I’m not very good at saying ”no” to myself. If I want something badly enough, chances are I’ll find a way to do it, get it or buy it. 

According to Father Michael Casey, O.C.S, in his powerful book, Living in the Truth: Saint Benedict’s Teaching on Humility, “Our saying ‘yes’ to Christ is conditional upon our saying ‘no’ to ourselves. If self-will is our first priority, we can never be followers of Christ.”

This insight is fundamental to Christian discipleship. Jesus’ obedience to his Father’s will is what we are called to imitate—not in a slavish or perfunctory way but because our hearts are full of love.  “Not my will but thine be done” is the prayer of Jesus during his agony in the garden. It is a decisive moment in the passion narrative because in this act of saying “no” to himself and “yes” to the Father’s will, Jesus sets in motion all of the events that surround his death and lead to his resurrection. 

In my new book, The Benedictine Way, I address this aspect of Christian discipleship from my own experience:

It’s clear to me that my formation as a man and as a Christian began in earnest when I stopped trying to do things my way. My will was not a reliable guide in any aspect of my life. Only when I opened my mind and heart to God’s will as it was revealed to me through the teaching and example of faculty, spiritual directors and administrators at Saint Meinrad did I find my way.

Over the years, this truth has been reaffirmed many times. My way is a dead end.  The Benedictine Way, which includes the full teaching and practice of the Catholic Church, is the way to life. But I must listen attentively to others—especially “veteran members” of the Church community or I too easily slip back into my former ways of doing things.

 I need to keep at it—saying “no” to myself in big things and little things.  One day at a time. 

Is this just the tip of the iceberg? More allegations of sexual misconduct against powerful men emerge every day. 

Ten days ago, on November 19, I posted the comments below. 

Aren’t you tired of reading about the outrageous sexual behavior of powerful men?  

I am. As a man, a husband, father and grandfather, I am deeply disturbed by the seemingly endless revelations of totally unacceptable actions (and talk) by men in high places in our society.  

What’s going on here? I’m afraid it’s evidence of serious moral decay. Men who can’t control their impulses are not men. They’re boys whose emotional growth is stunted and whose character is deeply flawed. No mature man forces himself on a woman, another man or a child! No man who has reached physical, emotional or mental maturity allows his aggressive sexual urges to dominate his behavior toward others. 

These are men with serious problems. They need help. They do not belong in positions of authority or power over others.  

In recent years we’ve seen that sexual predators can be found where we least expect them to be—occupying positions of trust and confidence in the Church, in government, in the entertainment industry, in business and in fact anywhere there are opportunities to exercise power and influence over others. 

It’s tempting to blame the so-called sexual revolution of the 1960s for this outbreak of sexual abusiveness, but those of us who grew up in the 1950s experienced its powerful behind-the-scenes effects. Sexual abuse is out in the open now, and that’s a good thing, but it doesn’t make it easier to stomach.  

We need to rethink our understanding of the meaning and purpose of human sexuality. And many of us—especially rich and powerful men—-need to change the way we express ourselves sexually. 

In June 2002, when faced (finally) with the awful truth of clergy sexual abuse and the failure of Church leaders at all levels to deal with it appropriately, the bishops of the United States developed a charter with a zero tolerance policy. No clergyman or church employee who is credibly accused, and subsequently found guilty, of abusive sexual behavior may remain in Church ministry. No exceptions. No excuses. 

I think it’s time for leaders in all other sectors to do the same. It is no longer acceptable—if it ever was—for powerful predators to simply apologize for bad acts and then go about their business as usual in government, business, the news and entertainment industry, social service, education or religion. We must hold our leaders to a higher standard, and they must be held accountable for their actions. 

Once again, we need to rethink our understanding of the meaning and purpose of human sexuality. And many of us—especially rich and powerful men—-either need to change the way we express ourselves sexually or face the serious consequences of an across-the-board “zero tolerance policy.”

Available now at Amazon.com—my new book, The Benedictine Way. 

In this book of reflections about Benedictine spirituality, author I share with readers my reflections on the joy and peace that I have found in and through 50 years of association with women and men who follow the “Benedictine Way.”  

In spite of what some would say, the Benedictine way is not primarily about the fuga mundi (withdrawal or “flight from the world”). It is, instead, a way of “being in the world but not of it,” a manner of engagement that allows Christians to enjoy all the good things God has made without turning them into false idols that distort our values and consume us in the process.

 Archabbot Kurt Stasiak of Saint Meinrad summarizes Benedictine monasticism as “seeking God
in community” which presumes a commitment to being guided by others and helping others find God. Prayer and fidelity to the common life are the principal ways that followers of St. Benedict seek God in community over the course of a whole lifetime. Archabbot Kurt goes on to say that “mutual obedience to the Rule, the abbot and to each other is the way to God” for monks and for all who strive to live according to the teaching of St. Benedict.

Once it is understood and lived authentically, the Benedictine Way is truly a way of peace and joy. That never happens overnight. It takes time to absorb the principles and practices of Benedictine spirituality and to integrate them into our minds and hearts.  This is true for vowed monks whose whole lives are dedicated to living the Rule of Benedict in a particular place and time. It’s also true for ordinary people who are not called to be monks but who are seeking ways to live the Gospel that can help them cope with the madness of everyday living “in the world.”

Pope Francis makes me uncomfortable. With all his talk of God’s love and mercy, with all his emphasis on peace and joy, this pope makes me feel embarrassed and guilty. 

He accuses me (rightly) of the sin of indifference. He chastises me for neglecting the sacrament of penance, and he challenges me to get off my couch and go to the peripheries to become involved with the poor and the sick, the homeless and the imprisoned. 

Why can’t I simply be content living a good life? Why can’t I simply keep the commandments and follow the path of least resistance? The world is a dangerous place. Why not stay in my comfort zone where there is peace and quiet and security?

The words and symbolic gestures of Pope Francis are unsettling. They prick my conscience and interfere with my self-satisfied life. I’d rather not go there, thank you. Things are fine just the way they are. 

But, of course, there’s the Gospel for today (Matthew 25:31-46). “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, I’ll and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.”

When did I do these things? More importantly, when did I fail to do these things?

Pope Francis invites me to surrender and let the words and example of Jesus guide me on the way to joy. The words and actions of Pope Francis, like the words and example of Jesus, make me uncomfortable. 

Help me, Lord. I’m not good at this. 

              D. Gill Ring 5/9/36–2/10/16   Photo by Mike Harp

What makes a great teacher? Witnessing to the truth. 

During my days as a student, I was blessed with many excellent teachers. In elementary school and high school, my favorite teachers taught English, religion and history. In college and graduate school, my best teachers taught English, philosophy and theology. Their influence on my life and work was powerful. Whatever gifts I now possess as a writer and consultant, while certainly God-given, were shaped and formed by the women and men who taught me everything I know and everything I believe. 

The best teacher I ever had was Gill Ring. I only had him in class for two semesters my senior year at Saint Meinrad. (He taught philosophy there for more than 45 years). But he continued to teach me outside the classroom in conversations that covered every subject imaginable, and in the process we became lifelong friends.

Why was Gill a great teacher? He was able to share with his students (with me) his own struggles—to understand, to accept, to believe. He was transparent in his search for truth, and he absolutely refused to accept false or shallow substitutes. 

To some, he appeared arrogant or rigid in his thinking. Others feared his powerful intellect which could easily intimidate the faint of heart. But he was like all truly great thinkers—driven by an insatiable desire to discover the truth of things. 

In fact, he was one of the kindest men I’ve ever known. He would stop whatever he was doing to help someone in need, especially someone (like me) struggling with inner demons, doubts or fears. 

We were friends for 45 years, and during this time he never stopped teaching me—sometimes with his words and stories but always by his example. His love for his wife, Gail, his conversion to the Catholic Church, and his determination to help students become authentic, critical thinkers inspired me and many others to listen carefully and then decide for ourselves. 

His final lesson came at the end of his life when because of a stroke he couldn’t say what was on his mind. It must have been pure hell for a man like Gill (a professional talker) to be tongue-tied, to be prevented from articulating his deepest thoughts and most basic desires. But he continued teaching—in the classroom as long as possible and in his daily life until the day his heart gave out and he died. 

Gill Ring was a great teacher. His entire life was a witness to the search for truth—in his marriage and family life, in his philosophy classes, in his friendships and, ultimately, in the way he let go of his considerable ego and surrendered to the mysterious will of God. 

There came a time in my young life when I said to myself in all seriousness: When I grow up, I want to be a man like Gill Ring. That’s still true today. 

Gratitude is contagious. Spread it freely!

At the very top of my “gratitude list” is my wife of almost 39 years, Sharon Ann (Hudec) Conway.

I could write a book (and maybe I will some day) about my love and appreciation for my beautiful, intelligent, talented and loving wife, Sharon, but for now here’s just one excerpt from this “gratitude story.”

Many years ago, when our children were little, I was given the task of getting the kids ready and the car packed for our annual Christmas trip to Cleveland while Sharon, a nurse, worked a half-day. Once Mom was home, we all jumped in the minivan and headed north. About half way there (definitely past the point of no return), Sharon asked me if I’d remembered to pack the Christmas presents that she and the kids planned to give Grandma and their aunts, uncles and cousins.

“What presents?” I said, knowing instantly that I had screwed-up big time.

Sharon and the kids were devastated. All their carefully wrapped presents were still at home where I left them. And there was no turning back.

After a few minutes of very uncharacteristic silence in the car, Sharon called her mother to say that we were well on our way and would arrive soon. “Unfortunately, we have a problem,” she said. We left all the Christmas presents at home, so we won’t be able to participate in the gift exchange. We’ll have to mail everyone’s presents when we get back.”

I was horrified, embarrassed and feeling more than a little foolish. But Sharon’s words to her mother struck me. She said, “We left the Christmas presents at home.” Not “Dan left the Christmas presents at home.”

It hit me then as never before. She believes that we are “one flesh” for better or worse, in good times and in careless, insensitive times like this.

Thank you, Sharon, for all the love and support you give me—and for putting up with me for nearly four decades. I love you.

Family is what Thanksgiving is all about. 

I’m thankful for my deceased parents and grandparents and all the aunts, uncles, cousins and friends who are no longer with us.

I’m thankful for my wife (Sharon) my children (Suzanne, Catherine, Margaret, Mary and Danny), my granddaughter (Jocelyn), all my in-laws (the Hudec family), my many aunts, uncles and cousins, and all my friends and colleagues. So many people, so many gifts to be thankful for.

Thanks be to God for blessings that far outweigh my troubles.