It's 5:20 in the morning and here I sit in the silence and stillness of our friary chapel. The house is real quiet, none of the brothers stirring. Soon a symphony of chirping alarm clocks will give way to creaking floorboards and squealing shower taps. Until then I sit relishing the quiet, soaking up that certain indescribable sweetness found only before a Tabernacle.

I love being up early in the morning. Mind you, I don't like getting up in the morning. Some mornings my guardian angel abandons his usual cajoling and prodding and walks off to fetch a crowbar. His job, however, isn’t complete until he leads me like a blind man downstairs to the kitchen to greet Mr. Coffee.

Of all our friary chapels, I think I love Saint Felix’s the best. I even love the way it smells; an elusive fragrance made up of wood, candle wax, and incense. You could bottle it and make a million. Yet there’s another reason. In just a few hours, the first shafts of sun will hit the chapel’s amber windows, splashing white walls and oak pews with an unearthly golden glow. Sometimes this happens when the brothers are quietly kneeling after Holy Communion. For a few minutes I’m atop Mount Tabor with Peter, James and John before the Lord.

Many people comment on the peace, simplicity and beauty of our friaries. The word “oasis” is often used. This is not surprising and it takes a lot of work. Since we don’t own real estate, we must depend on Divine Providence to point us here and there until we find some available convent, rectory, or retreat house. Actually much of the work is not moving things in but moving things out. We like things simple and uncluttered (although you would never know from my desk). This can take weeks, generally months, of peeling, scraping and sanding. In fact, it may take a few years before the friary reaches a point where it’s “just right.”

Admittedly, the first few hours of renovation are almost fun, dumping drapery and grandma-like doilies into boxes marked “Vinny” (Saint Vincent de Paul). Plastic fruit, plaster ashtrays, kitchen clutter - out! Pulling up old carpet and tearing down cheap paneling can be therapeutic or frustrating, depending on how much glue was globbed down 25 years ago. Beds and bureaus are hauled away like war booty and stowed away in some cool dark corner of the cellar. These will in time find their way into the homes of needy neighbors. Later, air conditioners, televisions, the dishwasher and microwave are tackled - yet not without a struggle. Sometimes I wonder if the Ben-Gay people would be in business without the friars.

Nothing the friars undertake doesn’t somehow develop into a screenplay for a situation comedy. Odd objects like avocado colored Strata-loungers and desks that look like aircraft carriers, for example, rarely leave their comfortable corner without digging in their heels. Not only are some of these things older than dinosaurs, they weigh like them! Have you ever tried to coax a dinosaur down three flights of stairs? After twisting, turning and waddling such things about, creative juices rapidly begin to flow to the head. Casting common sense to the wind, out come the ropes and up goes the window. Such engineering escapades would make Laurel and Hardy green with envy. Surprisingly, many times our efforts end without a hitch, sometimes with a crash - then uncontrollable laughter.

The time and energy spent in simplifying our life is not fueled by a certain fear of modernity or a romantic hearkening to bygone days. Neither is it tainted with a Calvinistic suspect of sin lurking in artistic beauty, comfort, or convenience, nor in a desire to be different. Rather it is born of both knowledge and experience which helps us determine the subtle difference between what is helpful or harmful. It is the fruit of reflection and discussion concerning personal wants and communal needs. It is all about not choosing what is good, but what is best, and not for myself, but for everyone. Our Savior teaches us, "Where your treasure is, there also will your heart be" (Mt 6:21). The questions we all must ask ourselves are: “What do I really treasure in life?”, “What is really most important to me?” and “What am I willing to sacrifice or suffer through to possess this treasure?"

Some think it odd that the friars and sisters don’t have a television. Why? Because it is for us an obstacle to attaining our treasure; namely, holiness. This is not possible without prayer, recollection, and study. We know what you, clergy and laity, want from us religious - a witness to a holy and unworldly way of life. Is this found in hours before the television or tabernacle? Not only is television time consuming, but it disrupts family life, displaces conversation, and often promotes worldly values. Life itself is interesting and entertaining, but you’ll miss it if you’re staring at a screen. No wonder children experience so much loneliness and boredom and pain. Nintendos and Gameboys have no ears to listen, lips to counsel, arms to embrace or shoulder to cry on.

Do you know where the friar’s entertainment and information center is located? Step into our refectory. You call it a dining room. There, in the center of a room decorated in early Amish, stands a wooden table. Here the friars take their meals and often have their meetings. If the chapel is the heart of our home, the refectory is its lungs. Here life is given, spirits resuscitated, health restored. How many times I’ve shuffled my sandaled feet to that table and walked away with a spring in my step. On those dark days when I feel overworked and unappreciated, everything in me wants to steal away and snuggle up in a little cave and cry. But before I know it, I’m distracted by some interesting piece of news, caught up into an engaging discussion, or laughing at the antics of one of the brothers. Festive occasions utterly crush any attempt to hide within myself and nurse secret wounds. That’s when the brothers pull out the guitars, sing, eat ice cream, and bring out my Uncle Joe’s homemade red wine. Even after the final prayer, the conversation and kibitzing isn’t over as everyone pitches in to wash and dry pots and plates.

As we enter into this new year, this new millennium, wouldn’t it be the perfect time to take stock of ourselves and our lives? To examine our priorities and our pace? Can we admit that many of our problems are due to misplaced values and wrong choices? Modern technology enables us to be immediately in touch with others, but can also distance us from others and even ourselves. Should we not remove from our homes and hearts those things which have the power not only to distract us, but even destroy us? If only we created times and places for communion, we would have less confusion. Instead of reacting to life, we might respond. Instead of escaping pain and problems, we would courageously enter into them and come out all the better for it. Grandma and Grandpa had fewer material possessions and opportunities, yet they were much richer than we. They had little, but in many ways had more than we. Their treasure? Family, friends, and most especially, faith!

So friends, do yourself and your family a favor this new year, be determined to turn your house into a home. Throw a towel over your TV and crown it with a potted plant. Get rid of what you really don’t need. Perhaps in your efforts you might stumble across an unopened book or your old Monopoly board. Then lock the dishwasher door and buy a bottle of Lux liquid, so you can think and look out the back window. Take the phone off the hook one day a week and bake some bread; better yet, read your Bible. Leave your headphones and cell phone home and take a walk.

Finally, take a tip from me - strike a deal with your guardian angel, wake up before the world, tip-toe to your secret place of prayer, your little “chapel”- and then, shrouded in the shadows, light a candle. Although you’ll have no special scent or golden glow, Jesus will be there, and in His sweet Presence, count your blessings and consider your wealth. Ah! Home sweet home!