For some parents, though, those challenges can be even more than the typical everyday struggles of raising a child. Many parents these days are also raising kids with developmental disabilities. According to estimates from the Centers for Disease Control’s Autism and Developmental Disabilities Monitoring Network, about one in 44 children has been identified with autism spectrum disorder. That means that, chances are, you know a family living out this reality. 

That is certainly the case for author Matthew Chicoine, who talks about the challenges and blessings of raising two sons with disabilities in the article “Parenting Kids with Autism.” Chicoine says his faith is a comfort for himself and provides a connection with his sons. 

But don’t worry, we haven’t forgotten about mothers. In the article “Hail Mary, Full of Grace,” author Colleen C. Mitchell reflects on Mother Mary’s acceptance of God’s plan of salvation for the world and what that means for our own spiritual calling. 

This month, we lift up all those parents—moms and dads—who are doing their best to raise their children, despite all the hurdles they face. 

This father shares how the journey of supporting his two sons
with special needs has enriched and informed his faith.

According to C.S. Lewis, “Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see.” Recently, my faith has been lacking so I was missing the miniature and miraculous letters forming a story before my own eyes. 

While it’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment I took my faith seriously, an important factor is my vocation as a father. I have four children: two sons and two daughters. Both of my sons are diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder (ASD). Because of this, the subjects of autism acceptance and neurodivergent awareness are dear to my heart. 

Autism Is Lifelong

ASD is not a temporary phase a child or adult goes through in life. It is also not a disease to eradicate or cure. It’s a lifelong condition, and that’s OK. It is my job as a father to teach my autistic sons the skills necessary for a happy and healthy life. 

ASD refers to a range of conditions characterized by challenges with social skills, repetitive behaviors, speech, and nonverbal communication, as well as by unique strengths and differences. In 2021, approximately one in 44 children in the United States was diagnosed with ASD (AutismSpeaks.org). As science progresses, our awareness of autism continues to develop and shows that the disorder contains as much variance as color wavelengths in the rainbow. 

Early diagnosis was key in getting my boys the best and most appropriate services to help them learn and grow. According to Autism Parenting Magazine, most children are diagnosed after age 4. My older son, Noah, was 4 years old when we had him evaluated for ASD; my younger son, Josiah, was 18 months old. 

Finding Direction

Before we had an autism diagnosis for Noah, we had a lot of frustrations about his behavior. It took a few years for my wife, Jennifer, and me to figure out the situations and things that triggered his meltdowns. We often felt inadequate and unprepared to calm him down. 

During our journey toward a diagnosis, Jennifer and I had our son evaluated because he exhibited obsessive-compulsive disorder tendencies, social and communication difficulties, and various obsessions (such as dinosaurs, cars, and superheroes). 

As a new parent, I got lots of parenting advice from “experts.” My son did not sleep through the night for the first time until he was 3 years old. I felt like I was being told, “You do not know what you’re doing.” I doubted my ability to parent. After he was diagnosed, a weight was lifted. We understood why some things were so much more challenging and we were given options to help him. I may not have been an expert, nor am I today, but at least my family has more direction to help our boys. 

In the case of Josiah, Jennifer and I already had some idea of clues and behaviors in terms of whether or not we should get him diagnosed. We noticed that he wasn’t talking or interacting, and he would reach sensory overload in different situations. He wasn’t able to communicate his needs and got frustrated quickly. 

While Josiah has made incredible growth and meltdowns have been limited drastically, he still struggles when his daily routine is disrupted with little or no warning. Something as small as a change in the order of classes or a swing not being available on the playground can cause him frustration. These small changes are important to him. The autistic mind thinks logically, and everything must have a place and order; skipping a step at the beginning or middle throws the lesson or activity off-kilter. 

In a fast-paced world, I am constantly challenged to slow down to listen to my boys’ needs, wants, and desires. Communicating potential changes to our daily and weekly schedule is a must in order to help ease anxiety. We have learned that visual schedules are amazing and help all of our children to know what to expect. 

Building Faithful Habits

One of the most interesting things I have learned while raising my children is the strength of their habits. It is almost ritualistic how my sons play. When my son Josiah was little, he would line up all his toy cars and look at the wheels. He played with the same toys for months. At the park he would often get caught in a loop where he would take the same exact path in climbing up the stairs and using the slide. If he got sidetracked out of his loop, he would be lost until we got him back on the path. 

I have to be cognizant of giving directions in a precise, logical, step-by-step manner when getting him to complete daily tasks like going on errands, bedtime, and dinner. My sons’ need for order and consistency is crucial to help them feel grounded, and that has helped me forge newer and better habits. 

First of all, I learned how to communicate in a simpler and more direct manner. I discovered how to think in a different perspective. This “breakdown and rebuild” of my communication style helped most on Sundays. I took for granted common things about the Mass, so I started to pay more attention to the sounds, smells, and artwork. Loud and unexpected sounds can jostle any child’s attention, but they can disrupt an autistic child for much longer. Josiah didn’t know what to expect when it came to Mass, and it was even tougher if we had to attend at a different time or parish. 

Consistent expectations helped my children get less anxious about attending Mass or new events. Printing out a visual Mass schedule with all the parts of the liturgy pictured helped ease tensions and worries on Sunday. I could see the weight of anxiety lift and be replaced with excitement. 

In the first three weeks of using the visual schedule, my family attended Mass at a different location. Change is normally hard for Josiah, but the schedule helped remind and teach him what to expect during the liturgy. Knowing the amount and order of the steps of Mass gave him a better way to think about and focus on the liturgy. 

Another tool I used to help Josiah concentrate during Mass was a weighted vest. The vest includes six beanbags that fit inside to provide deep pressure stimulation, which reduced my younger son’s anxiety drastically, allowing him to focus better. The tight squeeze of the vest also reminds me of God’s closeness to me and helps me reflect on his mercy. 

This way of thinking has helped lead me to better recognize God’s plan of salvation in the Bible. I’ve been listening to Father Mike Schmitz’s Bible in a Year podcast, and he shows how God provides a plan and prepares his people—step-by-step. It’s revealed over time, and raising my boys has shown me how God’s love is patient and persistent over time. 

The Joy of Autism

Along with forcing me to improve my communication and teaching abilities, parenting autistic children has led to several joys. 

One of the joys of the autistic mind is having an amazing memory. Noah remembers things he did as a 1- and 2-year-old. He is a walking encyclopedia. He can rattle off facts on many topics: animals, dinosaurs, and ninjas, to name a few! Josiah also has an incredible memory; he often points out things I forgot. 

My kids feel deeply, and their joy is infectious; some days, I love to watch them freely playing. My kids enjoy helping our 6-year-old make car washes out of cardboard. Everyone’s goal in life should be to find someone who looks at you the way Josiah looks at the spinning brush at the car wash. It’s beautiful. 

It may seem counterintuitive, but the struggles Josiah faced while we were teaching him to talk are more of a joy as time passes. Because autism is a spectrum, not every autistic child exhibits language development in the same way. He didn’t speak until he was over 2 years old with amazing support from our local early intervention. If Jennifer and I didn’t get the support we needed as early as we did, it’s possible Josiah still wouldn’t be able to express his needs. 

I recently took the kids to the library, and I was helping my oldest child find a book when I heard Josiah ask the librarian for help in finding Bob Books. While this appears to be a simple and ordinary event, communicating his needs and wants has been a consistent goal for him. God took an ordinary milestone and used my son’s journey to infuse joy into my day. 

Additionally, my sons are detail-oriented and quick to remind me whenever something seems out of place with our daily routine or activity. Some days their frequent corrections bog me down. Yet overall, this ability to recognize inconsistencies in both life events and logic will serve the boys well in the future. 

The struggles I face as a dad sometimes feel like a burden, but when I look to the joy in my sons’ milestones, the weight is lifted. It’s like allowing Jesus to ease your cross by letting him help you along the way. 

Faith Stabilized Me

Raising neurodivergent kids has forced me to rely on God and others more. Until Jennifer and I learned more about our sons’ diagnoses, we learned by trial and error what caused meltdowns or triggered outbursts. This was difficult at times, but in hindsight I realize God gave me the gift of faith to continue to seek him out. 

Preparing meals is a daily thing for everyone, but in my family’s situation it can be difficult due to the various aversions my sons have to different textures and certain flavors in food. Something simple like eating hamburgers or turkey is a process. Through feeding therapy, we have been able to expand the list of foods that work well at mealtimes. 

Other daily challenges my sons face include putting on socks, wearing certain shirts with tags, and the switching of pants or shorts for the season. Imagine trying to socialize or pay attention at school while you feel the tag on your shirt scratching you, the sharp seam of your socks digging into your toes, and the sensation of long pants itching your legs after finally getting used to shorts. We found that a “brushing protocol” was helpful to lessen the sensory input for these situations.

_{Matt Chicoine and his wife, Jennifer, are pictured with their four children (from left to right): Josiah, Amelia, Avila, and Noah. Matt says the experience of raising two children with autism is an example of how “God’s love is patient and persistant.”}

During the first part of the COVID-19 pandemic, Jennifer and I had to buy several different types of face masks because many brands bothered Noah. Even though he knew the importance of masking to limit the spread of the novel virus, the sensory input was too much for him at first. 

Continuing to rely on my Catholic faith helped get me through the toughest days. I doubted my ability to parent during the early parts of my sons’ autism diagnoses, yet Sunday Mass acted as a recharge for me. Daily prayer and reading about the lives of the saints helped me too. 

Living the Works of Mercy

According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, “The works of mercy are charitable actions by which we come to the aid of our neighbor in his spiritual and bodily necessities” (2447). Sometimes I forget the “neighbor” in need is my children. 

God provides graces through the sacrament of marriage to help me love him and my family. The corporal works of mercy may look a bit different for each family, but in my situation it involves working nights so my son can attend outpatient therapy to help him learn to regulate and communicate. And it takes the form of engaging Noah in his latest obsession: Pokémon, dinosaurs, Legos, etc. Or it even means hugging them extra tight after a stressful day at school. 

Regarding the spiritual life, I have learned to teach my kids in a different way and to be patient. Modeling the faith and taking things in small steps is what works in our family. When I am intentional and show love in a tangible way, my kids are much more receptive to learning about the faith. Praying an entire rosary will always be a long-term goal for my family; realistically we can only handle a decade at a time. Small moments have big impact, and I have learned that my kids will get more out of these small moments. 

Living the Gospel

Before I had children, I viewed the Gospel in more of a legalistic and rules-based manner. If you followed the Ten Commandments and all the precepts of the Church, you would go to heaven. And while that view isn’t technically wrong, it fails to see the faith in its fullness: relationship with God. 

Parenting my children has forced me out of my comfort zone. My vocation as a dad pushed me into the messiness of real life. I also learned more about practical applications of the corporal works of mercy. 

I often reflect on Matthew 25:31–46, where Jesus describes to his followers how caring for one’s neighbor is caring for Christ himself. Sometimes I take my vocation for granted. Sometimes I think I need to serve God in extraordinary affairs like the great missionaries or evangelists in Church history. But every time I tend to my kids’ needs, I’m caring for Christ.  

“Don’t quit,” a Vatican official once told Phyllis Zagano. She took his advice and continues to advocate for ordaining women as deacons in the Catholic Church. 

Phyllis Zagano, PhD, perhaps the world’s leading advocate for ordaining women as deacons in the Catholic Church, experienced an epiphany back in 1978. 

At the time, she was attending Immaculate Conception Seminary in Huntington, New York, intent on training for ministry and was the only female student in the graduate-level seminary theology program. 

Archbishop Jean Jadot, then-apostolic delegate, the pope’s representative in the United States, came for a visit. It was a VIP occasion. Zagano’s fellow students, seminarians studying for the priesthood, were decked out in the house cassock and sash vestments. She wore a yellow corduroy pantsuit and placed herself unobtrusively in the nosebleed seats. 

The hosting bishop, the late John McGann of the Diocese of Rockville Centre, New York, noticed her. 

“Phyllis, what are you doing here?” asked Bishop McGann, known for his friendly and garrulous banter at public events. Bishop McGann recognized Zagano, as he was a high school basketball pal of her father. 

After the ceremonies, Zagano got word that Archbishop Jadot, then a dominant figure in the Church in the United States, one seen as the power behind bishop appointments, wanted to see her. 

He asked her what she was doing in the seminary, and she replied that she was studying with a goal of being ordained a deacon. “Don’t quit,” Archbishop Jadot told her. She hasn’t. 

Zagano moved on from the seminary in pursuit of other academic achievements, but she hasn’t quit the cause of ordaining women as deacons. The author of scores of articles and five books on the subject, she has remained in the Catholic fold, intently lobbying bishops, priests, deacons, and whoever will listen. She argues that Church tradition allows for ordaining women as deacons. 

Even after Pope John Paul II definitively ruled out ordaining women as priests in 1994, Zagano remained undaunted. 

Phoebe’s Example

Zagano has made the case that the diaconate is different. The historical legacy indicates that the Church can ordain women as deacons. It is a matter of the Church’s willingness to recapture tradition, not break from it, she argues. 

“The diaconate is very clear in Scripture,” she says. The only person with the job title is Phoebe. No one else in Scripture is called deacon. In Romans 16:1–2, Paul commends Phoebe’s diaconal ministry.  

For Zagano, the short scriptural reference offers a vein of insight. “Her patronage, one can assume, supported the efforts of the growing Church. With her status affirmed, she is the one not only chosen to carry Paul’s letter to Rome, but also most probably to read and interpret it once she gets to meet with the community there,” Zagano wrote in the Tablet in 2021. 

Phoebe’s example lived on in the early Church up to the 12th century. Scripture scholar Gary Macy argues that female deacons gradually became verboten as the Church began interpreting Old Testament purity laws regarding menstruation as forbidding women to lead religious rituals. The entire order of deacons also eroded—largely due to authority and money issues with priests, Zagano says—until it was revived after Vatican II. 

While women deacons no longer are active, it’s there in the history, she says. The acknowledgement that women once filled that role has been a linchpin for those arguing that the Church can ordain them as deacons once again, particularly in response to pressing pastoral needs. 

Once on the margins, Zagano’s vision may be closer to fruition than ever. Pope Francis has ruled out ordaining women as priests but has said that the diaconate is another question. Zagano served on a Vatican commission to study the issue, spending months researching ancient Church manuscripts, buttressing her arguments. She also talked with bishops and clergy from all over who were eager to describe their need for pastoral ministers. 

That commission dissolved without deciding on the central issue. But a second group has been formed and is expected to make a recommendation to the pope. The timetable remains unclear, but many interested in the topic believe that the can won’t be kicked down the road for too much longer. 

A Chorus of Voices

At 75, Zagano, a research associate and adjunct professor of religion at Hofstra University on Long Island, remains hopeful. She would like to avoid the fate of Moses, who only lived to see the Promised Land from a distance.  

Casey Stanton, 36, is codirector of Discerning Deacons, a group comprised of women who believe they are called to serve as Catholic deacons. Launched in 2021, Discerning Deacons observes the September 3 Phoebe feast day and has surveyed women working in ministry about their sentiments on being ordained as deacons. 

Stanton, who served in parish ministry at Immaculate Conception Church in Durham, North Carolina, and worked for a decade as a parish organizer for the US Conference of Catholic Bishops’ Campaign for Human Development, is a graduate student at Duke Divinity School. She describes herself as part of a generation of Catholic women who, as girls, were altar servers and grew up in a world where women in leadership roles are a given. 

Women will continue to minister in the Church no matter what, says Stanton, but ordination would serve as a powerful symbol, both for those who would be ordained and for those they serve. 

_{Phyllis Zagano, PhD, a research associate and adjunct professor of religion at Hofstra University on Long Island, has been a leading voice in favor of women deacons for decades. She is hopeful her efforts will bear fruit under Pope Francis.}

A study by Discerning Deacons written by Tricia C. Bruce, a University of Notre Dame sociologist, found strong interest in ordination among women in ministry. While some respondents indicated that they would prefer to remain as laypeople, a majority said they were interested in becoming deacons or at least wanted it to be an option. 

Ordination, the study concluded, would provide legitimacy to women who often work on the margins of Church life. Such women, noted the study, cope with “how the lack of title, recognition, and authority conferred through ordination results in ambiguity.” 

Ordination as deacons would allow for women to routinely perform baptisms, witness weddings, and, perhaps of greatest significance, preach at Sunday Mass, granting their ministry a recognition for Catholics in the pews. The pope’s call to hear from everyone as part of the Synod on Synodality is an opportunity, says Stanton. Advocates of ordaining women deacons are presenting their case in pre-synod dialogues across the country and the world. 

Opposition Remains

As the possibility of women being ordained as deacons seems tantalizingly close to many of its advocates, there remains opposition. Some women who have pursued ordination to the priesthood see the diaconate as a token gesture. Others argue that the logic behind forbidding women’s ordination to the priesthood applies to the diaconate as well. 

Missionary Servant of the Most Blessed Trinity Sister Sara Butler, who taught in seminaries in New York and Chicago, says that the decision on ordaining women as deacons will be made relatively soon. But, she says, “I can’t imagine it will be yes.” Sister Sara was among the first two women named by Pope John Paul II to the Vatican’s top theology group. 

While women served as deacons in the ancient Church, says Sister Sara, the prayers for the ordinations were different between men and women. She questions whether they were selected for the same office. The role of women as deacons, Sister Sara says, was to provide ministries for which men were culturally ill-suited. For example, she says, women served the sacramental needs of female monastic communities and assisted widows. 

While ordination advocates point to the substantial record of women in ministry, Sister Sara points to the same phenomenon and asks if ordination would change that reality. 

“There’s nothing in particular that will be added,” she says about ordaining women already serving in ministry to the diaconate. The same basic tasks—teaching, ministering to the poor and the sick, organizing church activities—will be carried out regardless of ordination status. 

“Holy orders is a single sacrament,” says Sister Sara. And, in a point rejected by many feminist theologians, she argues that “sexual complementarity has sacramental significance in Catholic theology”—namely that mirroring Christ sacramentally is a male function; therefore, the clerical state should be reserved for men. 

A Deacon’s Perspective

Deacon Greg Kandra, who ministers in the Diocese of Brooklyn, New York, is in regular communication with deacons on TheDeaconsBench.com—a website of commentary on Catholic issues—and as a speaker on pastoral life. 

Deacon Kandra supports ordaining women as deacons. “It would be a tremendous gift to the Church,” he says. “There are a lot of women today who are serving the Church who are not ordained. They have a lot to give.” 

Their impact would be felt. “You will see women at the altar vested. You will see women preaching at Mass. It would move women into pastoral leadership roles, not just behind the scenes,” Deacon Kandra says. 

First, however, he would like to see a greater understanding and acceptance of the role of deacons in the broader Church. “My concern is that the Church needs to get the diaconate right before it brings women into the ministry,” he says. 

After Vatican II, the diaconate experienced a renewal. Of the nearly 50,000 deacons in the world, around half are in the United States, a result of the openness to the restored order by American bishops in the 1970s and 1980s. 

Still, its acceptance is spotty, even though in many parishes Catholics are familiar with the deacon’s role of preaching, witnessing weddings, performing baptisms, and ministering to the poor. Like priests, deacons in the United States are declining in number and are, on average, older than the rest of the adult Catholic population. 

Vatican II, says Deacon Kandra, “left it up to the local bishops and pastors to see how this would work out.” The results have been uneven: Some dioceses offer ongoing formation programs and continue to ordain men. Others don’t. Among the laity, more education about the role of deacons is needed, says Deacon Kandra. Confusion about roles remains. Offering a case in point, he relates how, after a Sunday homily, he was pulled aside by a parishioner who congratulated him on celebrating a superb Mass and referred to the deacon as “monsignor.” 

Deacon William Ditewig, former director of the US Conference of Catholic Bishops’ office on the diaconate, supports women’s ordination to the diaconate and coauthored a book on the subject with Zagano. 

Like Deacon Kandra, he sees a need to clarify the role of the deacon. Throughout Church history, ordination to the diaconate has been viewed as closely linked to ordination to the priesthood. For centuries, the diaconate has been seen as a stepping stone to the priesthood, a period of mentorship. Today men preparing for ordination to the priesthood are first ordained as “transitional” deacons. This gives them faculties to proclaim the Gospel and to preach at Mass for a year before ordination to the priesthood. 

The tradition of ordaining men seeking priesthood as “transitional” deacons—the apprenticeship model—has contributed to confusion about the role of deacons, Deacon Ditewig said. “The deacon is a vocation in and of itself” and not simply a way station to the priesthood, he says.  

In addition, the issue of women’s ordination as deacons becomes tied into the priesthood, with the Church’s clear prohibition of ordaining women priests mixed into the debate over the diaconate. Both Deacon Ditewig and Zagano insist that the diaconate is a separate vocation. 

Pope Francis, as is his inclination, is willing to let the discussion play out publicly. He has expressed appreciation for the ministry of women in the Church, and the recent flurry of activity around the issue is frequently tied to a meeting he held with religious sisters who inquired about the diaconate. 

Whatever the arguments, pastoral needs, such as those expressed at the 2019 Vatican Synod on the Amazon—which focused on a region where many Catholics are ministered to by few clerics—should be the overriding concern, Deacon Ditewig says. 

“History gives us lessons, but ultimately it becomes a partial lesson,” he says. The fundamental question is: Who does the Church need now? 

Sidebar: Deacons or Deaconesses?

In the world of scholars and activists debating the issue of whether women can be ordained as deacons in the Catholic Church, certain recurring arguments abound. One flash point is language. 

Would women ordained as deacons be referred to simply as deacons or as deaconesses? For Phyllis Zagano, who emphasizes that the diaconate is distinct from the ordained priesthood, the answer is deacon, because that is the title granted to Phoebe in Romans 16:1–3. 

The diaconate as a vocation was part of early Christian communities, she says. The addition of the transitional diaconate as a training ground for future priests is an addendum of later Church history. “(As) the Church teaches that women cannot be ordained as priest or bishops, it also teaches there is a distinct order of the diaconate,” she writes in Women Deacons: Past, Present, and Future (Paulist Press, 2011). 

However, Sister Sara Butler opts for using the word deaconesses. She argues that the Catholic Church has long held a unitary approach to ordination, a role for deacons who can move on to the ordained priesthood. She also points out that the position that women held in the early Church differed from that of men who were ordained as deacons. 

The revived diaconate is only 50 years    old, and its growth has taken place amid an upsurge in women in pastoral roles. According to a study conducted by the National Pastoral Life Center, lay ecclesial ministers working in parishes outnumber active diocesan priests. 

That study estimated that 80 percent of lay ecclesial ministers were women. Whether that work should be recognized by ordination, or remain as a lay ministry, continues to be at the crux of the discussions around the possibility of ordaining women as deacons. 

We can do better, and as members of a diverse Catholic Church in the United States, we owe it to our brothers and sisters from other cultures to be better informed about their people’s histories and customs. Doing so brings us closer together as a faith community and opens us up to a deeper experience of this holiday in place of a cheapened, consumeristic version of it. Before

Firing up a grill for carne asada and elote (a delicious Mexican spin on grilled corn), a bit of background on Cinco de Mayo is in order.

A Battle and a Cultural Movement

“Happy Cinco de Mayo!” many will proclaim when the calendar reads “May 5.” But what are we celebrating, exactly? Often, revelers assume that it’s Independence Day in Mexico. That happens on September 16. Indeed, even in Mexico, Cinco de Mayo doesn’t make the list of official national holidays, and most workers and students across the country don’t get the day off. There, it is commemorated more as a historic event, much as June 6 is remembered as the date of the D-Day invasion.

The long and complex history of Cinco de Mayo involves the French invasion of Mexico, ordered by Napoleon III in the 1860s. An Austrian archduke (Maximilian I) was installed as emperor, and a short-lived monarchy followed. During the struggle to prevent the French takeover, a battle took place on May 5, 1862, in the city of Puebla. The outnumbered Mexican forces decisively defeated the French invaders, but it wasn’t enough to stop the monarchy from being established.

Mexican miners far north in California heard the news and began an annual celebration. Over time, Cinco de Mayo intersected with the struggle for farmworkers’ rights. Civil rights leaders such as Cesar Chavez understood that Cinco de Mayo represents a form of agency and pride for Mexican Americans, many of whom were poorly treated by the larger Anglo culture.

Joyfully ‘Transcending Borders’

As Mexican Americans continued to celebrate Cinco de Mayo as a point of cultural pride and connection to their ancestral homeland, Anglo American culture—and advertisers—took note. The result: White Americans wearing oversized sombreros and fake mustaches while drinking $5 blue-raspberry frozen margaritas. It’s not only a misunderstanding of basic history; it’s racist behavior and a form of cultural appropriation.

If we consider that 72 percent of the Mexican population identifies as Catholic, as well as 61 percent of Mexican Americans, we must see this behavior as harmful to our brothers and sisters in faith. Shifting borderlines over time and allegiances to one nation or another pale in comparison to the borderless, inclusive kingdom of God. “A love capable of transcending borders is the basis of what in every city and country can be called ‘social friendship,’” writes Pope Francis in “Fratelli Tutti,” his encyclical from 2020. “Genuine social friendship within a society makes true universal openness possible.”

Many Mexicans and Mexican Americans would also be quick to remind us that this is a day to revel in, and all are invited. Even the sugary $5 margaritas might get a pass if we celebrate Cinco de Mayo with an eye to its past, both here and in Mexico. And while we enjoy the festivities, may we do so with our fellow brothers and sisters in faith, no matter where they’re from.

Soon she would put our baby to bed, maybe nurse him to sleep, then probably pump. Next she would prepare the bottles and make our son’s food for the next day. Maybe we would sit on the couch for 30 minutes to watch a show, but soon our son would be waking again. (Why even bother paying for streaming services?) 

In a year, our son, Indy, has only slept more than four hours straight a handful of times. When he wakes, he usually doesn’t want me; he wants his momma. My wife, night after night, stumbles through the dark hallway into his bedroom to sleep next to our son with their mattresses on the floor. It’s the only thing that calms him down. Before long, it’s 5:30 and my wife is getting up to teach at an elementary school. 

One day she returned early from work, so I offered, “How about you get away and do something for yourself?” 

Her response: “Thanks, but this is my only time to play with Indy.” 

La La is always thinking about being a mother. Her downtime is spent messaging pediatricians, researching Indy’s sleeping problems, or, most recently, planning his first birthday—a baseball-themed party that I sought to infiltrate with Chicago Cubs decorations. 

“He won’t even remember his first birthday,” I protested one day, questioning the elaborateness of the party we were planning. The day before I had proofread a “Rookie of the Year” baseball card she made for him: Height: 30 inches. Weight: 21 pounds. Teeth: four. Bench Press: 6-ounce bottles. 

“Yeah, but we will,” she said. “And don’t you want him to see pictures of his party when he’s older and be reminded of how loved he is?” 

Prayer in Action

What does all this have to do with prayer? Lately I’ve been intrigued with a philosophy that is outlined in the Bhagavad Gita called karma yoga, which a translator of the Gita describes as “nothing but performance of one’s duties without any desire for specific results, but rather as a sacrificial offering.” Those words, “sacrificial offering,” struck me as a kind of prayer in action, one that is epitomized by loving mothers, superhero women, and those who embody the sacred feminine. 

As Richard Rohr writes, the “feminine principle” is that which is “vulnerable, interior, powerless, subtle, personal, intimate, and relational,” whereas the masculine principle is “clear, rational, linear, ordered, in control, bounded, provable, and hard.” He concludes, “Both the feminine and masculine are good, but they must balance each other.” 

Giving All, Letting Go

I’ve begun teaching this philosophy to the golfers I coach as they play a game that requires full presence, commitment, trust, calm, and then acceptance (and letting go) of the results. I’m trying to apply it to my own creative life as well. My publisher recently sent my new book off to be printed. I’m good at leaving it all out there creatively; I spent seven years working on the project. I’m not so good about detaching myself from the results. 

As my wife gave birth to our son, I witnessed someone who had to be fully present—with each contraction, breath, push—and then almost immediately let go of results. This sets the tone for motherhood, one of giving your all, then letting go. 

When my mom was alive, she told me her saddest day of mothering entailed picking me up from school the day after I was cut from the golf team in seventh grade. She had seen me work hard all summer long, but now she was dropping me off at the course to play alone while the other seventh graders practiced with the team. She did not argue with the coach, and she did not tell me to focus on making the team next year. In that van ride years ago, my mom sat with me in distraught rejection. She held me. She carried me. 

From the womb to her loving arms to those silent van rides, where I was comforted by knowing I was not alone, my mother had surrendered me to the world. A decade and a half later, she told me she cried all the way home. 

On the eve of our son’s birthday, La La told me she was sad. A year before, he was still in the safety of her womb. Now he was walking around, finding a way to hit his head anytime we took our eyes off him. Already she was letting go—and teaching me how to pray. 

Asking for Help

There is nothing wrong with asking for something in prayer, as this names for God the desires of our hearts. But sometimes in a culture that is so focused on results, this can also bleed into our prayer lives, leading us to treat God like a genie. 

Let yourself pray without asking God for “something that I want.” As the Father told Jesus in John 17:10: “Everything of mine is yours and everything of yours is mine.” Might this also be true of us, whom Christ lives within? 

Prayer: Already Yours

Fountain of love, grace, and beauty,
help make me aware of ways that I can partner with your flow.
Make my life a sacrificial offering while also cultivating my own identity as your beloved. 
Help me let go when I have given my all.
Help me give the fullness of what you have given to me
without attaching myself to the results of my efforts, for I know already that I am yours. 
Amen. 

Jesus set the example for addressing stress and fear.

There are times when the most loving, spiritual person can feel as if there’s nothing left to give. There may be feelings of sadness, frustration, or perhaps numbness. The body aches; it’s hard to concentrate and nothing seems fun. At best, the tasks that used to be so meaningful are just something to be endured.

Some call it burnout: feeling that you just can’t give any more, or that what you’re doing won’t make a difference. Some researchers in psychology discuss compassion fatigue: You’ve given until you literally can’t give any more. Burnout or compassion fatigue can strike anyone—professionals, parents, those with sick family members, volunteers, clergy, and religious.

Burnout is one of the hazards of my profession. I am a psychotherapist, working both paid and unpaid hours with a variety of people and needs—adults and children, individuals, couples, and families. My volunteer ministry is in bereavement. Setting boundaries among my personal, professional and parochial lives is a challenge, as it is for many people. In my case, an anxious client may call at three a.m., a grief-stricken parishioner at 9 p.m. It can seem that human needs know no limits.

My energy level, however, does have limits. As a therapist, I have one advantage: Part of my professional training focused on avoiding burnout, reading the first symptoms of job stress and handling the symptoms. Regular exercise, eating well, spending time in prayer and adequate rest are all natural vaccines against symptoms of stress, burnout or compassion fatigue.

A Great Role Model

I have another advantage—the example set by Jesus. So often we read that Jesus went off by himself to pray, to rest, to be alone with God. The message is clear: A healthy lifestyle is not enough. We need to get away and take time to be with God. Our strength is developed and renewed in intimate contact with our Lord. But even this is not enough to avoid burnout.

Vocations—whether in ministry, caring for the sick or dying, parenting, teaching, or our jobs—can be a paradox. We are in some ways enriched, but at the same time depleted by our experiences. We seek a balance among others and self and God: the desire to serve and the desire not to be bled dry by the service.

On a retreat some years ago, our retreat master, a Benedictine sister, spoke of the phenomenon of burnout. She spoke of how Jesus, driven to do so much, yet limited by his own humanity, coped with this. She quoted Mark 3:9, where Jesus told his disciples to “have a boat ready,” because of the crowds. Many retreat participants rushed to their rooms to check their Bibles at the next break. And there it was, just as she told us.

“Have a boat ready!” Four simple words, yet so rich in meaning on reflection! What is Jesus saying here?

First, Jesus expected to have excessive demands made upon him, as should we. The crowds might crush him, just as the seemingly endless demands of our vocations can crush us.

Second, Jesus set a limit on his labors for that session and withdrew. Jesus did not expect to work until he had met everyone’s expectations; the limit would be set by his own self-assessment, not the demands of the crowds. We can learn from this; our work cannot—should not—devour our lives. There will always be one more task, one more patient, one more phone call. If we expect to get “everything finished,” we are going to be very disappointed when we die without getting it all done.

Third, and perhaps most striking and important, Jesus asked his friends to help him take the needed respite. This was so different from the times he went off alone to pray, away from his friends. This time Jesus, truly God and truly human, did not anticipate being able to recuperate alone. The people Jesus loved most were to be part of his rest, refreshment and renewal. He needed them to get a boat ready and then to be with him on the boat.

Emulating Jesus

How glorious, and generous, an example Jesus has set for us! Jesus, constricted in his divine mission by the fragility of flesh and blood, knows intimately how mental and physical fatigue impacts our ability to imitate him. We can struggle in prayer, tend to our basic needs and even retreat for quiet rest, but this is not enough.

We also require the nurturing company of friends and family if we are to be fully refreshed and ready to serve again. We must take a break, but not always alone or on our own. We must be willing to ask our loved ones to “have a boat ready.”

Perhaps the “boat” is a dinner hour without television, radio or smartphone; perhaps it is a ritual of a quiet evening walk together or a weekend away. The “boat” may change its format to suit life’s circumstances, but the existence of a “boat” and the importance of loved ones to help “have a boat ready” are vital aspects of a healthy life. We will need it to be able to fulfill our vocations.

Jesus said so.

Learn about Jesus’ brief ministry here.