Once I went to a hospice facility to celebrate Last Rites for an elderly dying man. His family had told me that he had been uncommunicative for days. At the conclusion of the ritual, we began to recite the Our Father prayer. To everyone’s surprise, his lips moved, clearly mouthing the words to the Lord’s prayer. Stripped of most of his faculties, the man could still pray those precious God-given petitions. A lifetime of prayer had planted the words even deeper than his failing consciousness.

One of my close friends is a hermit priest who lives on a desert mountain. Recently I found myself in a group conversation about him. One vehemently objected, “What does he do up there all day? Nothing! Priests are down here working, running parishes, making a difference, and he…he is doing nothing! What a waste.” The words dripped with indignation and resentment. Most of the group quietly nodded in silent agreement. Were they correct?

I used to be a bad neighbor. I’d get wrapped up in my life and ignore those around me. Then I found sage advice from Benjamin Franklin to this effect: to be a better neighbor, ask someone to do a favor for you. It’s counterintuitive, isn’t it? Tell strangers that I need their help? Yuck. I’ll risk looking needy. Worse, I’ll be indebted to them. But I tried it, and it works like a charm. Recently I asked my neighbor Alan for a hacksaw, and Inga for an egg. They kindly obliged, and our friendship is growing.

In the days after the awful 2020 killing of George Floyd, a Catholic friend remarked, “Racism is today’s great evil. We should put all our energy into fighting it.” I admired her intuition that the church must stand firmly against evil. Amen, I thought. At the same time, something felt wrong. As months went by, I saw her steadily slide into bitterness and anger. Soon, despondency. She spoke of giving up the fight. Don’t we too wonder how to fight evil without losing our joy or energy?