Have you ever felt hopeless? Or given up hope when things were really desperate? It’s an awful position to be in.  It feels like the bottom of the world is caving-in. There’s nothing to hold onto, no solid footing. 

Addicts often feel hopeless. They’re caught in a trap they don’t seem able to spring. After repeated efforts to “kick the habit” (whatever the addiction may be), they give up hope.  

Well-meaning people ask,”Why don’t you just quit.?” But God knows the addict has tried—over and over again. Nothing seems to work. It’s hopeless. Or so it seems. 

Recovery happens when, by the grace of God, the addict is able to “hope against hope,” to trust even when there is no earthly reason to believe that hope is possible.  This requires surrender, the willingness to let go of all desire to control the situation or fix the problem. 

The Bible says that Abraham believed—hoping against hope—that God would be true to his promise. He trusted that even when things seem completely hopeless, God’s love does not fail us.

That’s why the first three steps in recovery are:

• We admitted we were powerless -- that our lives had become unmanageable. ... 
• Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. ... 
• Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

Surrender, believe and take action even in the face of utter hopelessness. That’s when miracles happen and hope springs eternal.  That’s when “hopeless addicts” are reborn as sober women and men whose futures are bright and whose lives are filled with the bright promises of hope. 

Of course, you don’t have to be an addict to experience hopelessness. Life’s troubles are enough to overwhelm us at times. The first three steps of recovery are valid for everyone. They are practical steps built on universal principles of spirituality. 

In the end, we all have to admit we are powerless. If we can believe in a High Power and, hoping against hope, surrender our will and our lives to the care of a loving and merciful God, all will be well. 

Do you have a gratitude list? It should be updated daily to remind us that no matter what our problems are we have much to be thankful for.

When I was 18, I decided that I had had enough of our family's problems, and I announced to my parents that I was leaving and not coming back. My mother's response was: "Be sure to say thank you as you walk out the door."

My mother, Helen C. Conway, taught me to say thank you and to appreciate all God's gifts--in good times and bad.

Gratitude is a mysterious thing. You can't fake it. Either you're grateful or you’re not. Sometimes it's a struggle to get there. Anger, loneliness, fear and other emotions get in the way. But if I can say "thank you" (and mean it) before I walk out the door, my perspective changes. I can see things differently. I can recognize that the glass is half full, that I have been blessed far beyond my difficulties. I can be free of worries, guilt, imperfections--even the evil influences in my life. If I can say "thank you" (and mean it), I can be free.

What are the top 10 things on my gratitude list?

1. A loving God who treats me much better than I deserve
2. The gift of Life
3. My wife, Sharon
4. My five children, Suzanne, Catherine, Margaret, Mary and Dan
5. My granddaughter, Jocelyn
6. Great family members and friends located all over the country (and in Europe)
7. Good work for the Church with colleagues I admire
8. The ability to write
9. Books, music and the arts
10. Relatively good health

With all these gifts--and many more--why should I worry? The Lord is my shepherd. Nothing shall I want. In good times and bad, he watches over me. He is true to his promises. All I need to do is remember to say "thank you" as I walk out the door.

Without sacrifice, there is no forgiveness (see Hebrews 9/22). And without forgiveness there can be no peace.  

I grew up on Lalemont Road in University Heights, Ohio, and went to Gesu School across the street from John Carroll University. The Jesuits were a dominant presence in our neighborhood. (The street we lived on was named for Jerome Lalemont, SJ, a companion of St. Isaac Jogues.) Because our parish was staffed by Jesuit priests, we frequently heard stories of Jesuit saints—Ignatius, Francis Xavier and especially the North American martyrs. Tales of heroism involving intense personal sacrifice in the face of painful torture and a bloody death were fascinating to us children.

I remember attending a “vocations talk” by our pastor, Father Francis T. Dietz, SJ, that painted the priesthood as a life filled with challenge and difficulty requiring courage and bravery. Father Dietz appealed to our imaginations by stressing not the “soft” life of a parish priest but the arduous life of a missionary in a hostile environment filled with danger, hardships and suffering.

Of course, this is the Via Crucis, the Way of the Cross, which every disciple of Jesus is called to follow. Pope Francis, true to his Jesuit roots, reminds us constantly that we are called to get off our cozy couches and move outside our comfort zones--to the unknown, often dangerous "peripheries." No one who recalls the stories of the Jesuit martyrs can forget their sacrifices. The sheer brutality of the massacres they were subjected to defies belief. The horrors are unimaginable. Yet they endured them peacefully—with absolute confidence in God’s saving power.

The key to understanding this phenomenon is forgiveness. The North American martyrs, like Jesus himself, would have been totally justified hating their enemies and seeking revenge. Instead, they asked God to forgive them. The result was a profound peace.

Scripture says that without sacrifice (often bloody), there is no forgiveness. And without forgiveness, there can be no peace. Why? Because hatred, vengeance and retribution can never satisfy us. We always want more bloodshed.

This is why the death penalty never satisfies society's need for justice. In the rarest of cases, it might be necessary to protect innocent life (in the same way that killing someone in self defense may be necessary), but it can never be the best option or the right solution to society's problems. Killing begets killing. Violence feeds on itself and multiplies beyond control. To achieve lasting peace, we must learn to forgive even our bitterest enemies.

Not all of the North American saints were martyrs, but all made tremendous sacrifices as missionary disciples of Jesus Christ. And all were required to forgive others and "let go" of the hardships and injustices they were forced to endure.  



 

Do you remember George Burns and Gracie Allen? They were a comedy team from the old days of vaudeville, radio and TV. George was the straight man. Gracie was a comic genius whose “illogical logic” delighted and confused everyone she interacted with.

For reasons I don’t fully understand, I decided to bring Gracie and George into my fourth Father Turiddu novel which is set in the mid 1950s shortly after Father T’s ordination as a priest. The relationship between Burns and Allen and Father Turiddu is entirely fictional. As far as I know, young Father Sal Polizzi (aka Father Turiddu) never met George or Gracie, but in my mind they made a great team.

“Solving murder mysteries is not something we were taught in the seminary,” the young priest protests when Gracie asks him to help her free her nephew  who she believes has been falsely accused of murder.

“I’m psychic,” Gracie responds. “I know you can do it. Besides, I have experience. Many years ago, I helped a detective, Philo Vance, solve a murder mystery. They wrote a book about it—and later a movie—called ‘The Gracie Allen Murder Case.’ Won’t you please help me, Father? I know my cousin is innocent. He’s a good boy, all things considered.”

Father T agrees, of course, and the result is lots of fun!

Check out Father Turiddu and the Second Gracie Allen Murder Case. It’s available at www.danielconwayauthor.com.

Check out my first novel, Father Turiddu: The Savior of the City. It’s available at danielconwayauthor.com.

I first began writing fictional stories about Monsignor Salvatore E. Polizzi (aka Father Turiddu) when I was working in the Archdiocese of St. Louis. I had met Msgr. Polizzi many years before, but I came to know him intimately during my St. Louis years. We shared many meals together and he shared with me hundreds of stories of his personal life and ministry. I learned about his Sicilian American family and their rise from poverty to success. I was introduced to his work as an urban planner in the days when “white flight” threatened to destroy the Italian American parish and the interstate highway  system nearly cut off the community from essential police, fire and rescues services. Young Father Polizzi’s leadership role in helping prevent these urban disasters earned him the honorary title I’ll Salvatore de la Citta’ (The Savior of the City).

Now in his mid-eighties, Monsignor Polizzi is still an active pastor of a city parish with a thriving elementary school. He is still engaged with his archdiocese and with many different civic organizations. He remains loyal to his family and his Church—in spite of occasional quarrels with both.

Want to learn more about this fascinating man who I call Father T? Read the first novel. If you like it, there are three more!

End of story. 

Love transcends justice. Grace surpasses every law. The result is not a negation but a deepening or fulfillment of both justice and law.

How do you know when someone loves you? When they treat you better than you deserve; when they go out of their way to help you, care for you, or be with you. Love transcends justice. That means that it always “goes the extra mile.” Instead of treating you justly and fairly, someone who loves you exceeds all expectations. He gives generously (not equitably). She goes far beyond the ordinary limits of what is right in order to share with you everything she has.


Grace is God’s love which is freely given and which flows unceasingly from the sacred heart of Jesus. Law proscribes. It sets limits, establishing boundaries. Grace is limitless—love without borders. It does not set aside the law, but it does surpass it. As Jesus said, the law forbids all forms of violence, but grace goes much further. It allows us to forgive our enemies and to pray for our persecutors.

When we open our hardened hearts and allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by God’s amazing grace, we become true lovers. Yes, we observe the precepts of justice and treat everyone fairly. Yes, we follow the law and we’re faithful to the the dictates of conscience (inscribed on our hearts). But with the help of God’s grace, we can do so much more. We can love. We can be grace-filled. We can break through every boundary and exceed all expectations!

For a powerful example of love exceeding all expectations, re-read the parable of The Good Samaritan (Luke 25-37). Or any of the passion narratives in the four Gospels. Here is love without limits inviting us to be transformed by grace so that we, too, can surpass what is expected and do so much more.

The aim of Christian hope is a gift, the gift of God's love, which we do not own but which is the most precious gift we will ever receive.

One of my mother's favorite poems was Alexander Pope's "An Essay on Man" which begins with the powerful affirmation that "hope springs eternal in the human breast." Whenever we were feeling "down in the dumps" (one of my father's expressions), Mom would remind us that hope springs eternal. 

But does it really--or is this just wishful thinking?

My mother's experience certainly validated hope's eternal quality. She suffered terribly from a disease that seemed hopeless, but by the grace of God (she would say), she was able to recover one day at a time and live a rich and rewarding life. One of the keys to life's mysteries (and my mother's story) lies in the rest of Pope's poem. "The soul, uneasy and confined from home, rests and expatriates in a life to come."

Our hearts are restless, Augustine says, until they rest in God. We are spiritual beings and our most profound longing is for union with God and one another. Perfect union can only be found "in a life to come." Until then, we are "uneasy and confined from home," strangers who constantly search for our true homeland which is Love. 

God is Love, but we forget this and search for Love in many other places none of which can truly satisfy our cravings. The result is disappointment, confusion and despair. 

And yet, hope springs eternal--calling us to seek and find Love in the humblest and most  unlikely places: including among the poor, the outcasts and strangers. As spiritual seekers (pilgrims, sojourners and migrants), we never "are" but we are always "to be." That is a great blessing. The gift of hope, which is the most precious gift we will ever receive, prevents us from being permanently "down in the dumps" or stuck in our sins. 

As the poet says:

Hope springs eternal in the human breast;

Man never is, but always to be blessed:

The soul, uneasy and confined from home,

Rests and expatiates in a life to come.

   Alexander Pope, An Essay on Man