Tag: Spirituality

Spirituality, Travel, Writing

José Luis Iriberri, SJ

Christine Eberle

Part of the Thankful Thursday Series

The route that Ignatius took from Loyola to Manresa has existed for 502 years now, but the Ignatian Camino in its present form would not exist without the extraordinary commitment of Fr. José Luis Iriberri, Director of the Office of the Ignatian Camino. In addition to organizing and physically leading trips spring through fall each year, he has co-authored (with Chris Lowney) two Camino books:  On the Ignatian Way and Guide to the Ignatian Camino. And now, you can see him for yourself—along with many of the places featured in my book—in a 90-minute YouTube documentary that premiered this summer!

Fr. José, on the Way!

A quick word search of my manuscript reveals that I mention him more than 150 times in 187 pages; clearly, he was an integral part of the experience!  Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 43: “In Praise of Our Fearless Leader.”

Perhaps the shortest and most accurate thing I can say about José Luis Iriberri, SJ, is that he is a true son of Ignatius. (He even looks like the saint, being of Basque descent and cultivating a bit of an Ignatian beard!) He is intimately familiar with the path Iñigo traversed, pointing out churches where he worshipped, buildings where he conducted business, and hostels where he might have stayed.

It is one thing to know about Ignatius, however, and quite another to know Ignatius and to model one’s life after him. That is the experience of traveling with this man: the sense of being in the company of one of Ignatius’s close companions as he guided us through both the outer and inner landscape of the Camino. He was our spiritual guide, in every sense of the term.

Backpack on, walking stick in hand, he moved like a mountain goat, lightly, over any kind of terrain, knowing every twist and turn of those hundreds of miles—most of which he had marked by hand. But he also knew the contours of our hearts, watching us carefully, listening closely to what we said and didn’t say, reading our faces, and offering sage observations. He knew when to encourage a flagging pilgrim, when to offer a bit of respite, when to break the tension with a droll remark, and when to put his foot down if someone’s ambitions exceeded their abilities. Though he could grow exasperated with our ridiculousness, he was completely attentive and caring the moment someone manifested a genuine need.

José’s helpfulness has continued since our return. When the first draft of my manuscript was complete, I sent it to him for fact-checking.  Just a few days later, I received the electronic document back, marked up in red ink in his own hand.  He caught many errors—from place names I’d gotten wrong to bits of Spanish history I’d misunderstood—which I gratefully corrected. (He also inserted comments like “Oh I don’t think I said that” and “the walk didn’t really take that long,” which I took under advisement.)  He’s even helped with the audiobook: when I discovered a bunch of words in Euskara and Catalan that I wasn’t sure how to pronounce, I sent him a list and he read it into a voice memo for me! The book is so much better for his attentive care, as I was better for his attentive care along the Way. 

The book is so much better for his attentive care, as I was better for his attentive care along the Way.

He also shared these kind words:  Christine catches the spirit of the pilgrimage, living the full experience in her own body and soul and bringing an open mind to both the obstacles and wonders that pilgrims may encounter along the Way. This book will help you to understand the gifts that you would find walking freely in Spain, following the steps of Saint Ignatius of Loyola, a saint who lived five hundred years ago but experienced a transformation that is most needed in our twenty-first century.

For this walking example of loving God with one’s whole heart, soul, mind, and strength, I am truly grateful.

NYC Skyline
Retreats, Spirituality, Writing

Jennifer Sawyer

Christine Eberle

Part of the Thankful Thursday Series

Jennifer Sawyer is my road not taken.  

When I was a sophomore in high school, I attended forensics nationals in NYC and fell in love with the place. I began dreaming of going to Fordham, whose Lincoln Center campus had hosted some of the events. After four years as a communications major in the Big Apple, I figured, I’d snag a job as an editor and pursue my own writing after hours.

NYC Skyline

All it took to derail that dream was my mother’s discovery that the Fordham campus where I’d be living and studying was in the Bronx. (Cue scary music.) Whatever she was picturing there did not include her only daughter. Mom put her foot down, and I followed a different path.

Jen Sawyer headshot

Two decades later, a Massachusetts gal had a similar dream—and a more accommodating mother. Jen Sawyer is a Fordham alum holding a degree in communication with a concentration in American Catholic studies. After graduation, she deployed her storytelling talents in some fascinating venues, working for “The Martha Stewart Show,” and “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire,” as well as the Cooking Channel and Yahoo. As a freelance writer, she has contributed to “Good Morning America,” Metro, the NY Post, Fordham Magazine, America, and more. She and her husband lived the dream in a tiny apartment in New York before finding a home in New Jersey, where they now live with their 2-year-old daughter, Nora.

Thanks to Jen’s Jesuit education, one question pursued her through the whirlwind of writing, editing, and producing: “Am I doing the most good that I can in my job?” That question led her to combine her skills and passions at Busted Halo, an online platform that presents “a more joyful and meaningful experience of Catholicism” through articles, videos, podcasts, radio, and more. She began as Digital Content Producer; by the time we met in Jonathan Malesic’s spiritual nonfiction class, she was Editor-in-Chief.

One question pursued her through the whirlwind of writing, editing, and producing: “Am I doing the most good that I can in my job?” 

As the culminating exercise of the class, we had to pitch an article. I crafted a pitch for Busted Halo, then actually pitched it. Jen and I bounced some ideas around. I wrote the piece. She made it better. In December, BH published “This Advent, Let’s Pray with Our Foremothers in the Faith.” Throughout the process, Jen was a delight to work with. Half a year later, she and I had the joy of participating in the Ignatian Creators Summit together, along with Jon Malesic and several other members of the class.

I so enjoyed getting to know Jen personally in the “temporary alternative space” that the good folks at the Jesuit Media Lab created for us. From taking risks in small-group sharing to swapping stories on the bus ride home from Camden Yards (Let’s go, O’s!), we were at ease in one another’s company. Jen has a great smile. She’s funny, friendly, and fully engaged in the work of helping others connect life and faith in meaningful ways. The world is lucky to have her.

Here’s what she had to say about Finding God Along the Way: Readers don’t have to trek 300 miles across Spain to appreciate the wisdom gleaned from Christine Eberle’s time walking in the footsteps of St. Ignatius of Loyola. With profound insight, vulnerability, and humor, Eberle invites readers to journey alongside her as she reflects on the modern-day relevance of Ignatius’ life and teachings. “Finding God Along the Way” is a must-read for those curious about Ignatian Spirituality and its capability—like pilgrimage—to transform our hearts, our minds, and our perspectives.

For the opportunity to cross paths with the road not taken—and to admire it wholeheartedly yet without regret—I am truly grateful.

Picture of a Goat
Book Tour, Retreats, Spirituality, Travel, Writing

Sneak Peek: So Many Goats!

Christine Eberle

As I’ve been playing “what-were-we-doing-two-years-ago” all month, so many profound and silly memories have surfaced. Here’s one of the latter, told as part of Chapter Forty, “La Cova.” It takes place on the evening of October 30—the day after what we thought had been our final hike, from Montserrat to Manresa. Enjoy!

At three-thirty that afternoon, Fr. José told us, we were to meet in the garden to walk to Mass at Our Lady of Good Health. We should be sure to wear our boots, he added, and bring our hiking poles. Oh, good grief, I thought. How are we not done with those? And why are we hiking to Mass when there are more chapels than I can count right here in our residence?

The hour’s walk took us through the old town and surrounding commercial district, then onto a rocky path through the fields beyond. I will confess, I was grumpy.

My mood lightened when I discovered that we’d be sharing the road with goats. In the field beside us strode an actual goatherd—wearing sandals, carrying a crook, and accompanied by a frisky dog. (A twenty-first-century goatherd, he was also wearing jeans and a camo baseball cap, but still, it was pretty cool.) Close on his heels were at least fifty goats of varying colors and sizes, each sporting a noisy bell. As we hustled forward, the goats followed, kicking up a cloud of dust behind us until our ways diverged.

The surreal goat encounter banished what was left of my petulance. And, of course, the walk was worth it. Santa Maria de la Salut is a tenth-century hermitage. Preserved in the entryway is a rectangular slab identified (in Catalan, English, and French) as “the stone where Saint Ignatius knelt down on his visits to this sanctuary.”

How is it that a hunk of rock touched by Ignatius’ knees has been preserved for five hundred years? Fr. José explained that the ordinary people of Manresa kept Ignatius’s memory alive, realizing that they had been in the presence of a holy man. According to Tellechea Idígoras’s biography, when the saint’s canonization process was opened in 1594—seventy-two years after his sojourn in Manresa—many testified to the lasting impression Ignatius had made on them or on their parents and grandparents. Perhaps that’s why he continues to feel so present in this place.

As daylight was no longer being saved, the sun had dipped below the horizon already by the time we finished Mass. We started back at a good pace, hoping to reach the paved roads before dark; nevertheless, we had to navigate the treacherous end of the rocky path by flashlight. At last, we reached the bright Burger King and KFC signs on the outskirts of the city—a sharp contrast to the millennium-old hermitage and timeless goatherd. Like many of the towns we visited, Manresa is a place where the past and present coexist.

After dinner, we gathered for our final reflection . . .

Coming January 14, 2025 from Paraclete Press
Spirituality, Writing

Jonathan Malesic

Christine Eberle

Part of the Thankful Thursday Series

In the spring of 2023, the Jesuit Media Lab advertised an eight-week online class for writers of spiritual nonfiction. (Did you even know that was a genre? I didn’t . . . and it’s my genre!) The class would be held in June and July, right smack up against my personally imposed August 1st manuscript deadline. How could I resist?

The teacher was Jonathan Malesic, an award-winning author with a PhD in religious studies; he was the perfect person to lead this (arguably niche) class. Jon is a prolific essayist, writing about the ethical and spiritual challenge of living a good life in America today. He is the author of The End of Burnout: Why Work Drains Us and How to Build Better Lives. In addition to his workshops, he teaches first-year writing at Southern Methodist University.

Jonathan Malesic
Photo by Sarah Wall

Each week, he gave us solid content, interesting readings, and short but challenging writing assignments. He critiqued our work but also structured the class so we could shape and encourage one another’s writing. The first chapter of my new book is much tighter and more colorful than it might have been, thanks the workshopping it received there.

At one point, Jon gave me the nicest compliment—and I’ll bet he doesn’t even remember it.  We were talking about influences, and I mentioned that I’ve learned to be careful about what I’m reading when writing intensively, because I tend to absorb the tone of whatever I’m taking in.  Jon responded, “Well then, you must be reading a lot of poetry.” (Aww. I was reading a lot of Ann Patchett, but I do love rising to the challenge of a word limit!)

One of the unexpected benefits of the spiritual nonfiction class is that it connected me to other writers with similar passions—connections that have continued out in the real world. (You’ll meet one of those people next week.) Several classmates participated in this year’s Ignatian Creators Summit—including Jon himself.  What a joy to meet in person!

One of the unexpected benefits of the spiritual nonfiction class is that it connected me to other writers with similar passions—connections that have continued out in the real world. 

After learning so much in his class, I was moved by Jon’s endorsement of Finding God Along the Way: Christine Eberle is not only an experienced, funny, and wise spiritual guide. She’s also a great storyteller. In the vivid episodes of this book, she takes readers through stunning Spanish landscapes, hostels, communal meals, and masses and invites us to reflect on our own pilgrimages, including the ones we undertake in our ordinary lives. The rhythm of this book — action, reflection, action, reflection — is the heart of pilgrimage and of Ignatian spirituality itself. Eberle may be sometimes slow of step along the journey she narrates here, but her quick mind and generous heart make her an ideal companion on the Ignatian Camino and the spiritual life it represents.

For the gift of lifelong learning, I am truly grateful.

Cover image by M. from Pixabay

Spirituality, Travel, Writing

Sneak Peek: The Power of the Pause

Christine Eberle

This morning, I received a WhatsApp message from one of my pilgrim friends, who has returned to Spain with her husband and is spending a few days in Zaragoza. On Bette’s vacation, the city is a beautiful place to explore for a few days between San Sebastian and Barcelona. On my pilgrimage, it was the blessed oasis where Porter and I ground to a halt, nursing our blistered feet and his sudden fever.

A peek at the calendar revealed that I was in Zaragoza exactly two years ago this weekend. What more excuse do I need to share an excerpt of Finding God Along the Way with you? This is from Chapter 25, “Pausing.” It picks up in Tudela, after Fr. José doctored Porter’s and my disastrous feet, shook his head, and gave us directions to the train station.

Sunrise over the Basilica of Nuestra Señora del Pilar in Zaragoza

There’s an old tale in which Himalayan sherpas (or, in another version, African tribesmen) are hired by a group of American trekkers to transport their supplies. After a few days of walking fast and far, the locals sit down and refuse to move for several hours—waiting, it’s explained, for their souls to catch up with their bodies. Although I didn’t have the liberty of such on-the-spot refusal along the Camino, I did come to appreciate the power of the pause.

My longest was the three days I spent in the city of Zaragoza. On a Monday morning, Porter and I caught the train from Tudela, ensconced ourselves in a café so I could write for a while, then walked slowly to the Hotel Sauce. Doing our best to approach this wide-open day with wide-open spirits, we lingered wherever we saw something interesting. We stopped in a hardware store for a carabiner to secure the straps of Porter’s old suitcase and visited a department store—El Corte Inglés—to invest in new hiking socks. That brief stroll recalled us to ourselves, reminding us how much we enjoy exploring a new city. It also helped us see beyond our transitory struggles, anchoring us in the surpassing goodness of our life together.

Despite our having a free day on Tuesday, by Wednesday morning my feet were still awful, and Porter was feverish—felled by the slow-moving stomach virus that had been making its way through the group. We would have to linger in Zaragoza for one more day. Our hotel room had a bathtub with a broad ledge at one end, allowing me to indulge in two refreshing pastimes while Porter slept: soaking my feet and perusing the New Yorker magazine I’d optimistically chucked in my suitcase.

Late [the next] afternoon, I made a long, solo visit to the Basilica of Nuestra Señora del Pilar—Our Lady of the Pillar—whose origins were the stuff of legend. When St. James began evangelizing the Iberian peninsula in the first century, the story goes (preaching the Gospel “to the ends of the earth”), he almost despaired of bringing the Christian faith to that pagan land. One day, while he was deep in prayer along the banks of the Ebro River, the Blessed Mother appeared to him atop a rosy pillar, encouraging him not to forsake his mission.

Despite COVID restrictions, visitors still can touch a bit of the titular pillar.

Today, the cavernous interior of the Basilica houses an intimate chapel where a tiny Mary statue sits atop a pillar of pink jasper. Even though the Basilica felt cold and empty, the chapel was warm with the devotion of many visitors; I was lucky to witness a weekly ceremony where children receive a special blessing and get their picture taken with the statue. Pausing in prayer, I felt something shift in me; heading back to the hotel, I realized that I was walking much more easily. Like the apostle James in that same place almost two millennia ago, I felt a renewed hopefulness and a readiness to rejoin my friends on the road the next morning.

Though the three-day break in Zaragoza was a great blessing, pauses did not need to be long to be restorative. On our steepest climbs, when the grade was fierce, I allowed myself to stop for a few deep breaths every ten steps. Count to ten; stop and breathe. Count to ten; stop and breathe. In addition to getting much-needed oxygen to my lungs and leg muscles, this strategy kept hope in view. I knew that in seven . . . five . . . three more steps, I could take a brief, blissful pause, until the terrain grew merciful, and I could press on without stopping.

The most delightful pauses arrived unexpectedly. Occasionally, as we walked through the woods, a clearing would open and—voilà—a café where we could grab a quick cortado and use real restrooms. Fr. José never told us they were coming. This was consistent with his desire to keep us in the present moment, though I suspect he also relished being able offer us a pleasant surprise. Those periodic oases of rest lasted just long enough to refill my well of gratitude before starting out again.

Perhaps my insight here seems obvious. Take a break; do you really need me to tell you this? But maybe you do; maybe, like me, you tend to soldier on. Maybe you never take a sick day (or didn’t, until COVID made bringing your germs to work seem less heroic). Maybe you wouldn’t dream of closing your eyes for five minutes after lunch. Maybe you stare at the Sunday crossword puzzle long after your brain has stopped generating solutions, or routinely accept diminishing returns for your labor in exchange for the ego boost you get from thinking of yourself as a person who “never quits.”

So, in case you do need to hear it, I’ll say it again: There is power in the pause. Whether for a moment or an hour, a day or a week, a well-timed pause can reconnect us to ourselves, giving us fresh energy and perspective. More importantly, the pause can reconnect us to God—inventor of the Sabbath, after all—for whom accomplishment is never everything.

You know who knew this? Jesus. He routinely slipped away from a life of preaching and miracle-working to pause, pray, and recharge. “Come to me, all who labor and find life burdensome, and I will give you rest,” he said—not “and I’ll give you more to do!” Holy pausing is not about taking the easy way out or shirking our share of life’s burdens. It’s about acknowledging our utter dependence on God, who alone provides strength for the journey.

Cover image by Alexander Gresbek from Pixabay

A red cardinal in a tree in winter
Grief, Retreats, Spirituality, Writing

Paula D’Arcy

Christine Eberle

Part of the Thankful Thursday Series

“Wait, you know Paula D’Arcy?” I’ve loved Paula’s writing for decades; my Camino buddy Jane Lafave might as well have told me she’d been hanging out in Ann Patchett’s kitchen! Jane explained that she’d known the author for many years, since going on a pilgrimage she led to Notre Dame (Paris) as part of her grief ministry.

Paula D’Arcy

The ability to write or speak authentically about loss is hard earned, and Paula D’Arcy paid a terrible entrance price to the world of grief ministers. When she was a young mother, pregnant with her second child, her family was struck by a drunk driver. She awoke in the hospital, alone except for the child in her womb. Her beloved husband and twenty-one-month-old daughter were gone.

That she built a beautiful life in the wake of such tragedy is a testimony to the power of resurrection. I first encountered the story in her 2004 book Sacred Threshold: Crossing the Inner Barrier to a Deeper Love. When my mother died a few years later, I clung to D’Arcy’s next book, When People Grieve. It is full of sanity-saving wisdom and practical advice about the physical, mental, and emotional aftermath of a profound loss. I owe much of my patience with the slow course of grief to her gentle guidance.

D’Arcy’s devastating accident was almost fifty years ago. What defines her life now is not the tragedy, but her consequent commitment to helping others keep the doors of their hearts propped open, even in the midst of grief. She is the founder of the Red Bird Foundation, whose mission is to assist others in the transformation of pain and the restoration of hope.

What defines her life is not the tragedy, but her consequent commitment to helping others keep the doors of their hearts propped open . . .”

I am thrilled to announce that Paula soon will be offering a retreat via Zoom through the SSJ Center for Spirituality in Ocean Grove, NJ. Mark your calendars for Thursday, February 13 from 6-8 p.m. for “Beauty Beyond Loss: Finding Your Way Through the Mystery of Grief and Gratitude.” I just signed up; you can learn more and register here.

Knowing that pilgrimage has been a meaningful part of Paula D’Arcy’s life, I asked my friend Jane if she could reach out to her on my behalf. Paula read my manuscript, then swiftly responded with these lovely words: Finding God Along the Way is equal parts adventure and strong spiritual experience; I felt like I was being given a private retreat as I read along. In this beautifully written book, Eberle encourages readers to risk what it means to step into the unknown each day, putting the Camino experience within every person’s reach.

According to the Talmud, every blade of grass has an angel bending over it, whispering “Grow, grow, grow!” For every angel on earth who whispers hope into the hearts of grieving people, I am truly grateful.

Liturgy, Scripture, Spirituality, Writing

Imagining the Gospel: A Reflection on Mark 10

Christine Eberle

This is the longest lead-time I’ve ever had on an assignment.

At the August 2023 Ignatian Creators Summit, participants volunteered to write imaginative encounters with Gospel texts for the coming liturgical year; the 28th Sunday of Ordinary Time (October 13) fell to me. I began thinking about it immediately, and even posted a mid-point “work in progress” blog (including a homemade sonnet) when Mark 10:17-30 popped up as a daily Mass reading in May.

Here at last is the “final” product. (Scare quotes only because no wrestling with this challenging reading is ever the last word.)

Enjoy!

Imagining the Gospel: The Rich Man’s Question
Scripture, Spirituality, Writing

Cameron Bellm

Christine Eberle

Part of the Thankful Thursday Series

I met Cameron in the summer of 2023 at my first Ignatian Creators Summit (a truly cool undertaking of the Jesuit Media Lab). I was a nervous newcomer, but she quickly put me at ease with her welcoming spirit, quirky sense of humor, and undergraduate major even less practical than my own: Russian Literature!

Cameron Bellm: Attention and Astonishment

In classic Ignatian fashion, Cameron describes herself as a contemplative in action. She’s a writer and speaker based in Seattle, where she and her husband are raising two cutie-pie little boys. In 2020, she had the internet version of fifteen-minutes-of-fame when her Prayer for a Pandemic went viral. (Just for fun, Google that and see how many places it was shared!) Here’s the beautiful original and a 2022 follow-up, which contains my favorite line: “Above all, as we gaze upon our frayed social fabric / may we who have spare threads set to weaving.”

As we gaze upon our frayed social fabric,
may we who have spare threads set to weaving.”

Formed by both Ignatian spirituality and Catholic Social Teaching, Cameron has written several devotionals over the years. She is now hard at work wrapping up the manuscript of a book that will be published by Eerdmans in 2025:  The Sacrament of Paying Attention: Contemplative Practices for Restoring Sacred Human Communion.  She publishes a short weekly missive on Substack called “Attention and Astonishment,” which always includes thought-provoking nuggets. (The title is a shout-out to a line from “Sometimes” by Mary Oliver):

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.

Indeed, Cameron’s attention to—and ability to be astonished by—both the big and little things in life is one of her many endearing / enduring qualities.

Here’s what she said about Finding God Along the Way:  “What a delight it is to journey along the Ignatian Camino with Christine Eberle as our wise and thoughtful guide! Scripture, story, and Ignatian principles are woven together in a meditative and inspiring guide not only for those making a literal pilgrimage, but for all of us who lace up our shoes each morning to walk through the holy and challenging terrain of our own lives.”

For people you can see once a year for forty-eight hours yet still rejoice like Elizabeth greeting Mary the next time you meet, I am truly grateful!

Spirituality, Travel, Writing

Katie (Haseltine) Mullin

Christine Eberle

Part of the Thankful Thursday Series

During my pilgrimage, one of the practices that sustained me was the Ignatian daily Examen. Even though Ignatius said the prayer should take no longer than fifteen minutes, on the Camino I sometimes devoted up to an hour, wringing every drop of grace from the previous day. Walking through the steps of gratitude, light, rumination, contrition, and hope each morning helped me view my experience through a spiritual lens instead of getting stuck on the physical level. Therefore, when it came time to seek endorsements, Katie (Haseltine) Mullin was at the top of my list of “ambitious asks.” I didn’t know her personally, but had loved her book, All The Things: A 30-Day Guide to Experiencing God’s Presence in the Prayer of Examen. 

Katie came to the Examen as an outsider—an evangelical Christian who found “breathing room” in a Protestant liturgical church where she began receiving spiritual direction, eventually becoming a spiritual director herself. This renders her writing direct and accessible. She’s not parroting insider terminology as someone who grew up in the Jesuit soup might do. Instead, she serves as a translator—a teacher of “Ignatian for Speakers of Other Spiritualities.” As she approaches the Examen from thirty different starting points, she is beautifully clear: this prayer is not a hurdle to be cleared or a set of boxes to be checked, but a golden opportunity to draw close to the God who loves us by rummaging backwards through our days together. Each chapter includes a personal, practical example of how using a particular angle of approach led her to notice something she might otherwise have missed, and thus to grow in friendship with God.

This prayer is not a hurdle to be cleared or a set of boxes to be checked, but a golden opportunity to draw close to the God who loves us by rummaging backwards through our days together.”

In addition to being a writer and spiritual director, Katie offers a variety of coaching services around both the Enneagram and self-care, all in the service of helping people live the lives they’ve been given with hope and purpose. She also works with the Center for the Formation of Justice and Peace. You can learn more about her many hats here on her website.

Katie had such lovely things to say about my book: “Christine Marie Eberle’s Finding God Along the Way felt like an unexpected, long catch up with your best friend on a Sunday afternoon. I found myself in tears as I read the beginning question, ‘Do you want to take a walk with me?’ and they came often as I read in the pages so many relatable struggles wrapped in countless encouraging words and prayers. As a lover of all things Ignatius, I imagined enjoying this book. Spiritual exercises? Yes, please. The Examen? Of course. What I didn’t count on was having my soul respond with such “serenity” (something the author herself found on the pilgrimage) to reading the familiar language and understanding of how I see God. I also I found myself challenged to pray for others on my daily walks with a deeper commitment and to notice the vulnerable in and around me. You don’t have to walk the Camino (though it remains my top bucket list item!) to go on a meaningful journey with Christine and her friends. St. Ignatius wrote in the First Principle, ‘All the things in this world are gifts from God,’ and Christine’s recollections and reflections on her pilgrimage were an incredible gift to me–one I will look back on and savor for its graces.”

As an unexpected grace, Katie and I decided that two women with a shared enthusiasm for the Examen, Ignatian spirituality, writing, and the Enneagram (we’re both Ones) might also enjoy one another.  At her initiative, we hopped on Zoom and shared a marvelous getting-to-know you hour and have stayed in touch ever since.

For the gifts of serendipitous friendship and mutual delights, I am truly grateful!

Book Tour, Spirituality, Writing

Finding God Along the Way: Coming January 14 from Paraclete Press

Christine Eberle

You may remember that I made a month-long pilgrimage in the fall of 2022 in the company of twenty-four remarkable souls inspired by the life of St. Ignatius Loyola. Finding God Along the Way: Wisdom from the Ignatian Camino for Life at Home traces our spiritual adventure from its pre-pandemic conception to the lasting transformations we experienced on the far side. Although the book might inspire future pilgrims, I wrote it for those who will make the journey only in their imagination, as the fruit of this experience should not be reserved for those with the freedom to walk away from their life for a month.

I am so grateful to the good people at Paraclete Press for their enthusiastic embrace of my book and their prayerful approach to every aspect of its production and marketing. By mid-May, I’ll have a cover image; stay tuned.

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Pub Date!

Note: We’d originally thought that the book would launch on February 25, and were excited about its being the feast day of Blessed Sebastian de Aparicio, patron saint of travelers and road builders. But we want to have it firmly in people’s hands in time for Lent, so January 14 it is. I can’ wait! (But I shall.)

To ensure that you receive the pre-order announcement for the book, make sure you are signed up for my newsletter (which I send approximately monthly).

I promise not to flood your inbox or sell your address; unsubscribe at will!

Blessings for the journey . . .
Christine

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mountains with an arrow painted on the rocks

Pictured here: one of the countless orange arrows marking the Ignatian Way!