I think it’s safe to say that most of us started Lent 2020 off with good intentions and zeal. I always look forward to Lent as it is a time that really feeds my soul. However, around mid-March the proverbial dog-doo hit the fan. Hard.

All of a sudden we were plunged into a seriously legit Lent: No school, no get-togethers, no sports, lost jobs, lost lives, stay-at-home orders, and no Mass. Lest we thought we were all big and bad with our personal sacrifices started on Ash Wednesday, COVID-19 came along and said, “I think I’ll take your Lent and raise it up a notch.” Boy, did it.

Now, we are standing at the front of Holy Week and most of us feel a little lost. There will be no Masses for us to attend in person this week which, in a way, feels like punishment. The fact that we can’t attend Easter services in person hurts immensely. But, through all this, I have been reminded of all those Christians who throughout time have found a way to persevere when the Mass wasn’t readily available to attend in person.

Think of the Polish living under Communist Russia.

Think of the Catholics who pioneered across the United States, many times going months and months without a priest to offer them the Sacraments.

Think of the Christians today living in parts of the world where Mass is not only not available but it is a crime to even hold it.

Think of the Christians living under the persecutions of the Roman Empire.

In each of these instances, the faith of Catholics was/is tested and strengthened. They found/find creative ways to celebrate the Mass and show Christ that they long to be with Him. In ancient Roman times, Mass was conducted secretly in catacombs. Today, we are watching from home while streaming Mass online. All to be close to Him.

This is the point of Lent though, isn’t it? We are to go into the desert with Christ and join our suffering to His suffering. Up and down the ages, the saints have rejoiced when allowed the chance to suffer for Christ. It took a long time for me to understand how you could be joyful in suffering. I have read the words of numerous saints who have said, “Thank you, Lord, for allowing me the opportunity to suffer and unite this suffering to Yours.” It seems so paradoxical that great joy can come of suffering, but it’s only true when done right.

This is our chance, Catholic Pilgrims, to show up in our Faith. This is a chance to say, “You may take away my church building but I will only create it in my home. Evil may think its tamped down our flame but its only made it burn stronger.”

My daughter’s priest gave an excellent homily yesterday on Palm Sunday. He talked about how we all have passions: some are passionate about the sports we play or watch, some for their jobs, some for school and learning, and some for entertainment. Much of all these passions have been stripped from us during this time of social distancing and quarantine. Some of us don’t know what to do with ourselves when our passions have been taken from us. Who are we when we don’t have school to attend? Who are we when we don’t have sports to participate in or look forward to watching? Who are we when we can’t work or are required to work very differently than what we are used to? Who are we when we can’t operate our daily lives in our normal way?

The thing is, Christ’s Passion is all about us. He came to earth, suffered, was tortured, and ultimately crucified for every single person that has lived, is living, or will ever live. He restored us as sons and daughters of God again through His Death and Resurrection. Our passion should be to live as faithful Christians through good times and bad, through better or worse, through sickness and in health. Sound familiar? It is through our Baptism that we have been united to Christ and it is through our Confirmation that we are given the strength to live our Christian identity through trials and fire. It doesn’t matter what comes our way, we know who we are–Christians.

For all the naysayers out there that are looking for our faith to crumble, we must show them what we do when times get hard. We dig in deeper. For all those that sneer at us and say, “Oh, where is your God now?” We show them by the witness of our lives that He lives in us.

So, how do we approach this Holy Week? First, I think it is important to remember that you don’t have to do *all* the things to try to prove you are really into it. Sometimes less is more. Quality over quantity is usually a recipe for meaningful experiences. I would suggest praying the Sorrowful Mysteries on your rosary every day this week. Starting Monday, I will post each day at least one picture from the Holy Land on my social media accounts that correspond with Christ’s Passion. By Friday, you will have several pictures to meditate on. If you need help with praying the Rosary, the app Hallow is a great resource. You can try it free for several months.

I would, also, suggest watching daily Mass this week if you can. If you can’t commit to a whole week of Daily Mass, at least try for two days. Our lives have been reduced to simplicity these past weeks, maybe that is for a reason. It is in this simplicity that we can draw closer to Christ and maybe really hear what He has to tell us.

This is a Holy Week we will never forget and I assure you that in time, we will look back on it fondly. We are all saddened by not getting …

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This year, I’m focusing on stories of former atheists that converted to Catholicism. How each person comes to Christ is unique and special, but especially interesting are those that go from no belief in God, to becoming members of the Catholic Church. For January, I interviewed Barry whom I recently met on social media. Originally from the Seattle area, he now resides in Baton Rouge. His story is the stuff of movies; truly a remarkable journey. It’s not just that Barry came into the Faith and believes in Christ; he puts his faith into action. He is the Associate Director for the Office of Evangelization and Catechesis in the Diocese of Baton Rouge. He visits with imprisoned men in his area, where he brings hope and encouragement by sharing Christ’s message. From a near death experience, to studying Buddhism in the Himalayas, to overcoming alcohol/drug addiction; this is a compelling story of a search for Christ. If you are like me, you’ll find Barry’s story quite remarkable.  

1.  Were you always an atheist or did you leave the faith and become one?

I am from a typical Pacific Northwest (Seattle area) family who is in a sense “post-Christian.” What I mean by this is that I was raised in an environment that didn’t even bring up the question of God, or of the Christian faith. We had some neighbors invite us to a Disciples of Christ Protestant ecclesial community and my sisters were baptized there, but I never really thought about the meaning of it and didn’t understand it. I didn’t have a feeling about it one way or another, it just wasn’t even on my radar. I had never heard anyone in my family discuss God or speak as if there was such thing as God, and so I definitely never experienced any sort of witness to Jesus as the Christ.

So, I was, in a sense an accidental atheist from the start. I wasn’t the type of atheist who was once Christian and rebelled against the faith intentionally and deliberately, rather, I was one by accident, by circumstances. I didn’t even have a rudimentary language for talking about ultimate reality, my origin and end, first principles, virtue and sin, or good and evil. And I definitely didn’t have a vocabulary for talking about God or knowing what the orthodox Christian faith taught in respect to the existence and attributes of the Creator or that Jesus was the Son of God and that the Church communicates Him.

Like the young Augustine, I sought out my completion in the world, in transient and sensual things. I didn’t know of any other way. I do remember, nonetheless, a time of greater innocence when my conscience alone communicated a sense of right and wrong, but by 15 or 16 years old this was largely clouded out by worldly clamors.

2.  What was it that started to open the door for you, as far as considering the faith?

When I was 22 years old, I was critically injured in a car accident and had to be resuscitated. I had a near death experience. This radically changed my understanding of the meaning of life. Upon awakening from the NDE and since then, I have been involved in two primary tasks: Awakening to the gift of life and purifying my own life of attachment to sin. That path was intuitive to me after the accident and NDE though I wasn’t Christian. So I began a very intense period of spiritual searching, studying religion and philosophy. I studied both in school as an undergrad and graduate student, as well as in my personal life.

Like many in my socio-cultural demographic at the time I was more immediately drawn to the study of Indian religions, in particular Buddhism. For about five years, from 22-27 I studied it intensely in retreat and academic settings in N. America and India. I went as far as taking the five vows of a lay practitioner: 1) Abstain from killing 2) Abstain from fornication 3) Abstain from lying 4) Abstain from stealing 5) Abstain from intoxication.

It was in this milieu where I first began to exist in relationship to a transcendent source of morality and live as if my life had ultimate purpose. It was also in these contexts where I originally learned how to fast, how to be still and silent, how to meditate for long periods of time, how to renounce transient things for the sake of a transcendent goal. I also learned in this context, from a western Buddhist nun, of the moral horror of abortion. Up until that point, I though abortion could be justified. I also learned that mastubation, fornication, porn, intoxication, same sex acts, etc., were morally evil and very harmful (yes, even though everyone was doing promoting them as good and healthy!).

For the first time in my life I met men, usually Tibetan Buddhist monks (some nuns too), who were virtuous. This was very different from the men I was used to. And so, I would say, they were my first real formators in how to be a man. They taught me that a man isn’t a slave to his passions but rather gains mastery over them. The asceticism of these men was impressive, but their gentleness and kindness was even more impressive. I have always thought that if our own Christian faithful sought Jesus even half as intensely as these men sought liberation from suffering according to the path of the Buddha we wouldn’t have a priest shortage and the emptying out of our parishes in the West (I will leave that for another time).

I was in India, studying at the Library of Tibetan Works and Archives in Himachel Pradesh or the Himalayan Province, when I began to turn toward the Christian faith in earnest. I was studying Tibetan language and Buddhist Philosophy in a place called McLeod Ganj where the Tibetan government was and remains in exile. In a sense, …

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