This scholar takes a look at the environment that helped shape salvation.

The Incarnation of the Word of God took place in the land of Israel (also known as Palestine) 2,000 years ago. This includes the same geographical area we hear and read about in the daily news from the Middle East: Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Galilee, the West Bank. Jesus lived his entire life in this part of the world.

Because of Jesus’ presence and that of many other biblical figures, it is often referred to as the “Holy Land.” Those who visit the Holy Land will inevitably hear it described as “the Fifth Gospel.” Such a visit can contribute greatly to our appreciation of Jesus as a historical figure and a Jew.

Setting the Stage

The Holy Land is relatively small, about the size of Massachusetts or New Jersey. The northern area, with the Sea of Galilee and the Jordan River at its eastern border, is called Galilee; this was Jesus’ home for most of his life. The central portion is Samaria, and the southern section is known as Judea. The capital of Judea and the center of Jewish religious practice in Jesus’ time was Jerusalem, the place where Jesus was put to death.

During Jesus’ adult life, Galilee was ruled by Herod Antipas, one of the sons of Herod the Great. Judea was overseen directly by the Roman prefect or governor, Pontius Pilate, between 26 and 36 A.D. It was in this geographical and historical context that Jesus lived and worked. The Romans served as protectors for the Judeans from the mid-second century B.C. onward. However, by the first century A.D. they had integrated Palestine into the empire and taken direct political control of Judea.

Jesus’ Birth and Upbringing

The major sources about Jesus’ birth and upbringing are the infancy narratives in Matthew 1—2 and Luke 1—2. Because they combine historical facts, biblical interpretations and theology, they are especially challenging for modern historians to deal with.

A special difficulty is posed by the evangelists’ independent references to the virginal conception of Jesus. It is clear that Mary of Nazareth was the mother of Jesus, and her husband Joseph was the legal father of Jesus. But according to the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, the child Jesus was conceived “from the Holy Spirit.” The rules of strict modern historical scholarship do not allow for divine interventions in human affairs or for unique cases. But the Gospels present Jesus both as a divine being and as unique among humankind.

Historians today often try to explain away the virginal conception of Jesus as an example of the “birth of the hero” myth or as a cover story for Jesus’ illegitimate birth. But the parallels from other ancient texts are not convincing, and the rumors of Jesus’ illegitimacy more likely reflect early Christian affirmations of his virginal conception. So we are left with the fact that the only ancient sources we have independently state that Jesus was miraculously conceived through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Matthew and Luke also agree that Jesus was born in Bethlehem, near Jerusalem. Matthew gives the impression that Mary and Joseph had been living there already, while Luke explains that they traveled from Nazareth to Bethlehem so that Joseph, as a descendant of David, could be registered in his ancestral home as part of a Roman governmental census.

The place of Jesus’ birth contributes to his identity as the Messiah (Mt 2:6) and as the Son of David. While some historians consider this to be all too neat and even possibly invented for theological purposes, again the only ancient sources we have agree independently that Jesus was born in the town of Bethlehem.

Jesus’ Family

According to Mark 6:3 and Matthew 13:55-56, Jesus had four “brothers” named James, Joses (or Joseph), Judas and Simon, as well as several “sisters.” Since the second and third centuries these “brothers” and “sisters” have been explained in various ways—as full siblings of Jesus, as Joseph’s children from an earlier marriage, or as relatives (possibly cousins) who lived in the same area. The first explanation conflicts with the Church’s doctrine of Mary’s perpetual virginity, while the other two do not.

No one doubts that Jesus was raised in Nazareth in Galilee. That town did not have a distinguished history. We get a hint of this in John’s Gospel when Nathanael, one of Jesus’ first disciples, asked, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” (1:46).

According to Mark, Jesus worked as a tekton, usually translated as “carpenter” but probably meaning something broader like a general construction worker whose skills included carpentry. Matthew states that Jesus was the son of a carpenter. Both Joseph and Jesus may have worked on the elaborate buildings recently excavated at Sepphoris, not far from Nazareth.

Jesus, the Jew

Luke’s infancy narrative affirms that Jesus had a traditional Jewish upbringing. He was circumcised and named on the eighth day after his birth. Forty days after his birth he was “presented” at the Jerusalem Temple in keeping with the Jewish Law. At the age of 12 he made a Passover pilgrimage to the Temple with his parents. John’s Gospel indicates that Jesus made other pilgrimages as an adult in addition to the final pilgrimage that led to his death.

That Jesus participated in worship at the synagogue in Nazareth is clear from several Gospel accounts. Mark, Matthew and Luke portray him as reading the Scriptures in public and teaching there. The embarrassing fact that the people of his hometown rejected him serves as a guarantee of the event’s historical foundation. This is not the kind of story that early Christians might invent.

First-Century Judaism

Jews in Jesus’ time were united by three great institutions: the Jerusalem Temple, the land of Israel and the Law of Moses. Within that framework there were different ways of being a Jew.

• The Pharisees were a lay movement that sought to extend the Temple purity rules to all Jews and emphasized common meals featuring religious discussion.

• The Sadducees were a more conservative group that by Jesus’ time had gained influence over the Temple and its priesthood.

• The Essenes stressed community life and asceticism. Likely they were the people behind the Dead Sea scrolls. These were ancient manuscripts discovered in the late 1940s that were the remnants of the library of a Jewish religious sect usually identified as the Essenes.

• The Zealots were an activist group that engaged in armed resistance against the Roman occupiers.

• And there were end-time visionaries, scribes, chief priests, tax collectors and “sinners” (Jews who by choice or occupation, such as pig-keepers, did not observe all of the Jewish Law).

Jesus’ Place in Judaism

Where does Jesus fit on this map of Jewish groups and movements? On the one hand, Jesus has been described as a “marginal Jew” in a book of the same name by John P. Meier on the grounds that he defies any specific categorization. On the other hand, the scholar N. T. Wright portrays him in Jesus and the Victory of God as the incarnation of his people Israel and all its hopes.

We can say with some confidence that Jesus lived as an observant Jew; his quarrel was with the traditions attached to the Law. We can also say that among the various Jewish groups he was closest to the Pharisees in that they shared interest in such topics as resurrection, Sabbath observance and the relative importance of ritual purity, and entered into debate with them. What is beyond any doubt is that Jesus had some connection with the movement begun by John the Baptist.

The Ministry of John the Baptist

According to Luke’s infancy narrative, John was born to Zechariah and Elizabeth in their old age, and was a relative of Jesus through Mary. Luke notes that when John grew up “he was in the wilderness” before he began his public ministry. That wilderness would have been the Judean Desert, where the Dead Sea scrolls were discovered in 1947. If there is any direct connection between Jesus and the Dead Sea scrolls, it would most likely have come about through John the Baptist.

The Jewish historian Flavius Josephus provides a brief description of John the Baptist in his Jewish Antiquities, in a passage not modified by Christian scribes. Josephus describes John as “a good man” who urged his fellow Jews to practice virtue, to act justly and to show piety toward God.

He also referred to John’s distinctive rite of baptism in connection with repentance and forgiveness of sins. He attributed John’s execution under Herod Antipas to Herod’s fear that John’s growing popularity might result in some kind of rebellion.

According to the Gospels, John proclaimed the coming Kingdom of God in connection with his rite of baptism. Receiving John’s baptism was a sign of one’s willingness to turn one’s life around and to prepare for the divine judgment that will accompany the full coming of God’s Kingdom.

Jesus and John

That Jesus underwent John’s baptism is another well-established fact. Since John’s baptism was associated with “repentance for the forgiveness of sins,” this was not something that early Christians would have created.

It is also likely that John the Baptist served as a mentor to Jesus, one who to some extent guided Jesus, especially with regard to his vision of the coming Kingdom and how to prepare for it.

Yet eventually Jesus went his own way. Whereas John adopted an ascetic and world-denying lifestyle, Jesus celebrated festive meals and preached to all kinds of people. Whereas John emphasized the future coming of God’s Kingdom, Jesus also stressed its present dimensions. And whereas John preached moral renewal as a way to get ready for God’s judgment, Jesus invited sinners to throw themselves on the grace and mercy of God.

John’s Followers become Jesus’ Disciples

In John’s Gospel we read that the first two disciples of Jesus came to him on the recommendation of John the Baptist from within his own circle of followers (1:35-42). When he saw Jesus walk by, John said, “Look, here is the Lamb of God.” One of the two disciples was Andrew, who then brought his brother, Simon Peter, to Jesus.

Mark tells a somewhat different story. Simon and Andrew encounter Jesus while doing their work as commercial fishermen by the Sea of Galilee. When Jesus says to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people,” they immediately drop everything and go with him (1:16-18). While prospective Jewish students usually sought out a teacher, here the teacher calls the prospective students and they come. The lack of prior contact and preparation makes the story all the more dramatic. The reader naturally wonders why these businessmen would give up their livelihood and family life to join in the mission of Jesus merely on the strength of his command “Follow me.” Mark’s version thus highlights the personal charisma of Jesus.

Jesus’ first followers eventually became part of the group of the Twelve, the inner circle among Jesus’ disciples and the symbol of the renewed Israel (recalling the 12 tribes of ancient Israel). It was their privilege to be with Jesus and to share in his mission and ministry. Although the first disciples often misunderstood Jesus and even fled when he was arrested, they served as principals of continuity between the public activity of the earthly Jesus and the formation of the early Church.

On the historical level there is very likely something to the connection between the disciples of John the Baptist and the first followers of Jesus. It is also likely that Jesus’ first followers already shared something of his hope for and dedication to the Kingdom of God.

Devotion to the Blessed Virgin can be on full display in our backyard oases.

During the Middle Ages, the faithful saw reminders of Mary, the Mother of God, in the flowers and herbs growing around them. Violets were symbols of her humility, lilies her purity and roses her glory. They called her “Flower of Flowers,” and named plants after her. Marigolds were Mary’s Gold, clematis was the Virgin’s Bower and lavender was Our Lady’s Drying Plant.

Devoted to Mary, people decorated her altars with flowers on her feast days. Poets and popes praised her in hymns, as in this 15th-century Ave Maria:

Heil be thou,
Marie, that aff flour of all
As roose in eerbir so reed.

In the last century, prior to the Second Vatican Council of the early 1960’s, the faithful also honored Mary with flowers. May crownings were the tradition in Catholic schools during Mary’s month (May), and makeshift home altars bearing an image of Mary were decorated with the choicest home-grown blossoms.

Those traditions have almost disappeared, but the medieval custom of finding reminders of Mary’s attributes, glory and sorrows in flowers and herbs has left a legacy that can enrich our lives in this millennium.

In medieval times, legends about flowers and herbs, some of them dating from the first century, were used to instruct the faithful as well as entertain them. Those legends, as well as the Mary names of flowers, can still inform and delight us.

Reflecting on the flower names, we can honor Mary and find relevance for our own lives. We model Mary’s humility as we gaze upon the humble violet, sing her praises with petunias and share her sorrows as we behold the purple blossoms and sword-like leaves of the blue flag iris.

Flower and herb legends tell us about important moments in Mary’s life. The Madonna Lily was carried by the Angel Gabriel when he visited Mary to tell her God had chosen her to be the mother of the Savior. Our Lady’s Bedstraw, Holy Hay and other herbs became radiant in the humble manger where Mary gave birth to Jesus. Carnations and the Christmas Rose bloomed on that night.

More than 30 flowers and herbs bear legends about Mary’s life. Many of the plants can be easily grown in your own Mary Garden, a garden dedicated to Mary and containing her image and plants associated with her by name or legend. They are found in Mary Gardens throughout the world, should you want to make a pilgrimage in Mary’s honor. The legends and reflections which follow can take us, in spirit and in our hearts, on a virtual journey with Mary.

Columbine
Aquilegia vulgaris. Our Lady’s Shoes.

Columbine is said to have sprung up wherever Mary’s foot touched the earth when she was on her way to visit her cousin, Elizabeth. The spurred flower resembles a little dove and came to symbolize the Holy Spirit. In England doves were used to decorate the altar in Whitsun Week, the week following Pentecost Sunday, as the faithful made a connection between the dove, the Holy Spirit and Our Lady’s Flower, the name they had given the columbine.

Reflection: Mary, how many miles you walked upon this earth! Your grace-filled being brought the Son of Man close to us. Have we ever thanked you for the role you played? Let us follow your footprints; even better, teach us to walk in your shoes.

Ox-eye Daisy
Chrysanthemum leucanthemum. Mary’s Star.

On the night that Jesus was born, the Magi, praying on a mountainside, saw a star appear in the form of a fair child. The child told them to go to Jerusalem, where they would find a newborn child.

When the Wise Men, following the star, reached the village of Bethlehem, they looked for a further sign. Suddenly King Melchior saw a strange white and gold flower that looked like the star that had led them to Bethlehem. As he bent to pick it, the door of a stable opened and he saw the Holy Family.

A mystery play called Office of the Star, a pageant about the Magi’s visit on the Feast of the Epiphany, began as part of the liturgical service in the 11th century, probably in France. Later it was replaced by Feast of the Star, performed partly in church and partly outdoors.

Reflection: Things, persons and events are prophets pointing the way to God; they are priests and people praising God. Did you learn, Mary, to discern God’s graces long before Bethlehem and the coming of your child? If only I could share your wisdom, as did the Wise Men who knelt down before the child in your arms.

Juniper
Juniperis. The Madonna’s Juniper Bush.

In Sicily, it is told that the juniper bush saved the life of Mary and the infant Jesus during their flight into Egypt. As the soldiers pursued them, the Holy Family hastened through fields of peas and flax and thickets of various shrubs. A juniper bush growing nearby opened up its thick branches to enclose the Holy Family, hiding them until Herod’s men had left. The inside of the large bush became a soft bed, sheltering the fleeing family, while needles on the outside branches grew prickly as spears. Herod’s soldiers could not penetrate the spiky branches of the juniper and passed the family by.

The juniper mentioned in the Bible is thought to be Genista raetum, called White Broom or Juniper Bush in Palestine, which produces a scraggly plant not casting much shade. The common juniper is mentioned in the first European herbal, De Materia Medica, by a first-century Greek physician named Dioscorides. In the Middle Ages it was used in gardens with other scented herbs.

Reflection: Our garden of life includes blessing and despair. We marvel that the two can go hand in hand. Just as we note the splendor of our gardens, we also note the toil and sweat it takes over the years to establish a good garden. Egypt worked hard to make a land where junipers can thrive. Mary, you, Joseph and the child would live there for a while. Sometimes I wonder how you mastered life in the desert. Teach me.

Fuschia
Fuchsia magellanica and hybrida. Our Lady’s Ear-drop.

The gently drooping flowers resemble ear-drops or pendant earrings. It is told that Jesus may have playfully hung flower jewels of ruby and amethyst colors on his mother’s ears.

In Devonshire, England, the old folks said Our Lady’s Ear-drop was the only name they had ever known for the flower. It is said that their forefathers, on first seeing the flowers and noticing how they resembled ear-drops, named them in Mary’s honor. It may be that pious persons named the blossoms Our Lady’s Ear-drops as their way of paying tribute to Mary, who through her ears “heard the word of God, and kept it.”

Reflection: A baby’s fascinated play—tugging at his mother’s ear, exploring ears, mouth, nose and the softness of her skin—brings a smile to those who watch. Lovers, even little ones like this child, deck the beloved with lovely things, tuck flowers in her hair, make wreaths to bring her joy. Mary, nourish my love for you and Jesus.

Lily of the Valley
Convalleria majalis. Mary’s Tears.

It was said that when Mary wept at the foot of the Cross, her tears fell to the ground and turned into the tiny fragrant blossoms of this early spring plant. In England it had the name “Our Lady’s Tears” because when viewed from a distance the white flowerets gave the appearance of teardrops falling.

The lily of the valley was a symbol of the Virgin Mary because of its pure white flowers, sweet smell and humble appearance. It symbolized Mary’s Immaculate Conception and represented the purity of body and soul by which Mary found favor with God.

Reflection: The sacred text does not speak of your tears, Mary, as our legend does. It tells us instead that you stood by the cross and you were not alone. Other women and John were also there. We wonder at the sorrow, the bitterness, the pain of this little community standing by. Fragrant tiny white lily-bells, a thousand quiet tears bowing before the still-cold winter winds, teach me of springtime and the Resurrection just beyond the stone-cold tomb.

Roses and Lillies
Rosa, red rose. Our Lady’s Rose; Lilium, white lily. Mary’s Lily.

About 12 years after Jesus’ resurrection, an angel appeared to Mary to tell her that in three days she would be called forth from her body to where her Son awaited her. Mary asked that her sons and brothers, the apostles, be gathered near her, so that she could see them before she died and so they could bury her. The angel told her the apostles would be with her that day, and they were immediately plucked up by clouds wherever they were preaching and transported to her house.

Then Jesus came for her and her soul went forth out of her body and flew upward in the arms of her Son. As Mary rose, she was surrounded with red roses and white lilies. Three days later, her body came forth from the tomb and was assumed into heaven, accompanied by a chorus of angels.

Thomas, however, was not present and when he arrived refused to believe that this had happened. He asked that her tomb be opened and when it was opened it contained only lilies and roses.

Roses and lilies have been symbols of Mary since earliest times. The rose, emblematic of her purity, glory and sorrow, was her attribute as Queen of Heaven and a symbol of her love for God and for Christ, her son. The lily represented her immaculate purity, her innocence and virginity.

Reflection: Your destiny is our destiny, Mary. Your life mirrors to us what ours is to be, if we but faithfully follow Christ Jesus who is the way, the truth and the life. We look forward, Mary, to our gathering in and homecoming; we also look forward to meeting you. Center us as you were centered. May he alone be the norm, form and goal of our lives.

Fleur-de-lis: Iris pseudacorus.
Yellow flag iris

During the 14th century in France, a wealthy knight, Salaun, renounced the world and entered the Cistercian Order. He was very devout but could never remember more than the first two words of the Ave Maria. He kept repeating the two words, “Ave Maria,” as he prayed to the Virgin. He prayed to her day and night, using only those two words. He grew old and when he died was buried in the chapel-yard of the monastery.

As proof that Mary had heard his short but earnest prayer, a fleur-de-lis plant sprang up on his grave, and on every flower shone in golden letters the words “Ave Maria.” The monks, who had ridiculed him because of what they viewed as his ignorant piety, were so amazed that they opened his grave. There they found the root of the plant resting on the lips of the knight. Finally they understood his great devotion.

In Chartres Cathedral in France, the famous 13th-century rose window of the north transept, which depicts the Glorification of the Virgin, includes the fleur-de-lis, said to be a symbol of the Annunciation.

Reflection: Mary, more countless than the drops in an ocean or stars in the firmament are the repetitions down the ages of those gracious words: Hail, ave, full of grace, the Lord is with you. I add my chant, my prayer, my roses and lilies to the wellspring of praise.

Planting a Mary Garden

A Mary Garden is a garden dedicated to Mary, the Mother of God. In a Mary Garden, which can be as small as a clay pot or as large as a city block, a statue of Mary is surrounded by herbs and flowers which have special significance for her, through legends or naming.

Your personal Mary Garden can grow in a secluded corner of your garden or backyard or open to the neighborhood in front of your house. It can be in a pot on your windowsill, on a patio or on an indoor table.

A Mary Garden can be formal or wild, sunny or shady, containing annuals and perennials, herbs, ground covers and shrubs. It can be planted with bulbs to bloom in the early spring, plants that continue into the fall and evergreens that give color in winter.

Mary’s image might be a statue, plaque, holy card or icon. Ann Duffy of Annapolis, Maryland, painted the likeness of Mary’s face from a holy card on a piece of wood and waterproofed it for her outdoor garden. A large concrete statue of Mary, found in a garden ornaments shop, graces my Mary Garden.

The location, size and soil of the site will determine what can be planted in an outdoor garden. After that, personal preference, and sometimes Divine Providence, is the guide. Since the Mary names of hundreds of flowers and herbs have survived, your garden may contain many of your favorite flowers, planted with the intention of honoring Mary and representing her many attributes. An indoor garden might be planted in a dish, planter, glass or fishbowl.

St. Christopher—patron of travelers—is one of the most endearing for Catholics. His life and story, bordering somewhere between legend and legitimacy, is an exercise in service, grace, and love.

There is a beloved saint who was ousted from the Roman calendar in 1969. His image can be found inside of cars, on the walls of churches, and around the necks of safety-seeking travelers. His most prevalent image is that of a tall, formidable man who wades across an unruly river. Wooden staff firmly in hand, his face is often strained, looking upward to the sweet-faced child resting on his oversized shoulders.

He is referenced in literature: “A Cristofre on his breast of silver shene,” Chaucer wrote in The Canterbury Tales; and in film, such as 2005’s Crash in which a habitual car thief uses his trusty St. Christopher medal as a good-luck charm.

Christopher has proven his resilience, growing in popularity over the centuries and withstanding suspicious historians who have questioned his validity.

The Wounded Wanderer

He was a man of many names, Offerus being one of them. Born in the third century in Asia Minor, son of a king, he would grow to be a restless young man of considerable size. The early years of his life were spent in search of riches, of purpose, of a cause worthy of his allegiance.

As the story goes, a young Offerus, looking for the strongest and boldest ruler to follow, briefly courted Satan. When his new master cowered in fear at a holy cross on the side of a road, Offerus abandoned Satan, choosing light over darkness. During this period of transition, a holy hermit awakened the restless wanderer to Christianity, schooling and baptizing him. From then on, Offerus pledged his life to Christ and vowed to serve God’s people along the banks of an untamed river. So he built a hut and set up camp with a new purpose—to be a boatman to the world.

His popularity was solidified when a small child once approached him, wanting safe passage across the water. He hoisted the boy on his shoulders and, with his trusty staff, began the journey. As the river deepened, the child began to grow heavier. Waters quickly rising, the precious cargo continued to weigh the giant down. According to historians, as he reached the banks of the river, Offerus said, “Child, thou hast put me in great peril; thou weighest almost as if I had all the world upon me: I might bear no greater burden.”

“Christopher,” the little boy responded, “thou hast not only borne all the world upon thee, but thou hast borne Him that created and made all the world, upon thy shoulders.”

The child instructed Christopher (meaning “Christbearer”) to cross the river again and plant his staff in the ground, telling the ferryman that life would spring forth. To Christopher’s astonishment, by morning his staff had taken root—bright flowers and fruit grew from it.

The rest of Christopher’s life is even sketchier in detail. One legend states that many in the immediate area converted to Christianity based on his encounter, which drew unwanted attention. In Lycia—present-day Turkey—under Emperor Decius, he was imprisoned, shot with arrows, burned and then beheaded around 251 A.D.

Though the life of this mighty martyr was later questioned by historians, St. Christopher’s story and his worldwide appeal have proven invulnerable.

St. Christopher’s Legacy

Did Christopher really exist or is his life a work of fiction? Dr. Lawrence Cunningham, author and John A. O’Brien Professor of Theology at the University of Notre Dame, believes the his life is, indeed, rooted in truth.

“It’s not clear, but there probably was a martyr during the period of Decius with whom all kinds of stories got identified,” Cunningham says. “And one of the ones that lasted was that he was a person who took people across a river and was given a name that means ‘one who bears Christ.'”

St. Christopher’s popularity, like his giant staff, bore much fruit. According to Francis Mershman in the Catholic Encyclopedia, Volume III, a brotherhood that guided travelers over a massive Alpine pass in Tyrol and Vorarlberg was founded in 1386 under his patronage.

In the early 16th century, a St. Christopher temperance society was active in European areas such as Carinthia, Saxony, Styria and Munich. A picture of Christopher was found in a monastery on Mt. Sinai dating from the time of Justinian (527-565). His image was cast on coins in Bohemia, and his statues could be found on bridges, imparting safety to their many travelers.

Christopher’s woodcarvings and paintings were hung on the walls of many European churches, often accompanied by the inscription, “Whoever shall behold the image of St. Christopher shall not faint or fall on that day.” Further proof of his early popularity, St. Christopher was included as someone invoked against an assortment of hardships. He was also chosen as the patron of Baden, Brunswick and Mecklenburg.

And that popularity never wavered. Even somewhat recently, organizations such as “The Christophers,” founded by Father John Keller, M.M., in 1945, are named after him. The Christophers’ purpose is to encourage all individuals to celebrate “their abilities and use them to raise the standards in all phases of human endeavor.” It’s a fitting principle.

Despite St. Christopher’s long-lasting influence, aspects of his life are shrouded in myth and in legend. But Cunningham believes his popularity, regardless of overwhelming uncertainty, is unmistakable. “I think what happened was that St. Christopher entered into the popular culture. He became an icon well beyond whatever historical veracity we have relative to his name.”

An Identity Crisis

Worldwide popularity and admiration aside, Christopher’s legitimacy has always challenged him. In the 16th century, Desiderius Erasmus, a Dutch humanist and writer, argued against him in The Praise of Folly. Erasmus, who Cunningham charges with an “acidic pen,” believed that the cult of St. Christopher was simply a retelling of the Hercules legend because of his great size.

The beleaguered giant met with further hard times in 1969 when the Vatican—under Pope Paul VI—took the Roman calendar and did some spring cleaning. Several holy names, including Christopher, were booted from the general lineup because their legitimacy could not be confirmed.

But Cunningham believes it had more to do with maintaining organization than denouncing Christopher’s life. “This was an attempt to get the cycle of saints into some kind of rational order,” Cunningham says. “So what they did was go toward those whose historicity was shaky.” St. Christopher was even downgraded on his own feast day, since he shares July 25 with St. James the Greater, an apostle. Though his life is questioned and his legacy demoted, loyalty to Christopher is by no means a dereliction of Church law.

“The Church typically doesn’t discourage any form of devotion that is not clearly heretical,” Cunningham assures. “Still maintained—not so much in American churches but European churches—are all kinds of relics, even though their authenticity is, to put it mildly, dubious.”

Dubious or not, St. Christopher’s status and influence are still formidable: His image is on prayer cards and medals, Masses are said in his honor and parishes around the world still bear his name.

A Saint Comforts a Tense Traveler

Regardless of whether St. Christopher existed or not, for many people, his grace and his talent for keeping worried travelers at peace are beyond dispute—especially with this writer. A month after 9/11, I flew to across the country to do an interview for a story. Being no fan of air travel, I was nervous and hesitant, to say the least. I slept poorly for days before the trip. I imagined our airplane plummeting to the hard earth. Like the legend, it felt as if the weight of the world rested on my mind and my shoulders.

As the plane took off (and throughout the duration of the flight), I held my St. Christopher medal tightly in my hand to the point of numbness, which obscured my fears. I believe the medal kept me sane and rational through the flight. It’s around my neck each time I leave the house. And I am one traveler among many who feels St. Christopher imparts such grace along life’s uneven journey.

Whether his story is more fiction than fact is hardly relevant: To his believers, he bears Christ. Allegiance to him will not likely wane. Cunningham agrees, believing this man of God is woven too tightly into our spiritual tapestries to simply fade away.

“It can be summed up in a short answer: Old habits die hard. People find something charming about St. Christopher and the story associated with him.”

St. Christopher reminds us that, in our own way, we carry Christ on our shoulders and in our hearts across mighty rivers.

Sidebar: Lessons from a Gentle Giant

Christopher can do more than give drivers peace of mind on the interstate. As this great ferryman guided the weary across a wild river, his virtues can be a guide for us today.

REDEMPTION: Like many of us in our youth, St. Christopher sought riches, notoriety and flash. It took a hermit with a zest for God to turn a stubborn young man into a self-imposed pauper, lacking in wealth but rich in faith.

COURAGE: St. Christopher battled many undercurrents: the devil who could offer no salvation, an oppressive society that punished people for their faith, a hazardous river that only a giant could cross. So brave was he in the face of adversity that even the weight of the world on his shoulders could not overburden his courage.

SERVICE: With purportedly little talent for preaching and fasting, St. Christopher fell back on his signature gift to serve others: his size. A simple man with a pure heart, he pledged to carry people through danger, turning a seemingly menial task into the noblest of deeds.

SACRIFICE: When St. Christopher was imprisoned and killed for his beliefs, like all martyrs, he proved the sincerity of his convictions by dying for them. His rich faith and deep love for God dwarf even his legendary size.

RESILIENCE: Kids can be a handful. St. Christopher felt it firsthand when a peculiar little boy nearly caused them both to sink. Frightened but faith-filled, the ferryman showed resilience in task and strength in body, proving that imminent death can do little to drown a buoyant spirit.

Enjoy this prayer in honor of St. Christopher!

On the 100th anniversary of these apparitions, an excerpt from a new book looks into their most talked-about element.

Between May 13 and October 13, 1917, three Portuguese children received apparitions of Our Lady at Cova da Iria, near Fatima, a city 110 miles north of Lisbon. Mary asked the children to pray the rosary for world peace, for the end of World War I, for sinners, and for the conversion of Russia.

Mary gave the children three secrets. Since Francisco died in 1919 and Jacinta the following year, Lúcia revealed the first secret in 1927, concerning devotion to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. The second secret was a vision of hell.

Pope John Paul II directed the Holy See’s secretary of state to reveal the third secret in 2000; it spoke of a “bishop in white” who was shot by a group of soldiers who fired bullets and arrows into him. Many people linked this to the assassination attempt against Saint John Paul II in St. Peter’s Square on May 13, 1981. —Saint of the Day

The third secret was revealed to the children at the Cova on July 13, 1917. It was to be kept in the greatest confidence. When Sister Lúcia was with the Dorothean Sisters in Tuy, Spain, she fell ill in mid-1943. Because it was feared that she could die before the third secret was revealed by her, the bishop of Leiria requested that she write down the remainder of the secret (or third secret) told to the children in 1917. Obediently, and in the midst of her painful sickness, Sister Lúcia wrote it down on a single sheet of paper. She placed it in an envelope and sealed it.

Before we look at Sister Lúcia’s testimony, I offer the words of then-Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, who gives some context to the revelations of Lúcia. There was great speculation and controversy over the third secret of Fatima because it was kept under wraps for many years. In his theological commentary The Message of Fatima, Cardinal Ratzinger pointed out that the contents of the envelope that held the third secret for so long might be “disappointing” to some.

“A careful reading of the text of the so-called third secret of Fatima, published here in its entirety long after the fact and by decision of the Holy Father, will probably prove disappointing or surprising after all the speculation it has stirred. No great mystery is revealed; nor is the future unveiled. We see the Church of the martyrs of the century which has just passed represented in a scene described in a language which is symbolic and not easy to decipher. Is this what the Mother of the Lord wished to communicate to Christianity and to humanity at a time of great difficulty and distress? Is it of any help to us at the beginning of the new millennium? Or are these only projections of the inner world of children, brought up in a climate of profound piety but shaken at the same time by the tempests which threatened their own time? How should we understand the vision? What are we to make of it?”

Cardinal Ratzinger discussed the secret of Fatima in depth in The Message of Fatima, the full text of which is available online on the Vatican website (vatican.va). For now, we focus on his words:

“And so we come to the final question: What is the meaning of the ‘secret’ of Fatima as a whole (in its three parts)? What does it say to us? First of all, we must affirm with Cardinal Sodano: ‘. . . the events to which the third part of the “secret” of Fatima refers now seem part of the past.’ Insofar as individual events are described, they belong to the past. Those who expected exciting apocalyptic revelations about the end of the world or the future course of history are bound to be disappointed. Fatima does not satisfy our curiosity in this way, just as Christian faith in general cannot be reduced to an object of mere curiosity. What remains was already evident when we began our reflections on the text of the secret: the exhortation to prayer as the path of ‘salvation for souls’ and, likewise, the summons to penance and conversion.”

Now let us look at what happened and what the three young shepherds witnessed. As discussed above, in 1943, Sister Lúcia, under obedience to God, the bishop of Leiria, and the Blessed Mother, wrote the following description of the third part of the secret revealed to her and her two cousins on July 13, 1917:

“J.M.J. The third part of the secret revealed at the Cova da Iria-Fatima, on 13 July 1917.

“I write in obedience to you, my God, who command me to do so through his Excellency the bishop of Leiria and through your Most Holy Mother and mine.

“After the two parts which I have already explained, at the left of Our Lady and a little above, we saw an angel with a flaming sword in his left hand; flashing, it gave out flames that looked as though they would set the world on fire; but they died out in contact with the splendor that Our Lady radiated toward him from her right hand: pointing to the earth with his right hand, the angel cried out in a loud voice: ‘Penance, Penance, Penance!‘

And we saw in an immense light that is God: ‘something similar to how people appear in a mirror when they pass in front of it’ a bishop dressed in white ‘we had the impression that it was the Holy Father.’

“Other bishops, priests, men and women religious going up a steep mountain, at the top of which there was a big cross of roughhewn trunks as of a cork tree with the bark; before reaching there the Holy Father passed through a big city half in ruins and half trembling with halting step, afflicted with pain and sorrow, he prayed for the souls of the corpses he met on his way; having reached the top of the mountain, on his knees at the foot of the big cross he was killed by a group of soldiers who fired bullets and arrows at him, and in the same way there died one after another the other bishops, priests, men and women religious, and various lay people of different ranks and positions. Beneath the two arms of the cross there were two angels each with a crystal aspersorium in his hand, in which they gathered up the blood of the martyrs and with it sprinkled the souls that were making their way to God.”

The scenes that Sister Lúcia recalled are intense and wildly descriptive. We can only imagine what the three young visionaries experienced and thought upon receiving the great prophetic secrets of Fatima that day. The words and visions given by God and the Blessed Mother are meant for all of us.

Sister Lúcia’s Interpretation of the Third Secret

Almost 40 years later, in a May 1982 letter to Pope John Paul II, Sister Lúcia gave an interpretation of the third secret. She wrote: “The third part of the secret refers to Our Lady’s words: ‘If not, [Russia] will spread her errors throughout the world, causing wars and persecutions of the Church. The good will be martyred; the Holy Father will have much to suffer; various nations will be annihilated.’ The third part of the secret is a symbolic revelation, referring to this part of the message, conditioned by whether we accept or not what the message itself asks of us: ‘If my requests are heeded, Russia will be converted, and there will be peace; if not, she will spread her errors throughout the world.'”

At long last the third secret of Fatima was revealed. We learn from the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith: “The decision of His Holiness Pope John Paul II to make public the third part of the ‘secret’ of Fatima brings to an end a period of history marked by tragic human lust for power and evil, yet pervaded by the merciful love of God and the watchful care of the Mother of Jesus and of the Church.

The action of God, the Lord of history, and the co-responsibility of man in the drama of his creative freedom, are the two pillars upon which human history is built. Our Lady, who appeared at Fatima, recalls these forgotten values. She reminds us that man’s future is in God, and we are active and responsible partners in creating that future.”

Pope John Paul II and the Third Secret

The envelope containing the third secret was not to be opened before 1960. Sister Lúcia had asked her bishop of Leiria to read it but he refused. Instead, it was given to him for safekeeping, and later, to ensure better protection, it was placed in the Secret Archives of the Holy Office on April 4, 1957.

On August 17, 1959, Father Pierre Paul Philippe, OP, the commissary of the Holy Office, with the agreement of Cardinal Alfredo Ottaviani, brought the envelope that contained the third secret of Fatima to Pope John XXIII. According to the Message of Fatima, Pope John XXIII hesitated and said, “We shall wait. I shall pray. I shall let you know what I decide.”

Pope John XXIII decided not to reveal the secret and returned the envelope to the Holy Office. Almost six years later, on March 27, 1965, Pope Paul VI read the contents and decided not to publish it. The envelope was then returned to the Archives of the Holy Office.

Not long after he was seriously wounded in a burst of gunfire in St. Peter’s Square, Pope John Paul II requested the envelope containing the third part of the secret. The pontiff had written a message to be read to pilgrims in Fatima to commemorate the anniversary of the apparitions. Astonishingly, this message was being read aloud on May 13, 1981, at the moment Mehmet Ali Agca fired shots at the pope, who was standing in an open car moving slowly into St. Peter’s Square, which was filled with more than 10,000 people.

Pope John Paul II was shot four times and suffered severe blood loss. He was near death when he arrived at Gemelli Hospital. His very first thoughts were on Fatima when he regained consciousness. He began to read Sister Lúcia’s memoirs and her letters during his months of recuperation at the hospital. The recovery was slow going, but the pontiff knew what he needed to read next. On July 18, Pope John Paul II asked for the envelope containing the third secret of Fatima.

Cardinal Franjo Seper, prefect of the Congregation, gave two envelopes to Archbishop Eduardo Martinez Somalo, substitute of the secretariat of state, to be delivered to the pontiff. One was a white envelope that contained Sister Lúcia’s original writing in Portuguese. The other envelope was orange and contained the Italian translation of the secret. The two envelopes were returned to the Archives of the Holy Office on August 11, 1981, after a review by Pope John Paul II.

The pope was very moved upon reading the contents of the envelope as the reality of the secret sunk deeper into his heart. He immediately thought of consecrating the world to the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

He believed that on May 13, 1981, which was the 64th anniversary of the first apparition in Fatima, the Blessed Mother guided the bullets that shot him to protect him from death. The third secret of Fatima was so much about him, the “bishop dressed in white.” Pope John Paul II recognized himself as the pope (or bishop) who, in the third part of the secret, was killed. However, Pope John Paul II was not killed, but was miraculously saved by the Blessed Mother.

Some would later say that Pope John Paul II couldn’t possibly be the “bishop in white” in the vision because he did not die. To that, Pope John Paul II answered that he should have died, but the Blessed Mother brought him back from the brink of death. He even went so far as to say that the Blessed Mother gave him back his life. There was no question in his mind.

Controversy over the Third Secret

The third secret of Our Lady of Fatima was made public on May 13, 2000, at the beatification Mass of Francisco and Jacinta Marto. The Mass was held in the Cova da Iria, where Our Lady told the young shepherds the three secrets.

As soon as the third secret was revealed, controversies spread like wildfire. Many questioned whether the Vatican was holding back the full secret. Was the Church revealing the authentic text? Where were the words about an impending great apostasy, a warning of a nuclear holocaust, or about Satan entering the Church? People wanted to believe that the third secret was about impending disasters. As Cardinal Ratzinger predicted, many were disappointed once the secret was revealed, and for some, disappointment led to suspicion.

Many conspiracy theories surfaced.

In the document The Message of Fatima, by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Archbishop Bertone stated: “There is only one manuscript, which is here reproduced photostatically.” Sister Lúcia also confirmed the Vatican text. She met with Archbishop Bertone and Bishop Seraphim de Sousa of Leiria at her Carmelite convent in Coimbra, Portugal, on April 27, 2000. Two envelopes were presented to her by the archbishop. The first envelope was the outer envelope containing the second envelope, which held the third secret.

Sister Lúcia touched the letter and stated, “This is my letter.” She then read it and said, “This is my writing.” She was asked if it was the only third secret. She said, “Yes, this is the third secret, and I never wrote another.”

On November 17, 2001, Sister Lúcia met again with Archbishop Bertone. A Vatican Secret Service communique about their meeting, dated December 20, 2001, and titled “Sister Lucy: Secret of Fatima Contains No More Mysteries,” states:

“With reference to the third part of the secret of Fatima, [Sister Lúcia] affirmed that she had attentively read and meditated upon the booklet published by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith [The Message of Fatima] and confirmed everything that was written there. To whoever imagines that some part of the secret has been hidden, she replied: ‘Everything has been published; no secret remains.’ To those who speak and write of new revelations, she said: ‘There is no truth in this. If I received new revelations, I would have told no one, but I would have communicated them directly to the Holy Father.'”

Our minds and hearts should be at complete ease knowing that before her 2005 death, Sister Lúcia made absolutely sure that Our Lady’s words and messages were revealed to the world at the proper time, and that the consecration of the world—including Russia to Mary’s Immaculate Heart—was fully made appropriately to satisfy the Blessed Mother.

You might not think a blind person could be a sports broadcaster, but this man won an Emmy doing it.

The 1950s-era New York dailies, masters of hyperbole when it came to viewing their sports heroes through the what-have-you-done-for-me-lately lens of hero or goat, called it “the shot heard ’round the world.”

Bobby Thomson’s three-run, walk-off home run in the bottom of the ninth inning on October 3, 1951, at the Polo Grounds lifted the New York Giants to an improbable 5–4 victory over their bitter rivals, the Brooklyn Dodgers, giving them a ticket to the World Series as National League champs.

At his microphone perch above home plate, Giants radio announcer Russ Hodges barked out one of the iconic calls in major league broadcasting history: “The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant!”

About 22 miles away—in Jersey City, New Jersey—12-year-old Eddie Lucas stood transfixed. Eddie had pleaded with his father before going to school at PS 22 that Wednesday morning to let him skip class: the decisive World Series play-in game started at 1 p.m., and Eddie didn’t want to miss a pitch.

When Ed Lucas Sr. didn’t relent, his son had to squirm at his desk until the 3 o’clock bell and then rush home to watch what was left of the first nationally broadcast baseball game on the family’s 12-inch, black-and-white Philco television.

When Thomson’s winning homer sailed toward Coogan’s Bluff, Eddie’s father opened all the windows in their Lafayette Gardens apartment and screamed at the top of his lungs.

Eddie changed into his wool Giants jersey and bolted for the door. He was going to the blacktop skating rink to meet his friends and celebrate. He was going to play ball.

Had his protective mother, Rosanna, been at home, Eddie probably would not have been allowed out of the apartment. Eddie was born with limited eyesight. He wore thick glasses to see the blackboard at school. Ophthalmologists told his parents Eddie might lose his sight completely if he ever took a jolt to the head.

That didn’t matter now. The Giants were going to the World Series, and Eddie was going to play in the gloaming.

The pickup game among friends started out with almost full squads, but as the October sky grew darker, more kids had to head home for dinner. Now it was five against five, and Eddie got a rare treat: he took the mound to pitch, something he almost never was selected to do.

Even though he could barely see without them, Eddie took off his glasses and placed them on the ground. The next shot heard ’round the world was a line drive that hit Eddie squarely in the face, which robbed him of his remaining sight and, at the same time, set in motion his incredible journey to become major league baseball’s first blind broadcaster.

Faith, Family, Friends

Ed Lucas’ amazing story (cowritten by his son Christopher) of perseverance and living out his Catholic faith is in print—Seeing Home: The Ed Lucas Story; A Blind Broadcaster’s Story of Overcoming Life’s Obstacles—and the movie may be coming soon to a theater near you. “I tell people never to give up,” says Lucas, now 77 and living in Union City, New Jersey.

“I always say there were three things that got me through: faith, family, and friends.” Doctors trying to treat fully detached retinas in the 1950s didn’t have many options. One treatment required Eddie to keep his head motionless for two weeks, so nurses placed sandbags around his head to anchor it from any sudden movement. He ate his meals through a straw. Nothing worked.

On his 13th birthday, his uncle Gene bought him a braille watch, which had a handy popup glass so Eddie could feel the minute and hour hands. Eddie’s father worked as a pressman for The New York Times, and his blue-collar buddies pooled money to buy Eddie an expensive Victrola, which he used to listen to his favorite music, including the rock-and-roll tunes of Johnnie Ray, who went deaf in his left ear at age 13.

When the weather got warmer during the 1952 baseball season, Eddie’s parents rigged an extension cord to the family’s console radio so he could listen to the Giants games outside in the breeze.

In the background, Rosanna used her impeccable penmanship to write letters to Eddie’s favorite baseball stars on the Giants, Dodgers, and Yankees, and many of them wrote back, offering to host Eddie at a game whenever they could. One of the letters went to Yankees shortstop Phil (Scooter) Rizzuto, a diminutive player who had been told he was too short to play in the majors but went on to become the American League MVP in 1950.

In those days, as odd as it might seem today, ballplayers worked second jobs in the offseason to supplement their income. Rizzuto served as a greeter for the American Clothing Shop in Newark.

“I was sort of down and depressed, and my mother read in the paper that Phil was at the clothing store,” Lucas says. “I assume that she had spoken to him because when I went in there with my dad, Phil said, ‘I hear you’re a big baseball fan! You got to keep your spirits up!’ I was only 12 or 13 years old, and I was in awe.”

Before Eddie left the store, Rizzuto handed him his Yankees business card with his home phone number. “You take this and call me any time you want to talk,” Rizzuto told him. Eddie exchanged numbers, and a few days later, Rizzuto was on the phone, telling Eddie he was going to stop by in an hour to take him on a drive so they could grab dinner.

“He just loosened me up and talked about things, and he started to invite me to games,” Lucas recalls. “The one thing he kept encouraging me to do was to get a good education. And we became dear friends — my best friend in life — for 56 years.”

Nuns to the Rescue

Despite Rizzuto’s advice to get an education, Eddie thought it might be out of reach. “My only image of blind people was they had a cane and a cup, begging for money,” he recalls.

But his life changed once again. Every day, his father would take a fresh-air stroll with Eddie around the neighborhood, and after Mass they walked near the Jersey City Printing Company. One day a nun was at the front door, collecting alms, and Eddie’s father dropped a couple of bucks into her basket. As they walked away, Sister Hugh of the St. Joseph Sisters of Peace caught sight of Eddie and wondered why he wasn’t in school.

When Eddie’s father explained that his son’s doctors felt a schoolyard accident might permanently derail any hope of Eddie regaining his sight, Sister Hugh shot back, “That’s no excuse, doctor or not, to keep him from getting a proper education!”

That encounter changed Eddie’s life. Sister Hugh’s community ran the Holy Family School for the Blind, and the nuns there practiced tough love. On one of Eddie’s first days at school, he instinctively reached for the staircase wall with his right hand to help him navigate the steps from the second-floor dormitory to the first floor.

^{“The way you win in life is by getting
back up when you get knocked down.”
—Ed Lucas}

That’s when Sister Anthony Marie swatted his hand away from the wall. “At this school,” she told him, “we don’t put our hands out to feel the walls. We keep them by our sides.”

When Eddie protested that he needed the extra sensory help, Sister Anthony Marie replied: “Isn’t that a shame, Mr. Lucas? You’re not the only disabled person in the world. All of us have challenges to overcome in life and places to go. We are all in the same boat together. I suggest that you pick up your oar, and start rowing!”

At Holy Family, Eddie learned to match separate outfits by color, placing them in a left-to-right grid. When he graduated from eighth grade two years later, along with his diploma he received from the sisters a rosary and a braille Bible.

As he walked out Holy Family’s front door, Eddie stopped, turned around, and ran his hands over the brick wall. Sister Anthony Marie was there.

“Don’t worry about that, Eddie,” she told him tearfully. “We’re going to miss you around here, young man. You are very special indeed. From now on, don’t worry about walls. If you have any in front of you, just knock them down.”

For the last 62 years, Lucas has done exactly that.

Knocking Down Walls

After completing high school at the New York Institute for the Blind in the Bronx, he pursued a communications degree at Seton Hall University in South Orange, New Jersey. There was only one major obstacle: using a combination of public buses, it took Lucas more than three hours each way to get to and from school. He had to travel east from Weehawken, New Jersey, into Manhattan’s Port Authority Terminal, and then west again to Newark, where he walked four blocks to catch another bus to South Orange.

By then, Lucas had been gifted with his first guide dog—a German shepherd named Kay—which made her the only female on Seton Hall’s then all-male campus. “Father Walter Jarvis loved Kay—he named her the queen of the campus,” Lucas says. “I would go to confession to Father Jarvis every Friday. Kay was right there with me. She heard my confession, too.”

In the years since losing his sight in 1951, is friendship with Rizzuto and his invitations to attend Giants, Yankees, and Dodgers games had given Lucas a free pass into the cloistered inner sanctum of baseball. He met every major league star, even those on opposing teams.

On June 14, 1952, he had a chance to talk to Thomson inside the Giants’ Polo Grounds clubhouse about “the shot heard ’round the world”—both of them.

“I think my story sort of shocked him, but we became good friends,” Lucas says.

Since Lucas was on a first-name basis with so many major leaguers, he began interviewing them with an oversized, reel-to-reel tape recorder. His audio reports became prized content for “Around the Bases with Ed Lucas,” which debuted on Seton Hall’s radio station, WSOU, in the spring of 1959. After graduation from Seton Hall, Lucas became an insurance salesman but continued his connection with baseball. It wasn’t always easy facing the jealousy and the biases of big-name New York sportswriters who felt a blind person was taking up space in the locker room and the press box.

Occasionally, players ridiculed his disability. After one game, a visiting player saw Lucas standing by his locker, waiting to interview him. “Here’s what I’m not going to do—talk to a cripple,” the player said. “Is this a clubhouse or a circus?”

What Lucas recalls—even more than the player’s penetrating words—was the deafening silence. No reporter came to his defense. In tearfully recounting the locker-room incident later that night to Rizzuto, Lucas got the same kind of fatherly advice the Scooter had given him inside the Newark clothing store many years earlier.

“Phil told me to turn the other cheek,” Lucas says. “The way you win in life is by getting back up when you get knocked down.”

No one else could ever do what Lucas does near a batting cage. He can stand 10 feet away, hear the crack of the bat, and predict with nearly 100-percent accuracy where the ball is headed.

“I can’t explain it,” he says.

Heading for Home

Lucas says the toughest part of writing his autobiography was recounting the dissolution of his first marriage. When his wife left home, leaving him to raise his two young sons on his own, Lucas called on the three things that matter in his life: faith, family, and friends.

Several years later, his former wife sued and temporarily won full custody of the boys. Lucas was able to successfully regain custody with the help of an expert legal team paid for by friends, including Yankees owner George Steinbrenner.

Rizzuto testified at the trial, explaining how Lucas cared for his children with love, taking them with him to ball games. Lucas regained full custody on September 25, 1980. “That was Phil’s birthday,” Lucas says.

After obtaining an annulment, in 2006 Lucas married Allison Pfeifle, who may be the only person alive who knows more about baseball than Lucas. Rizzuto actually set the ball in motion for their budding romance. Rizzuto had stopped by a neighborhood flower shop and saw that the shopkeeper seemed distracted and down. The owner said her niece — Allison —was having trouble with her vision.

“I have a friend, Eddie Lucas, who is blind,” Rizzuto said. “Maybe he can help lift her spirits. Is it OK if he calls Allison?”

They were married on March 10, 2006, in a small chapel at Seton Hall, and then rode to Yankee Stadium, where they repeated their vows at home plate. It was the first time any couple had ever been married on that spot. “Boss George” Steinbrenner gave the OK and paid for the wedding.

“I guess my story is to not ever give up,” Lucas says.

Especially in the bottom of the ninth.

The quiet of the woods was a voice he couldn’t resist.

For some, it’s the call of adventure or the challenge of reaching a goal. For me, it’s the power of sacramentality that washes over me and refines itself with each spirit-testing trip. There is something deeply transformative in these little wanderings in the wilderness. And, once away from the noise and clutter of civilization, I can more clearly hear the Spirit’s tender whisperings within my soul and come home a better man.

Trail Magic and Journey Strength

Finding Christ on the Appalachian Trail (AT) went hand in hand with the exertion and the unexpected twists and turns I met along the way. Though I was determined to learn from last year’s “character-building,” two-day hike, there were many aspects I couldn’t foresee, events both beautiful and trying.

I had prepared for the rigors of the AT by packing my new and improved gear, my GPS-enabled cell phone and solar charger, and all the food and emergency items needed to keep me safe and sound. When I arrived at my starting point, I said goodbye to my wife and jumped out of my vehicle to make my way to the trailhead in Salisbury, Connecticut. There I encountered what I initially considered my first ever “Trail magic” occurrence: a fellow hiker and his mother with an open car trunk loaded with brownies, candy bars, and sports drinks to share.

Spending time with them was a wonderful beginning to the experience; but as I thought about it, it was really not the first Trail magic I had experienced. That godsend came in the form of two text messages from brothers at my church, wishing me well and promising to pray for my journey—an unexpected blessing that filled me with a sense of security and was a heaven-sent sign of the fellowship we shared as members of the body of Christ.

But perhaps the greatest Trail magic of all came from my bride, who chased after me as I made my way to the entrance to the AT because she had forgotten to pray with me before I began my trip. Her sweet words and tender tears were truly the greatest strength I would take with me on my trek.

Relationships and Incarnational Living

One of the best parts of the AT came in the relationships that I formed along the way. Sharing words, a shelter meal, or the hike itself was a reminder of my own relationship to the One who took on flesh for me. It was humbling to accept that there were hikers better equipped for the trail than I, and beautiful to discover that, in the end, it really didn’t matter. Here on this wilderness journey, we were all family, there to support and encourage one another along the way as we “hiked our own hike” together.

As those narrow trails and steep ascents pushed me to my limit, I remembered another man who 2,000 years ago made a trek into the wilderness to face the greatest of human temptations, and who later made the journey up the hill of Calvary to die so that I could be reborn. In that experience, I felt a renewed union to my own rebirth in Christ, experienced so many years ago.

The Confessional of the Woods

Along the weary way I found myself in the confessional of the woods. There was something powerful in being totally spent, in wondering when the climb would end, and in facing the fear that I might not make it. It left me in a very vulnerable place, a place where all I could do was surrender to the moment and draw strength from the One who bore the crushing weight of sin for me. I realized on those climbs that I was but a limited human being, full of frailties and flaws, and not at all in command of my destiny.

Here on the mountain I found it hard to conceal the many secret sins that I could hide so well from those around me at home. As I drew closer toward heaven—literally—there was a peace in letting go of the pettiness of my own lowly estate and taking on the character of a child in need of the strength of his Father’s care. As I poured out my sins before the Father, I felt an intense release and a profound reconciliation in the embrace of his forgiving arms.

Eucharist: Real Food and Drink for the Journey

I confess that as I hiked, I often neglected to take time for proper meals. Part of it was the rush of adrenaline as I hiked along; part was my own ego that pushed me to put more miles behind me more quickly than I had the previous year. While the energy from a sugary breakfast gave me a good start, it didn’t really sustain me as I struggled on through the day. What I needed was the protein and nutritious foods to give me the nourishment my body required. As the weakness slowed my momentum, I knew I should have eaten more—and more healthfully—while out on the trail each day.

Those times of hunger reminded me very powerfully of the Eucharist. There are times in my life when I fill myself with the goodies of pleasure and possessions, believing the temporary high they generate is enough to satisfy me. But what I truly need is the spiritual nourishment that comes from the bread of life and the cup of salvation, given to me in memory of the One who fills my deepest needs with himself.

My hunger on the trail brought to mind just how important it is for me to receive the spiritual food and drink that brings me the very life of Christ, without which I would fall flat on my face as I journey toward my heavenly goal.

The Confirming Presence of the Spirit

Finding water on the trail, especially on my third day out, was not as easy as last year, since there were fewer legitimate water sources along this part of the AT. At one point, I began to run out of water as I hiked the final leg of a 14-mile trek to the next shelter. I started rationing my intake: taking small sips every five minutes or so and then getting down to simple swallows as I found myself still more than two miles from my destination. Then, with fewer than two-tenths of a mile to go, I realized that I was completely exhausted, dehydrated, and discouraged. I kept pushing on, knowing I had to reach the shelter before I could drink again.

But when I came to yet another difficult climb, I sat down and called out to God, asking him to send me some help. Almost immediately, rescue came in the person of a fellow three-day hiker who generously offered some of his water, and then sat and talked with me as I regained my strength.

I was grateful to know that when I thirsted, God provided just what I needed to see me through. It made me think about how often my life can become so dry and depleted that I fail to recognize my need for God’s Spirit and his divine counsel. The living lesson of that day helped to reconnect me to the Holy Spirit, who filled me at my Confirmation, and who stands ready to enter into the dryness of my desert days and fill me with his presence once more. That hiking brother and his gift of cool water reaffirmed my belief that God sends miracles and angels into my life every day—if I’m willing to ask and look for them.

Later, while sipping fresh water in the coolness of the shelter, I recommitted myself to recognizing the purpose and power that each trial and treasure brings to me. In that ordinary experience, I found the touch of the Spirit’s hand.

Life Lessons Learned

I had originally decided to hike an extra day, but an injury to my left foot made me reconsider that plan. I could have pushed on through the pain, but there was no good reason. It would have been easy to see this as a failure, but truly the failure would have been in turning such a satisfying hike into a painful experience for no reason other than to prove to myself I could finish the arbitrary goal I had set. My purpose for the hike was to experience the sacramentality of each summit and the beauty of communing with my Creator, not to prove how strong (and stubborn) I could be.

And so I awoke the next morning, handed out some of my leftover food, and said my goodbyes to the great people I had met along the way. I hiked a mile down to the closest road, waited for my ride, and was ever so grateful when she arrived. Our first stop was at a local fast-food place for a much-desired steak, egg, and cheese bagel sandwich and an orange juice. To my delight, two of my hiking companions, a mother and daughter section-hiker team, called us to come and share a booth with them. We talked and laughed as I savored my sandwich, relishing the taste and the extreme satisfaction in filling my belly with something other than a sugary, jam-filled toaster tart.

It was so gratifying, too, to take in the joy of knowing that these two lovely ladies whom I had met as strangers now spoke with me as friends. I knew that most likely I would never see them again—at least not in this life—but what I did know was that I was richer for having met them. As we broke bread together one last time, what we shared served as a deeper sign of the joyful journey believers take as members of God’s family of faith.

Sacred Signs along the Way

The signs along the trail were everywhere, waiting for the grace of the Spirit to awaken me to them each day. Their mystery filled me to overflowing and spoke to my heart in ways I’m still working to understand. I learned that God uses my pain and struggle to give me a new perspective as I travel the deep valleys and ascend the great summits that lie before me. I was reminded that there are good and beautiful people in this world, fellow travelers with whom I can share the journey of life as I experience their strengths and unique gifts.

I discovered that these journeys are a way for me to let go of the mess and mistakes inside me, to get in touch with my vulnerabilities, and in the end to surrender all of that to a loving God, knowing that the result will be a beautiful and wonderful inner transformation!

On my next hike, I’ll be making some changes to how I do things. Each trip helps me to learn more about what’s really important and needed out on the trail—and on the journey of life, as well. Maybe I’ll meet some of the same hikers, or maybe I’ll make some new friends. I hope that sharing our stories together will serve as a sacred sign of God’s grace and give me the courage to continue to take my journey one step at a time.

I know my experiences will help to guide me for the next hike, and I may even make it a little farther than I did this time. Whatever will come my way, I’ll certainly surrender to the signs of the Holy Spirit and marvel at the mystery that speaks to my heart when I’m willing to listen and learn