Author: Christine Eberle

Christine Marie Eberle passionately connects Scripture, spirituality, and everyday life. She is the author of two books of daily meditations in the Ignatian tradition: Finding God in Ordinary Time and Finding God Abiding. After a 26-year career as a college campus minister, in 2019 Christine ended her tenure as Director of Campus Ministry at Gwynedd Mercy University to commit to a full-time ministry of writing, speaking, and retreat facilitation. She resides outside Philadelphia, where she serves on the regional advisory council of the Ignatian Volunteer Corps and cantors for her parish, St. Vincent DePaul in Germantown.
Scripture, Spirituality, Writing

Fear Locks the door

Christine Eberle

When the Catholic Preaching Institute asked me to write 300 words “From the Pew” for Pentecost, I knew exactly what I wanted to write about!

You can see the Gospel and the “From the Pulpit” commentary, along with my reflection, here on the St. Charles Borromeo Seminary website. This is what I wrote:

From the Pew: June 8, 2025
Pentecost Sunday (John 20:19-23)

When I was in my thirties, my mother and I had a running disagreement about whether she should lock her screen door at bedtime. “The only person a locked screen door keeps out is a relative with a key!” I would insist—usually after spending way too long trying to get my parents’ attention on a Saturday morning before cell phones. But Mom could not be dissuaded. Although the home was secured by a lock and a German shepherd, flipping that little latch gave her a bit more peace.

One can’t blame the disciples for bolting the door after Jesus’ execution; as his followers, they were understandably terrified. And yet, just as Mom’s screen door was vulnerable to any two-bit burglar with a box cutter, the disciples’ barricade was not going to thwart anyone truly bent on doing them harm. Nor was it an obstacle for Jesus, who appeared in their midst and offered them peace.

But note what Jesus did not offer them: safety.  He didn’t say, “You don’t have anything to be afraid of,” or “Nothing bad will ever happen to you.”  Indeed, he did the opposite: showed them the brutal evidence of his crucifixion, then sent them forth as the Father had sent him. And we know that they went on to suffer for their faith, often meeting violent ends.

The fears that keep me up at night cannot be put to rest by even the strongest lock. Everyone I love will die—unless I beat them to it, which may also be no picnic. Untold hardships await us all. Fortunately, the peace Jesus bestows is not dependent on untroubled circumstances, but on our embrace of his Spirit’s abiding presence.

Fear locks the door, but Jesus walks right in. Will we accept peace on his terms?

Spirituality, Writing

Habemus Papam!

Christine Eberle

Where were you when Pope Leo XIV was elected? How did you react? Busted Halo solicited a group of writers to answer that question in 300 words or less. Loving a tight word limit, here’s what I wrote:

“I assumed you were dead,” my brother said. What other explanation could there be for my silence following his 12:12 text (White Smoke!) and 1:16 follow-up (American Augustinian! Villanova grad!)?

Blame it on the weather. After five drizzly days in Maine — where my husband and I had come to ready our summer cottage for the season — the sun appeared and we plunged into garden cleanup, sans phones. I remember glancing at the Catholic church across the harbor, thinking, “If we get a new pope, I wonder if they’ll ring the bells?” (Apparently not.)

At 1:50, I wandered inside and discovered my blown-up phone. Calling my brother — a graduate of (then) Augustinian-run Msgr. Bonner High School outside Philadelphia — I got an earful about Pope Leo XIII and Catholic Social Teaching. Too much too soon! Where was the time machine that would whisk me back 98 minutes to watch the announcement in real time?

Oh, there it was, sitting on the kitchen table. I opened my laptop, pulled up YouTube, and watched David Muir and Fr. James Martin receive and react to the astounding news.

Since then, I’ve been riveted by a litany of personal connections to the new pontiff. My mother taught theology at Bonner for 25 years; there’s a photo of Fr. Prevost visiting during her tenure, which means Mom (now gone to God) probably met the pope. In college, he worked as a groundskeeper at the cemetery where my grandparents are buried. A friend at Merrimack met him several times. And don’t get me started on people from Chicago!

In Cherished Belonging, Fr. Greg Boyle writes about God as Meister Eckhart’s “Wild One.” Rather than simply trying to get butts in pews, Boyle insists, “this wild, astonishing God may have more spacious plans for us.” 

I’m fastening my seatbelt.

You can read the rest of the essays here:
Part I: Allison Bobzien, Fr. Evan Cummings, Laura Yeager, and Jennifer Sawyer
Part II: Allison Beyer, Eric Clayton, Nora Kavanagh, Catherine Anne Sullivan, and John Dougherty

Uncategorized

#BucketList

Christine Eberle

“Have one of my books reviewed in America Magazine” was something I didn’t even know was on the professional bucket list until it became a possibility.

Several months ago, a friend who occasionally writes for America asked them if she could contribute a review of Finding God Along the Way, only to learn that it had been assigned already—to a stranger! (By which I mean, one of their regular contributors, with whom I happen to be unfamiliar.)

Cue the nail-biting. What would someone who didn’t already know me—who didn’t already like me—have to say about my writing? I’ve seen even bestselling books by well-known authors get taken down a notch by America reviewers. Would this one feel compelled to toss in a few critical observations just to prove her own writerly bona fides?

And when would it appear? I eagerly checked January’s issue (publication month) and February’s (which included IVC’s impressive annual Impact Report—a logical connection). Perhaps it would appear in March, when I was giving so many pilgrimage-themed Lent retreats? When April and May slid by as well, I stopped thinking about it. Maybe the fact that my book was assigned a reviewer was no guarantee said review would appear in print.

Then out of the blue on Friday morning, a text from Lexa Hall, my wonderful marketing contact at Paraclete Press: Did you see the review? Check your email!

Was I thrilled or crushed? Click the image below to read for yourself!

Recognizing Our Lives as Pilgrimages: A Review by Kristy Savage

Grief, Scripture, Spirituality

What Day Is It?

Christine Eberle

Every time I walk into church and spot my friend Jamey Moses, I can count on him to ask me the same question: What day is it? No matter if it’s Saturday, Sunday, or a random weekday, I always reply, This is the day the Lord has made!

At Easter Mass yesterday, I sang Psalm 118: This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad! And this morning, like the rest of you, I woke up to the heartbreaking news that Pope Francis has gone home to God.

Not feeling very Eastery anymore, I must confess.

And yet. And yet and yet and yet.

The paschal mystery is no respecter of human or even liturgical calendars. Some people’s hearts are awash in gladness, even on Good Friday—as the vibrant music in our parish during the ecumenical Seven Last Words service demonstrated. For others, the “descent into hell” lasts much longer than three days. As Caedemon’s Call sings in their beautiful Valleys Fill First, “It’s like that long Saturday between Your death and the rising day, when no one wrote a word, wondering is this the end.”

In what now appears prescient, my friend Ann Garrido posted a reflection on Good Friday, recognizing in the crucifixion the aching sorrow of our whole world at this political moment. She suggests that, at least for a time, our best response may be silence, “acknowledging that the Word has been taken from us.” I encourage you to read her whole reflection:

THIS GOOD FRIDAY | Ann Garrido

As I try to get my mind and soul around the reality of a world without Pope Francis, I’m praying with his Easter message from yesterday—literally, Francis’ final word on many subjects.

More importantly, I’m holding onto this seven-word prayer taught to him by his grandmother: “Jesus, make my heart more like yours.”

This is the day the Lord has made. Whatever day it feels like in your soul, may the blessings of Francis’ witness of life and love carry you along.

Book Tour, Pilgrimage, Spirituality, Writing

Englewood Review

Christine Eberle

This week, I was thrilled to read Catherine Anne Sullivan’s take on Finding God Along the Way in the Englewood Review of Books. Besides being positive promo, it’s going to bring my book to the attention of people well beyond the reach of my usual target-audience circles.

Catherine’s writing is gorgeous, so enjoy that for its own sake! Click on her name to explore more of her work.

Here’s the review, entitled Reflections Centering on Presence:

Christine Marie Eberle – Finding God Along the Way [Review]
Catherine Anne Sullivan

Picture of a Goat
Liturgy, Retreats, Scripture, Spirituality

Prodigal Mic Drop

Christine Eberle

The most pointed insight I ever gained into the Prodigal Son story (Luke 15:11-32) came during a retreat skit performed by a group of West Chester University Newman Center students.

I remember no context—only that they’d been put into groups and assigned parables to act out. (BTW I can’t believe I made them do this. I skipped my own college orientation because I heard there were skits!)

Truly, I remember nothing about the enactment of the Prodigal Son until right after the guy playing the older brother—scandalized by the fatted calf’s having been killed to celebrate his rascally sibling’s return—turned on his father, saying, “You never gave me so much as a kid goat to celebrate with my friends.” Christopher Jowett, the tall, ponytailed dude who was playing the father (and who surely wouldn’t mind my quoting him without permission here, because it was awesome), spun around and thundered:

“YOU NEVER ASKED ME FOR A KID GOAT!”

I’m sure the skit went on from there, but I was done. Mic drop done. Convicted done.

Here’s what I grasped, in an instant. The younger boy’s departure had been a dagger in the heart, sure. “Give me the share of your estate that should come to me” was was just a polite way of saying, “I (literally) can’t wait for you to die.” But the older one’s reaction to his brother’s reappearance? That was a knife in the back.

The one who had seemed to serve faithfully by his side was actually in it for the reward? The one about whom he could say “you are with me always, and everything I have is yours” wanted more? The one who had borne witness to the depths of his grief still did not know him well enough to share his heart’s rejoicing?

This was a stranger.

The one who had borne witness to the depths of his grief still did not know him well enough to share his heart’s rejoicing.

Over the course of our lives, we may all vacillate along the continuum from the younger brother’s “dissolute living” to the elder brother’s life of “dutiful service,” with readers of this blog probably mostly avoiding the more dissolute end. We can’t be on our high horses about that, though, because it only means that’s not where our temptation lies.

That’s not where our temptation lies.

Our temptation—should you recognize yourself among the “older brother” types—is to serve dutifully but resentfully. Keeping careful records. Believing all the things that go right in our lives are because of our hard work and responsibility. Not recognizing the four hundred things a day that go right because of happenstance, privilege, or mercy.

Each time we fail to share God’s parental distress over every lost and suffering soul, or wholeheartedly celebrate each return to grace, we are the older brother.

I suspect there’s something there to convict us all, so I’ll end simply with this beautiful poem by Rumi, which I first encountered in Marilyn Lacey RSM’s marvelous book This Flowing Toward Me: A Story of God Arriving in Strangers. May we all recognize God’s flowing toward us today.

For sixty years I have been forgetful,
every minute, but not for a second
has this flowing toward me stopped or slowed.
I deserve nothing. Today I recognize
that I am the guest the mystics talk about.
I play this living music for my host.
Everything today is for the host.

Book Tour, Pilgrimage, Spirituality, Writing

Bridges Foundation: Facebook Live

Christine Eberle

Based in St. Louis, the Bridges Foundation provides ongoing formation in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. I’m grateful to Steve Givens for this quick, fun chat about Finding God Along the Way.

And here’s Steve’s Lenten blog post, picking up where we left off!

Step by Step: The Journey of Lent  
Liturgy, Spirituality

Of Splinters and Beams

Christine Eberle

Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye,
but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own? (Luke 6:41)

Thirty years ago tonight, Fr. Sam Verruni left the sacristy at West Chester University’s Newman Center with his vestments a mess. His chasuble was crooked, the back all caught up under the belt of his alb. Utterly oblivious to his disheveled state, he processed from the sacristy to his chair, and later from his chair to the ambo to proclaim the Gospel. After the congregation seated themselves for the homily, he called me out.

You see, I’d been conspicuously distracted, absorbed with trying to undo a knot in the cord of the cross I was wearing around my neck. I hadn’t looked up for the Gospel. I hadn’t looked up as the homily began. “Christine,” Sam said sharply, “Can I interest you in paying a little attention to what’s going on around you?”

“Well, Fr. Sam,” I replied . . . “Maybe you want to straighten out those vestments of yours first?”

The congregation, who’d been frozen in horror at Sam’s totally uncharacteristic meanness, burst out laughing. We took a little bow. I fixed his vestments, and he went on to preach about the Splinter and the Beam. I don’t remember what he said about the human tendency to harp on the faults of others while blithely ignoring our own. He probably doesn’t either.

But I’ll bet many people there that night remember Sam’s wonky vestments, and the homily he preached without words.

To read the Gospel passage in context, click the image above.

Book Tour, Pilgrimage, Spirituality, Writing

I Wanted to Write the Book: A Conversation with Ben Tanzer

Christine Eberle

Ben was the publicist for my first two books, so we’ve been chatting about writing, passion projects, evolving career paths, and life/work balance for more than seven years now. I’m delighted to call him a friend.

Every time one of my books enters the world, Ben celebrates by hosting me on “This Podcast Will Change Your Life.” In 2018 he titled our conversation The Power of Stories; in 2022, it was A Whole Life.

Dip into our latest delightfully meandering conversation—aptly titled I Wanted to Write the Book—and see if the third time really is the charm.

Ben Tanzer: Teacher | Storyteller | Coach | Podcaster | Principal, HEFT Creative Strategies | Lover of All Things Book, Run, Gin & Street Art
Book Tour, Pilgrimage, Spirituality, Travel, Writing

Pilgrim’s Progress

Christine Eberle

I’m grateful to my Jesuit Media Lab friend Alli Bobzien for pitching and writing this beautiful review of Finding God Along the Way, which just posted in Today’s American Catholic. I’ve never had a book reviewed before! Two others may be pending, but props to Alli for being first across the finish line.

You can read more of her wonderful writing at The Pondering Heart.

Waysign glimpsed along our lengthy trek from Montserrat to Manresa