The Eucharist is the cornerstone of our worship. It is more than just a ritual; it is the literal reenactment of the Last Supper, the moment when Christ instituted the sacrament of His body and blood. Catholics, Orthodox Christians, and even many Protestants hold this sacred act in deep reverence. Yet, in the wild world of modern, ungrounded worship, we have encountered an absurdity that can only be described as blasphemous: a church using Oreo cookies as communion bread.

Let that sink in for a moment. A woman wrote me saying she left her fellowship because someone forgot to bring the bread. Another member piped and said, “I have just the thing!” She ran to the nursery and grabbed a bag of Oreo cookies. Continue reading →

There’s something comforting about having a best friend you can turn to for advice, someone who listens without judgment and offers wisdom from a place of love. For many of us, that friend is Jesus Christ. What is even more comforting is that He’s not just a friend, but our Lord and Saviour—someone who knows us more intimately than anyone else ever could.

When life gets rough, and even when things are going well, Jesus is always there, ready to listen. Whether I am wrestling with a big decision, dealing with disappointment, or just trying to make sense of daily life, I know I can come to Him for guidance. I don’t have to schedule an appointment or wonder if He’ll be available. He’s always there, waiting for you and I to reach out to Him. After all, He isn’t a distant, abstract figure. He’s a personal friend who understands our struggles and joys because He experienced life as we do. He walked this earth, felt pain, faced temptation, and knew what it meant to be human. This makes Him the perfect person to turn to when we need counsel or comfort. He knows what it’s like to feel saddened, to be misunderstood, or to face difficult choices. Continue reading →

Living in isolation here at the hermitage, away from the chaos and daily troubles of the world, gives me a unique perspective on this passage from Galatians 5:24: “They that are of Christ have crucified the flesh with the passions and the lusts thereof.” In fact, this perspective would probably be shared by most solitaries or hermits. In this quiet life, I’ve come to understand what it truly means to crucify the flesh and live according to God’s commandments, in the love of Christ.

When we think of the “flesh,” we might think of the more obvious sins—lust, greed, envy, and anger—but it goes much deeper than that. The flesh represents the pull of worldly desires, the temptation to focus on ourselves instead of God, to seek comfort and pleasure instead of holiness. Here, in the silence of my surroundings, I’ve come to see that crucifying the flesh means more than just avoiding sin. It means taming the constant push of selfishness that lives in each of us, replacing it with a life dedicated to God’s will. Out here, there are no distractions from the modern world. No noise, no flashing lights, no busyness. And yet, the battle with the flesh continues. In the stillness, I can hear the temptations that are drowned out by the world’s distractions—meaning that when we are caught up in the busyness, noise, and distractions of the world, we’re not likely to notice certain temptations or sinful desires. These distractions can mask or suppress the inner struggles we face, making it harder to recognize them. However, in the solitude and quietness of the hermitage, where there are no such distractions, these temptations become more apparent and easier to recognize. In stillness, I can hear and face those inner temptations that might otherwise go unnoticed in a chaotic, fast-paced environment. The desire for comfort, the longing for recognition, even the subtle temptation to think I’ve “earned” holiness through my lifestyle—all of these can creep in. That’s why St. Paul the Apostle’s words are a constant reminder that being of Christ means dying to those desires, nailing them to the Cross just as He did. Continue reading →

“Be of good cheer, O my children, cry unto God, and he shall deliver you from the power and hand of the enemies.” (Baruch 4:21)

We’ve all been there. Life gets tough, and it can feel like everything is stacked against us. Whether it’s financial struggles, family issues, or just the weight of the world pressing down, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. But in moments like this, I’ve learned to lean on a Higher Power. Baruch 4:21 is a good reminder for this. It speaks directly to anyone feeling trapped by their circumstances. The phrase “be of good cheer” isn’t just about putting on a brave face. It’s an invitation to find real hope, even when things seem bleak. Notice the next part—cry unto God. This is not about handling things on our own. It’s about turning to the One who can truly deliver us. The Lord isn’t far off, watching from a distance. He’s ready to act when we call on Him.
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“This is the end of the matter; all hath been heard: Fear God, and keep his commandments; for this is the whole duty of man. For God will bring every work into judgment, with every hidden thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.” (Ecclesiastes 12:13)

After all the searching, the questions about the meaning of life, and the exploration of human existence, the writer of Ecclesiastes distills it all into this single conclusion. It’s a passage that speaks directly to the heart of what it means to live a life rooted in faith.

Over the years a lot of people have asked me if the phrase to “fear God” means living in terror or dread of of the Lord. The fear spoken of here and certain other passages of the Bible refers to a deep reverence and awe for the Creator, acknowledging His sovereignty over all things. I like to think of it as recognizing that God is both loving and just, all-powerful and merciful, and that our lives are ultimately accountable to Him. Fearing God means living with a sense of holy respect, knowing that He sees not only our outward actions but also the motives of our hearts. And it isn’t enough to simply acknowledge God’s authority; we must live in accordance with His will. His commandments, which are rooted in love, justice, and truth, provide the moral framework by which we are to live. Obedience to God is not about following a rigid set of rules for the sake of it; it’s about aligning our lives with His wisdom and understanding that His commands are given for our good.
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In the quiet stillness of the hermitage, where my life is centered on prayer and reflection, the tools that guide me through study and contemplation, along with the Holy Spirit, are more than just books—they are companions on my continuing spiritual journey on this earth. Each one plays a vital role in grounding me in the Scriptures, tradition, and the cycles of daily devotion. Here, I’d like to share the essentials that I rely on for my quiet time, study, and prayer.

American Standard Version (ASV) Byzantine edition. The American Standard Version of the Bible (and to a lesser degree, the English Revised Version), provides a trustworthy and literal translation of the Bible, one that is both accurate and familiar. It has a clarity that draws me into the Word of God, allowing me to engage deeply with the text while preserving the sacred beauty of the language. The ASV is often my starting point for meditation, offering a direct connection to God’s Word. The ASV was authorized by my spiritual director.
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There is a sacredness in the stillness of the day’s early hours, a kind of peace that envelops the soul as the world begins to awaken. In the quiet of the morning, before the day’s demands rush in, there is a rare opportunity to simply be—to rest in the presence of God and listen for His voice in the silence. I find that these moments of stillness are some of the most precious times to commune with the Creator. As the light of dawn gently touches the earth, I am reminded that each new day is a gift, an opportunity to draw closer to Him. The silence isn’t just the absence of noise—it is a space where the heart is more open, more in tune to the divine presence that surrounds and sustains all of creation. In these quiet moments, I am often drawn to ponder the teachings of Christ. His words, so often spoken in the simplicity of nature or the calm of the early morning, seem to resonate more deeply for me in this stillness. The Beatitudes, the call to love our enemies, the invitation to take up our cross—all of these teachings come alive in the silence, as a personal call to live in the light of His truth. Continue reading →

Living the contemplative life as a hermit is a serious and unique calling, marked by simplicity, solitude, and a constant turning toward God. While it may seem unusual to many, this life offers deep spiritual rewards for those who embrace it. It is a path of quiet transformation, where the heart is gradually shaped and refined by daily prayer, silence, and the experience of living in isolation. I would like to expand on some of the highlights of this life, at least from my point of view, sharing the blessings, challenges, and fulfillment that come with walking this solitary path. Continue reading →

This morning, as I sat by the window watching the birds, I watched the sunlight slowly break through the clouds. A welcome site after all the rain we have had recently. The way it touched the earth, warming the land reminded me of a simple truth: the sun shines on both the righteous and the unrighteous alike.

Our Lord, in His mercy, does not withhold His blessings from those who are far from Him. Just as He allows the sun to rise and the rain to fall on all people, He extends His love and patience to both believers and unbelievers. Christ Himself teaches this in the Gospel of Matthew: “He causes his sun to rise upon the good and the bad, and he causes it to rain upon the just and the unjust.” (Matthew 5:45) In this teaching I see an example for us to expand our prayers and our hearts. It is easy, perhaps natural, to pray for those we love—our brothers and sisters in the faith, our families, our friends. But what about those who don’t know even God? What about those who reject Him, or those who have wronged us? We are called to pray for them too.
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When we were children, most of us dreaded taking medicine. Depending on what it was, it was often bitter, and we didn’t understand why it was necessary. Yet, our parents insisted because they knew it was for our good, even when we didn’t see it.

As an adult in my 80s, I now face a different kind of medicine—spiritual medicine. Christ’s teachings are this medicine. At times, they might be hard to swallow, challenging my pride, my desires, and the comforts I’ve grown accustomed to over the years. His words call me to humility, forgiveness, and a life of self-denial, which can often feel as difficult as any physical burden I’ve carried. Yet, just like the medicine I once resisted as a child, His teachings heal me, restore me, and make me whole. They go deeper than any earthly remedy ever could, reaching the heart, mind, and soul. In these later years, I’ve come to realize that this spiritual medicine is exactly what I need to sustain me, not just for the moment, but for eternity. Though His path may challenge me, I now trust that Christ’s teachings, even when difficult, are always for my ultimate good, shaping me into the person He created me to be.

We can’t ignore this spiritual medicine. Just as our bodies need healing, so do our souls. Christ, the Great Physician, offers us the remedy in His Gospel. Let us accept it, trusting that what may seem hard at first is ultimately for our eternal good.