizes it in a new way. Lest the reader assume that I have left tradition behind, it seems important to mention that I have an image of the Sacred Heart in my prayer space at home. It is the totality of the symbols – the face of Jesus, the heart and fire illuminating it – and yes, drops of blood as a sign of his life’s sacrifice – that guides my prayer toward love each day.
It seems a very long time since I finally asked Jan Phillips to come to my hometown to share her creativity and thoughts about evolutionary consciousness. I worried that there would not be enough people to “fill the house.” She’s rather famous now. Recently, however, when I raised that concern in an e-mail message to her (having already committed to bringing her all the way from California), it was the Jan that I have known for almost 50 years that responded. Whatever number we have will be perfect, she said. The fewer there are, the deeper we can go. I’m okay with any size.
There is no possibility of missing the message in today’s text from the Letter to the Hebrews. No time for what was called “lollygagging” in the old days. These are serious times that demand our full attention. Listen then to how we are to conduct ourselves: