by Mercedes and David Rizzo

Being the parent of a child with autism is not anything either of us would have chosen. In fact, you might say we went into it kicking and screaming, like any other parents faced with the same situation. During the diagnostic process 10 years ago we questioned whether the diagnosis of autism was accurate. After all, David had a history of late talking, and we were both confident that our daughter would soon develop speech and prove all the experts wrong. However, as time went on and speech never developed, we knew the diagnosis was true, and we found ourselves left to navigate the uncharted waters of autism.

Looking back now, we realize that our spirituality was immature. When faced with a life-altering event, one relies on what one knows. We thought if we took Danielle to shrines of our favorite saints, attended healing services, touched her with holy relics, and recited rosaries and novenas that our prayers would be answered in exactly the way we wanted. We called on such formidable saints as St. Padre Pio and St. Jude. We did it all! We never passed up the opportunity to ask for a cure. We thought we could bargain with God but, of course, God doesn’t work that way. Although there was nothing wrong with the practices we tried and our intentions were sincere, God had other plans.

God seemed to be showing us a different way of understanding. Our daughter’s lack of verbal language led us to adopt a more image-based and picturesque approach to prayer. Our spirituality became more intuitive and sacramental. We began to see Danielle’s lack of words as an image of God’s silence and a place to encounter the mystery and meaning in our lives. It became clear to us that God was revealing himself in a way we never could have imagined. It also became clear that Danielle was part of this plan, touching the lives of so many she encountered. Ultimately, Danielle’s autism led us in a new direction- helping children with disabilities and their parents to grow in the faith and participate fully in the sacraments of the Church. We have learned to trust God and the vision God has for our family.

by Peter A. Quinn 

A novelist and a Catholic, I practice my faith and my novel writing in separate spheres. I make no attempt in my books to explain or defend Catholic teaching. For its part, the church has enough problems without bearing responsibility for my ineptitude as a writer. Yet distinct as they are, the two are not sealed off from each other: The convictions that infuse and inform my writing are grounded in my Catholicism.

For me, the essence of novel writing is the exploration of character. I never start with an outline. I begin with characters. They give me my plots, not vice versa. My relationship with my Catholic faith is grounded in that same dynamic. Beginning with Peter (the name I was given at baptism), it is all about characters, the amazing troupe found in the Jewish and Christian Scriptures and the procession of saints and sinners I continue to encounter in my life.

As a child in the days of the Latin Mass, my ears perked up when I heard Peter mentioned in the Gospel. My fondness for him has deepened as I’ve grown older. Bullheaded, mercurial, a husband who worked hard at his day job (fisherman) while pursuing another vocation (apostle), Peter has been my patron in the struggle to believe and to hold a job, raise a family and write novels.

Whether Catholic or not, every novelist, it seems to me, can see him or herself in the scene from the Gospel of Matthew in which Peter summons the courage to get out of his fishing boat-to abandon his comfort zone-and walk on water. I remember having a similar experience when, after years of talking about writing a novel, I actually set out to write one. The sinking feeling that I was in way over my head soon followed the exhilaration of the first few steps.

In the Gospel, Jesus reaches his hand out to Peter and says to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” As a believer and a writer, I have shared Peter’s doubt. Each time I start a novel, I have the same sensation of going over the side of the boat. With all three novels I have published, I have despaired of finishing more times than I care to remember. In the practice of my faith, there are times I am confident and at peace; at other moments, I waver and feel bereft.

Peter did not drown. He gripped Jesus’ hand, pulled himself up and went back to the boat. He continued to live with his imperfections and kept wrestling with his doubts. He was rebuked by Jesus for his dimwittedness (“Get behind me, Satan”). Put to the test, he not only denied Jesus but ran away, absenting himself from the bloody scandal of Calvary. Even when he returned and took a leadership role, he was challenged by Paul for his narrow vision of the Christian community and made to change his stand.

At the very end, according to legend, Peter was fleeing martyrdom in Rome when Jesus appeared hurrying in the opposite direction. “Where are you going?” Peter asked. Jesus answered, “I am going to Rome to be crucified again.” Peter went back. Familiar as he was with failure, he did not give up. He persisted.

I have a statue of Peter in the room in which I write. He holds his iconic keys to the kingdom that Jesus said is in each one of us. My attachment to Peter is personal and professional. He is a constant reminder of our common human struggle with individual fallibility and the terrifying fragility of all existence-a struggle faced perhaps by novelists and artists in special ways.

Peter is also an example of a person undefeated by his flaws, able to acknowledge his inadequacies yet keep the faith, clinging always “to the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” I would find it impossible to be a novelist or a Catholic without taking to heart Peter’s worldly and holy persistence.

Listen to an interview with Peter A. Quinn.

Peter A. Quinn, formerly a speechwriter for two New York State governors, Hugh Carey and Mario Cuomo, retired from Time Warner as corporate editorial director in 2007. His third novel, The Man Who Never Returned (Overlook, 2010), was published in August.

by Allan Woods

In the summer of 2004 I was the vice chairman and chief information officer of a Fortune 500 financial institution. I led an international organization that consisted of approximately 8,000 people. Corporate jets, private dining rooms, first-class clubs and meetings at world-class resorts were all part of the package. My plan was to work several years and retire comfortably. But as Woody Allen once said, “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.”

Despite my privileged lifestyle, I felt restless and uneasy. Every day I asked Jesus to give me the wisdom to know his will and the courage to do it. The answer came that autumn in the form of an overwhelming desire to retire and become an emergency medical technician. I knew I would sacrifice anything to follow the Lord’s will, and somehow I knew this was it. Early in 2005 I announced my plans to a shocked chief executive officer and board of directors. By August, I was enrolled in an E.M.T. class.

For the past five years, I have worked part time in Pennsylvania and in South Carolina responding to 911 calls for E.M.S. organizations. I have spent thousands of hours in ambulances treating hundreds of patients. So much for my original plan for retirement.

I do not deal with change very well, and the summer of 2005 brought plenty of it. I left my comfort zone, retired and began E.M.T. certification. I battled doubts: What if I failed? What if I could not get my certifications? What if I could not cope with the trauma, crises and pressure of 911 calls? What if the skeptics who told me I was crazy were right? The words of that noted comic book character/philosopher Pogo, came to mind: “The certainty of misery is preferable to the misery of uncertainty.”

I reaffirmed my decision to stay the course, retire and go to school. In the midst of the uncertainty, I experienced an uncharacteristic peace, calm and focus. I was comforted by the many times Jesus had said not to be afraid, to trust him. Over the years, Jesus has helped me answer the fundamental question of why I am doing this. Jesus did not appear, call, text or send me e-mail, but I felt his answer: “Trust me totally; become humble and spread my message of love, healing and forgiveness.”

I began riding on ambulances as a trainee and received my certifications in February 2006. Responding to 911 calls was and continues to be one of the most humbling and challenging things I have ever done. I went from being the most senior person in the boardroom to the rank of rookie in the ambulance. I considered a shift a success if I did only one dumb thing. The majority of the heroic and dedicated people with whom I worked were younger than my children.

After the earthquake in Haiti, I joined a medical rescue and relief team to help there. When asked why I wanted to go, I said, “I want to bring the light of the face of Jesus into the darkness the Haitian people had experienced.” But when I arrived, I saw that although many Haitian people had nothing-no money, no homes, no food-they still had a sense of joy that comes from an unshakable faith.

A group of Haitian men built us a shelter made of tarps and poles to keep us out of the sun. These men disassembled their own homes to provide the materials. The victims of this terrible tragedy did not complain or blame. I joined them in healing and in prayer. When I returned home, I realized how arrogant my intentions were. The Haitian people had brought the light of the face of Jesus into the dark places in my soul.

Over the years I have realized that as important as emergency medical interventions are, kindness, gentleness and compassion can also heal in other ways. Holding a sobbing biker who had attempted suicide because of life’s failures, praying with the family of a 15-year-old who was seriously injured in an accident or holding the hand of a frightened elderly woman on the way to the hospital are ways Jesus spreads his message of love, healing and forgiveness.

I am privileged to pray with and for seriously ill patients in ambulances and emergency rooms. When leaving a patient’s bedside, I place my hand on his or her shoulder and say, “Good luck and may God bless you.” I have said this to a 95-year-old Catholic nun, an incarcerated double murderer and a male witch, among others. The most common response is, “God bless you, too.”

A reporter once asked me the major difference between my prior job as a corporate vice chairman and my current role as an emergency medical technician. I responded by explaining that my corporate job was what I did, but my current job is who I am. There are many ways to prove Jesus’ love and mercy. Using a broken soul like me to do his will also proves that God has a sense of humor.

Allan Woods, who retired as the vice chairman and chief information officer at Mellon Financial Corporation in Pittsburgh, is currently a certified emergency medical technician working part time in Pennsylvania and South Carolina. He is also chairman of the board of the Holy Family Institute, a Catholic nonprofit that cares for children and families in crisis. This the third in a series of articles on “Catholics at Work.”

by Becky Eldredge

On more occasions than I care to count, people will comment to me, “Ignatian spirituality does not have enough to do with Jesus. All you hear about is finding God in all things.” While in my head I am thinking of all the things I really would like to say in response to that comment, I typically take a deep breath and ask them, “Have you ever gone through the Spiritual Exercises? They are all about Jesus and a relationship with him!”

Here are the top five things the Spiritual Exercises taught me about Jesus.

1.Jesus was human. This understanding deepened within me during the Second Week of the Exercises as I prayed with the nativity Scriptures, holding a six-month-old in my arms. It was really Mary who showed me Jesus’ humanity, as a mother nurturing her infant son. Mary carried, birthed, and loved a child. I carried, birthed, and loved a child. The infant Jesus went through all the phases of growing up that my own children go through.

2.Jesus discerned his Father’s will. Praying through the Exercises helped me understand that Jesus grew in wisdom and understanding. Jesus asked his Father, “What is my next right step?” I, too, am called to ask God, Jesus’ Father, what is my “next right step?”

3.Jesus gets suffering. At times Jesus’ discernment of his Father’s will led him to some challenging situations: mockery by family and friends, unwelcome in his home town, betrayal by friends, and physical pain. Walking alongside Jesus and praying with Jesus’ experiences of suffering, especially during the Third Week of the Exercises, showed me how Jesus, a human (see #1), felt pain. Jesus gets our suffering because he experienced his own share in his life.

4.Jesus remained rooted in his Father. Through all of the challenging times Jesus faced, he trusted in his Father and turned to him in time of need for strength on his journey. With his Father’s help, Jesus entered Jerusalem and faced his death. What does Jesus’ dependence on his Father teach me? That when my own discernment leads me to face challenging situations, I, too, can lean on God, and God will walk with me through the journey.

5.Jesus was hopeful. Jesus’ hope came from his trust in God. Jesus understood that his passion was necessary for God to complete the rest of the plan-the Resurrection. Because Jesus was hopeful, I have a reason for hope in my own life. Because of Jesus’ trust in God, I have a reason to believe that in tough times, light will eventually come.

What have the Spiritual Exercises taught you about Jesus?

St. Ignatius wrote and revised the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus in this room.

by Jim Manney 

I’ve been to Rome twice. Both trips happened before I was interested in St. Ignatius, so I’ve never been to the house where he lived and worked for the last 14 years of his life running the Jesuit order as its first superior general. When I finally go there, I’ll think about the fact that this wasn’t Ignatius’s plan for himself. He thought he should be an itinerant evangelist and teacher; he wound up as a great churchman firmly planted in a small suite of offices in Rome. So it often is with us. Our journey to God can be a meandering one.

Here is a very interesting video visit to Ignatius’s home and office. (To watch the video on YouTube, click here.)

St. Peter Claver, SJ, was a member of the Society of Jesus and is the patron of African missions and of interracial justice, due to his work with slaves in Columbia.

Peter Claver was born to a prosperous family in Verdu, Spain, and earned his first degree in Barcelona. He entered the Jesuits in 1601. When he was in Majorca studying philosophy, Claver was encouraged by Alphonsus Rodriguez, the saintly doorkeeper of the college, to go to the missions in America. Claver listened, and in 1610 he landed in Cartagena, Columbia. After completing his studies in Bogotá, Peter was ordained in Cartagena in 1616.

Cartagena was one of two ports where slaves from Africa arrived to be sold in South America. Between the years 1616 and 1650, Peter Claver worked daily to minister to the needs of the 10,000 slaves who arrived each year.

When a ship arrived, Peter first begged for fruits, biscuits, or sweets to bring to the slaves. He then went on board with translators to bring his gifts as well as his skills as a doctor and teacher. Claver entered the holds of the ships and would not leave until every person received a measure of care. Peter gave short instruction in the Catholic faith and baptized as many as he could. In this way he could prevail on the slave owners to give humane treatment to fellow Christians. Peter Claver baptized more than 300,000 slaves by 1651, when he was sickened by the plague.

In the last years of his life Peter was too ill to leave his room. The ex-slave who was hired to care for him treated him cruelly, not feeding him many days, and never bathing him. Claver never complained. He was convinced that he deserved this treatment.

In 1654 Peter was anointed with the oil of the Sacrament of the Sick. When Cartagenians heard the news, they crowded into his room to see him for the last time. They treated Peter Claver’s room as a shrine, and stripped it of everything but his bedclothes for mementos. Claver died September 7, 1654.

St. Peter Claver was canonized in 1888. His memorial is celebrated on September 9.

Quote: “We must speak to them with our hands before we speak to them with our lips.”