Light in
the
Darkness
Light in
the
Darkness
The Teachings of Father James Keller, M.M., and The Christophers
Presented by
Father Jonathan Morris
Our Sunday Visitor Publishing Division
Our Sunday Visitor, Inc.
Huntington, Indiana 46750
Scripture texts are taken from the New American Bible, revised edition © 2010, 1991, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Washington, D.C., and are used by permission of the copyright owner. All rights reserved. No part of the New American Bible may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
All rights reserved. With the exception of short excerpts for critical reviews, no part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without permission in writing from the rights holder.
Every reasonable effort has been made to determine copyright holders of excerpted materials and to secure permissions as needed. If any copyrighted materials have been inadvertently used in this work without proper credit being given in one form or another, please notify Our Sunday Visitor in writing so that future printings of this work may be corrected accordingly.
The selections from the writings of Father James Keller, M.M., were taken from:
1. Three Minutes a Day. Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company, copyright © 1949 by The Christophers, Inc.
2. A Day at a Time. Garden City, NY: Hanover House, copyright © 1957 by The Christophers, Inc.
3. Three Minutes a Day, Vol. 3. New York, NY: The Guild Press, Publishers, copyright © 1960 by The Christophers, Inc.
For permissions regarding Father Keller’s writings, contact: The Christophers, Inc.,
5 Hanover Square, 22nd Floor, New York, NY 10004; 1-212-759-4050;
The Introduction and introductions to each chapter, copyright © 2014 by Father Jonathan Morris.
19 18 17 16 15 2 3 4 5 6 7
For permissions regarding the introductions, visit: www.osv.com/permissions.
Our Sunday Visitor Publishing Division, Our Sunday Visitor, Inc., 200 Noll Plaza, Huntington, IN 46750; 1-800-348-2440.
ISBN: 978-1-61278-832-6 (Inventory No. T1639)
eISBN: 978-1-61278-377-2
LCCN: 2015936181
Cover design: Amanda Falk
Cover art: Shutterstock
Interior design: Dianne Nelson
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Conclusion: The Christopher Mission
Introduction
He was so right, and I wish I could go back in time to tell him how wrong I was.
It was a bitterly cold night in Harlem when I met this gentleman, a man whose name I am embarrassed to say I don’t remember. Coming up from the subway that evening, I was in no mood for conversation. It couldn’t have been past 5:00 p.m., but already it was mostly dark, one of those short days of the year that feel so very long.
The day at the office had been mostly disappointing. I wanted to get home, slump into the armchair, and zone out on ESPN. But I couldn’t avoid him.
“Father, I need to talk to you,” he forcefully blurted out, in Spanish, just loud enough and in the perfect tone to make sure everyone around us knew I heard him. He didn’t bother to stand up or even move his head. Seated, with his back and head against a building, and with his forearms resting on his bent knees, he waited for me to come to him.
“How can I help you, sir?” I asked.
“Have a seat, Father, next to me.”
He was sitting on a wet, partly shoveled sidewalk at Broadway and 116th Street.
“But, sir, I need to get home,” I told him. “I’ve got someone waiting for me at the church. But … are you cold? I can send someone to get you some food and into a shelter for the night?”
“Have a seat, Father. By the way, your Spanish isn’t too bad for a gringo.”
I wasn’t in the mood for compliments either.
“Father, you asked me how you could help me, and I’m telling you. Sit down next to me. I want to talk to you. I just got here on a bus from Chicago.”
I knew the right thing to do, but convinced myself otherwise, with the perfect excuse. The safe thing to do — in a big city like New York, when it’s dark and cold — is to tell the person you’re in a hurry. After all, you never know….
But he didn’t give me time to give a definitive “no.” I’m sure he saw it coming.
“Father, here’s what I would have told you if you had time. I just got word from home that my son got accepted here at Columbia University,” pointing just to his left, to the main gates of the university at 116th and Broadway. “He’ll be coming to New York City in six months. I haven’t seen him in eight years since I left my country.”
The glow of paternal pride on his face verified his authenticity.
“Oh my goodness,” I responded. “Congratulations!”
At this point, I truly wanted to stay and get to know more, but I had painted myself so forcefully into a corner of busyness, of needing to go home, that I couldn’t reverse my story with the slightest bit of grace.
I asked him his name, shook his hand firmly, and went on my way. He smiled graciously.