Ninety-Six years ago today, December 9, 1921, my father, Jack Conway, was born to Margaret Nelson and Timothy Joseph Conway. He was a man of few words who loved his wife, Helen, his family, his Church and his country.

In my book, A Man of Few Words: Remembering Jack Conway, I offer the following reflections:

At my sister Anne’s wedding reception in 1979, my father was asked to propose a toast. He began by saying, “I am a man of few words and seven children.” I was struck by the simple power of his words. It was the first, and only, time I heard him speak in public, and it meant a lot to me to hear him sum up who he was in this simple phrase—“a man of few words and seven children.”

There were many other things he might have said. He was an attorney, an ardent Republican and a veteran of World War II. He was also a member of a large, prominent family in Cleveland, Ohio, whose father had been a charismatic, highly successful supermarket executive and civic leader. He was Irish-American and a devout Catholic. He played sports (football, hockey and baseball) in high school and during his early college years before he enlisted in the Army. He was even offered a football scholarship to Harvard University, but his father told him to decline it. “We can afford it,” my grandfather said. “There are many other deserving students who can’t.” He remained a passionate sports enthusiast until the day he died at age 93.

But John L. (Jack) Conway described himself as a man of few words and seven children. I don’t know whether he gave much thought to it. He probably didn’t even know he would be asked to stand up and say something that night. My guess is that when he opened his mouth to begin the toast, “I am a man of few words and seven children” is what came out—spontaneously and from the heart.

For Jack Conway, “a man of few words” meant a doer not a talker. It meant someone who was simple, straightforward and a man of his word. And that’s what he was—a man of integrity who said what he meant and who stood up for what he believed. Jack Conway saw himself as a man who didn’t talk much, but who quietly and consistently did what he knew was right.

To be the father of seven children was a source of genuine pride for him. As my sister Anne said in her eulogy, “he loved each of his children deeply and unconditionally.” And, “he was madly in love with our mother for close to 70 years.”

Jack Conway was a family man first and foremost. His parents, Margaret and Tim Conway, instilled that in him from his earliest days. He loved and respected his parents—and his two sisters and ten brothers—deeply and unconditionally, so it was natural for him to offer that same love and devotion to Helen, his wife of 50 years, and to each of us, his seven children. 

Happy Birthday, Dad. We love you and we miss you!

Slightly more than 50 years ago, in August of 1967, I saw this view of Saint Meinrad Archabbey in southern Indiana for the first time. My experiences on this “holy hill” changed my life forever. The people I met there—monks, lay faculty, fellow students and co-workers in the development office—became mentors and lifelong friends. 

My newest book, The Benedictine Way, describes simply (but I hope substantially) what I have learned from men and women who have dedicated their whole lives to seeking God in a monastic community. Their way of life is not glamorous. It is rarely attention-getting. It strives for patience, humility and wisdom—not immediately, but over the course of an entire lifetime. 

If you have visited Saint Meinrad in the past, I urge to to return. If you’ve never been there, by all means go. You’ll be pleased you did. 

Waiting in joyful hope, Advent brings out the best in us. 

Advent is a time for endurance, waiting, quietness and joyful hope. Scripture says “It is good that one wait quietly for the Lord’s salvation” (Lamentations 3:26).

How unlike the commercial pre-Christmas season with all it’s noise and impatience! How different from the preoccupation with material things, and with the buying and selling of trinkets and gadgets and the latest fashions!

Advent calls us to a renewed sense of wonder and beauty and peace. This is what we long for—the truth of our existence revealed in the most unremarkable way, the birth of a little child, the most vulnerable and innocent of all God’s creatures. 

Can it really be true that what we seek most desperately in our heart of hearts, our deepest and most ardent longing, will come to us in this way? No artifice. No pomp or circumstance. No bravado. Will he really come like a thief in the night, noticed only by outcasts and foreigners, and laid in a manger with an ox and an ass?

During Advent, we renew this joyful hope. Life is not as complicated as it seems. The hopes and fears of all the years are addressed with radical simplicity: Love comes to us in the form of a child, calling us to throw off all our anxious burdens and cast aside the baggage of our impatient adulthood. 

It is good that one wait quietly for the Lord’s salvation. 

Something is seriously wrong here. Our culture is deeply confused about the meaning of human sexuality—telling us, on the one hand, that between consenting adults “ anything goes,” and, on the other hand, fulminating with outrage whenever there is an allegation of abusive sexual behavior by someone who happens to be on the other side of our preferred place in the cultural divide. 

Of course we should be outraged when someone (anyone) forces himself on someone else, especially a child, youth or subordinate. But current expressions of indignation are laced with political overtones on both the left and the right. How is it that we are suddenly aware that behavior that was tolerated 20 years ago has become intolerable? What has changed? 

To make matters worse, reporting of allegations against powerful men in politics, business, the arts, religion and the entertainment industry has become more and more graphic. Why do we think it’s OK to report (and discuss) in detail allegations which have not yet been proven? What about the possibility of false allegations—as was the case in the 1990s when Cardinal Joseph Bernadin was accused of abusing a young man who later confessed that it never happened? I don’t recall the specifics, but I’m quite sure that—thanks be to God—the media in those days did not report the graphic details of what the young man accused the Cardinal of doing to him when he was a seminarian in the 1970s. 

Not so today. Now we are given the vivid details of what the latest public figure is accused of doing, and our understandable outrage is so great that we forget two things: 1) For very important reasons related to our freedom and basic human rights, under the law this alleged abuser is innocent until proven guilty, and 2) there really are some things that are not “fit to print” even if they turn out to be true. 

Don’t get me wrong. I am for zero tolerance of abusive sexual behavior whenever and wherever it occurs. No one has the right to impose himself or herself on an unwilling person, especially children and those who are most vulnerable. I accept (and approve of) policies that remove alleged abusers from situations where they could harm others whenever there is reason to believe that the accusations against them are credible. 

But some measure of humanity must be maintained if the accused are to be given an opportunity to disprove the charges against them. How is this possible if newspapers and other media spread salacious x-rated stories about them—especially if they do not possess the resources required to set the record straight in the court of public opinion?

If the allegations are true, the victims of these sad, sick men should not have to relive their humiliation. If the allegations are false, no one should be exposed to the scandalous, pornographic lies told against them. 

Something is seriously wrong here. As a society we need to do much better. 

“I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality,” Dr. King said. “I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.”  Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. 1967

The bold vision articulated passionately by Martin Luther King, Jr. more than 50 years ago remains even more inspiring and powerful today. While most reasonable people now share Dr. King’s beliefs (as was not the case five decades ago), far too many people—including young people—still espouse points of view that are diametrically opposed to his conviction that only love can drive out hate. 

As individuals and as a society, we have a sacred obligation to witness to the truth that “there is no Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female; we are all one in Jesus Christ” (Galatians 3:28). What’s more, we are all equal in human dignity and civil rights. Anyone who disputes this truth, or acts contrary to its fundamental principles, is a racist and a fool.