Prepare the Way of the Lord!

As it is written in Isaiah the prophet: "Behold, I am sending my messenger ahead of you; he will prepare your way. A voice of one crying out in the desert: 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.'"

-Mark 1:2-3

Prepare the way of the Lord! Advent is upon us, and so much has to be done! At the end of the liturgical year, we find ourselves sluggish after two weeks of readings from Revelation, so let us arise to prepare for His coming!

I was talking to a friend over break who hit his 24-hour gym shortly after his family's Thanksgiving had ended. He looked around at the other seven or so guys--who looked at him, in turn--and they all knew that there was some work to be done concerning their midsections. It's the same with our souls; we need to do a few reps on the prayer-mill to get our souls in shape for the Lord! I know, I'm cornier than a Cornhusker...

Try as we might, there will always be distractions from the true preparation, particularly from society. Hold on, Marthas of the world; let me finish. I'm all for the trimmings around the tree, figgy pudding, and Bing Crosby singalongs, but let's remember that the true meaning of Christmas can be lost, especially on our "Christmas and Easter only" Catholics, not to mention those who fail to recognize any supreme being yet decorate their house anyway. I don't want to be the clerical Scrooge or the spiritual Grinch, but if we forget to prepare ourselves in addition to our gifts and households, then what will we have to present to the Holy Infant?

Everything is aglow in Rockefeller Center, but do our hearts glow with love on the Interstate? Herod looms in the form of the Culture of Death, ready to slay whatever contradicts "me, my, mine." We make room around the Christmas tree for presents, but is there any room for our Savior? Or here's one that I'm most guilty of: we can bemoan the fact that Notre Dame was absolutely slaughtered last night, but how often have I been praying to Notre Dame, Our Lady of Perpetual Help? Even prolific bloggers can miss the "reason for the season."

There are so many examples of distractions, but these can be made right if we look to the Lord, to see His presence among us. He, too, provides ways for us to prepare our hearts: We see the Gloria stricken from the Mass, to remind us of the greatest glory which is to come. The sun sets sooner so that the North Star might shine brighter. The cold air has such a commanding presence that nature yields its familiar sounds to the silence, of which Paul spoke so eloquently. And, if you're as blessed as my hometown was today, a "freshly fallen silent shroud of snow" will serve as a reminder of purity, peace, and perfection--all personified by a tiny Babe who would one day sacrifice Himself on a Cross. I'd like to see Currier and Ives paint such a juxtaposition!

I hope that your beginning of Advent is as splendid as mine! In the midst of your preparations, remember to make room for the Lord! As always, Paul and I send our prayers.

The Sound of Silence

Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

-Simon and Garfunkel "Sound of Silence"

One of my happiest moments in eighth grade was when my parents got a new car--our very first car to have a CD player in it. This was before the time of iPods and satellite radio, when CD players were still a big deal. I all but memorized the few random CDs we kept in the car: Rod Stewart's Greatest Hits, The Notre Dame University Glee Club, the Remember the Titans Soundtrack, John Denver and the Muppets Christmas Carols, and Simon and Garfunkel's classic album, Bookends. Bookends was reserved for those cloudy and cold late November afternoons. I went through high school loving that album. (Before I continue, I would just like to add my humble opinion that Bookends became the defining "chill" album for all other chill artists to follow).

Advent. It starts tonight along with a new liturgical year. So for all of you Liturgical gurus reading, happy New Year! Now for the connection. I feel a bit odd writing this, but I think Paul Simon had something going on about, of all things, the Advent season when he wrote that song.

Advent comes at the darkest time of the year. At least where I am right now, Sunlight is a rarity. On the days it isn't cloudy, the sun is up for only about nine hours (though I guess that's better than Alaska). Yet still, that's 15 hours of night time! Between that, the bare trees, and cold northern winds, I can't help but reflect on the dark things of life. Injustice, sin, violence, greed, thoughtlessness. Our world has a dark side and so often we are content to be apathetic toward it, ignore it, or outright deny it. I think we do those things because we don't want to get hurt. We don't want to trust, hope, or love as much as we possibly can because one or more times in the past we did love, hope, or trust and our hearts were broken. Things didn't turn out the way we planned and we were left in the dust.

I think we have the season of Advent, four weeks before the joy and excitement of Christmas, to take the time to look into the darkness. It is a time for us to come to the better understanding that God not only cares for us when we are doing well and on top of the world. Just as much, if not more, God cares for us and calls us when we are in our darkness, when we sin, when we despair. God didn't give the gift of Jesus for only the culture's winners and success stories. He came for the tired, confused, ignored, and lonely as well.

I like to imagine that in the quiet hours of late evening, in the sleepy town of Nazareth, the angel Gabriel came to Mary to ask her, very humbly and simply, to bring hope into this dark, messed up world. Thankfully, she was open and courageous enough to say "yes" to her vocation. After her "yes" to god, she spoke up into prayer from silence:

"My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior....He has shown might with his arm, dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart. He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly" (Luke 1:46-47, 51-52).

In this Advent season, at least for me, I feel it is important to add a bit more time each day for silence. In that 10-15 minutes of silence I hope that I can look courageously into my own darkness so that I can let Christ enter and brighten it. In that I hope to better understand and follow my vocation as a son of God, member of the Church, and brother to the world.

We Give You Thanks

Oh what a glorious day we have been given here in the United States: Thanksgiving, the day in which we come together as family and friends and give thanks for the blessings we have received. Turkey, stuffing, gravy, cranberries, and pumpkin pie serve as nourishment and as reminders of the wonderful bounty set before us. Centuries ago pilgrims from a far-away land gathered together in peace with native peoples of this land, to give thanks to them for helping them survive through their perilous beginnings on this continent. To think that we still gather together to commemorate such generosity and brotherhood is awe-inspiring.

Such inspiration has a far greater meaning, however, when put into context. It is the Lord who has provided us with this plenty, who smiles down upon us as we join hands round our feasts this evening. In the same way He looks down upon those who go without; the down-trodden, the abused, the homeless, the lonely. There is a world of hurt out there, as well, but even those who appear to have been slighted by the Giver of Good Things extend their hands in praise and thanks this day. I know this for a fact.

Yesterday I had the privilege to join parishioners from my parish assignment down at a local soup kitchen. As we gathered in the hall to pray before serving the clients, the Vincentian priest came in and ushered us all into the Church. "We're going to do things a bit different tonight," he said with a beaming grin. We dutifully followed him into the church.

Once inside we gathered in a semi-circle in the sanctuary; our heads craned upward to marvel at the beautiful fresco painted on the back wall, and to the tower of canned goods which nearly covered the high altar beneath it. Father told us about the efforts of the soup kitchen, explaining that while they may not have the state-of-the-art appliances as the major charitable organizations have, but they do have the context with which the service thrives. "What we do here on this altar," he said, "we bring into this hall," extending his hand towards the room where we were about to serve two hundred and one people. Mothers, fathers, children, and others just aching for relief were so gracious--all because of an extra scoop of green beans and mustacholi:

"Thank you, Father. God bless you."

God has blessed me, indeed. I am grateful for the gift of faith, for my family and friends, for the gifts which he has showered upon me, and many more. But, perhaps the gift which I am coming to appreciate more and more is the gift of my vocation. So many doors have been opened to me through the response to His call, the most important doors belonging to the hearts of those whom I will serve. I hope to one day echo the words of my pastor at Mass this morning, "I am thankful for my priesthood." What blessings we receive when we listen to God's call!

That's what we're about here at The Rock and the Sword. Paul and I are so thankful for the opportunity to jot down a few reflections on the lives of two pigeon-brained seminarians in hopes that the Holy Spirit might take the reigns and move our hearts closer to Jesus. And to you, our faithful readers, let Him dwell at the fore of your souls, guiding every action so that you may fulfill the call which He has provided. Let us thank Him for the work He has begun in us!

Paul and I extend a blessed Thanksgiving to you and yours.

PS: Paul, your nephew was eating things out of the cigarette dispenser outside of church. He's taking after his uncle already!

On the Shoulders of Giants

The highlight of my trip to the SOA was being part of the Ignatian Family Teach-In. This Jesuit-sponsored spiritual network usually gathers three times a year throughout the US. With each gathering it has been gaining in attendance, mostly by Jesuit high schools and universities. This past weekend over 4,000 students crammed into an old warehouse converted into a convention center for a day of talks and reflections from dozens of people. Some spoke of bringing their faith to life working to change unjust systems. Others witnessed to the challenge of speaking out the truth of the gospel when and where it is so often inconvenient and even counter-intuitive. Finally, some spoke of the need for sacrifice in our Christian lives.

One of the most powerful moments of the weekend for me came when the Jesuits were asked to lead a prayer service. In typical Jesuit fashion, most of us were informed of this a few moments before it actually happened (that's livin' on the road for you). Over 70 Jesuits were scattered through the crowd of students. One Jesuit from California stood up on stage, the lights dimmed, and began reading what it meant to be a Jesuit, to have an Ignatian spirituality, today. He spoke of our desire to serve Christ in all we do, our call to live a life of service and justice in the world, and our end to give our lives to God and His people.

The Jesuit began to call out the names of the 48 Jesuits--from countries all over the world--that have been martyred since the 1970's. With each name a Jesuit stood up from the crowd, walked to the stage, lit a candle and stood in front as a witness to the martyred Jesuit's life and the continual mission of the Society. Half way through, the Jesuit called out "Fr. Andre Masse. September 24, 1987. Lebanon." I stood up, walked up to the stage, lit my candle, and humbly took my place with my brother Jesuits. By the end of the litany, 70 or so of us were standing up in front of the crowd, candles lit in remembrance for our martyred brothers.

Recalling the event, coming from the crowd and standing up there, I still can't help but be in awe. It's amazing to see the realness of God's presence in the lives of men and women in the Church. It's amazing to believe that in the midst of sacrifice, adversity, and suffering, such humble men can continue to live in such joy and peace. It's so very humbling to feel that as a man of faith, justice, the Church, we become men of hope for thousands, no matter where they are in their spiritual journeys.

Sometimes I, along with many others I know trying to live a Christian life, get discouraged. We may wonder, what's the point? Why live such a radical, selfless lifestyle? Why go the extra mile or always put others and God before myself? As I stood up there, I again realized, as Christians we very humbly and imperfectly try to do those things because wealth, power, fame, honors, and security do not nourish a person. He or she might get by for a while, but one truly lives and grows through love, hope, faith, and the Grace of God. God is our all, and that is enough for us.

This Came to Me at Waffle House

Nine Jesuits and I just got back from a six-day, 40 hour trip to attend the 19th annual SOA vigil and ninth annual Ignatian Family Teach-In. We were just 10 of thousands of students from Jesuit schools. Along the way we stopped at three different high schools and met with thousands of students to talk about vocations, discernment, and life as Jesuit novices. It was kind of like being on a concert tour going from town to town but without the crazed fans and luxury tour bus. Since I focused a lot on vocation, discernment, and life as a Jesuit (in general and personally) during the trip, the next few blogs will be about some of my experiences.

Before I share some reflections, let me share with you a bit of what the SOA is and why there is a vigil there each year. It's a rather surprising and intricate story.

The SOA Stands for the "School of the Americas." The SOA is a school within Ft. Benning military base in Columbus, GA sponsored by the US government which trains modern military tactics to soldiers from Latin America. The school was created to maintain US-friendly governments in Latin American countries during the Cold War. While that sounds legitimate enough, one cannot help but be shocked and appalled when he looks at the records of these trained military men once they return to their home countries. Hundreds if not thousands of the SOA's graduates have committed and been accused of war crimes and political abuses. They are directly and indirectly responsible for the murders of thousands of innocent Latin American citizens during the 80's and 90's. A few years ago, so that it would appear the SOA closed, the US government changed the name of the school. It is currently known as WHINSEC which stands for "Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation."

On November 16, 1989, six El Salvadoran Jesuits, their housekeeper, and her daughter were brutally martyred by government soldiers. The murders were planned, approved, and carried out by graduates of the SOA. The reason? For standing against the country's corruption, injustice, and secrecy. While their message was of faith, peace, unity, and justice, it was seen by the country's elite as being subversive, Marxist, and treacherous. These murders were the beginning of the (very slow) end of the thousands of secret beatings, disappearances, and murders in Latin America. The next year, 13 men and women sat outside the gates of Ft. Benning remembering the lives of the martyred Jesuits and their friends as well as protesting the actions of the SOA. This past weekend the prayerful vigil grew to over 20,000 people.

Sunday morning, just outside of the fenced-off gates of Ft. Benning, 20,000 white crosses were held up as a litany of the dead was chanted for a over an hour. The Sunday morning sky was completely quiet except for each of the sung victim's name and the peoples' response, "Presente."

I looked over the crowd, at the sea of white crosses, in disbelief. I couldn't believe that so many people have been killed in to protect democracy and to avoid communism. The reasons for their murders, any murders, are so painfully trite. Any violence is the result of selfishness, fear, greed, misunderstanding--it is not of the gospels. It is so heartbreaking, yet so much a part of our humanity. Our sin will always be in front of us, even for the saints, all the way until death.

However astounding humanity's history of atrocity and violence, even more remarkable was the spirit, faith, and hope of the people at the vigil. Our Church is alive. I stood in joyous awe as the Good News of the Gospel came alive on a sleepy street in a sleepy town, somewhere in Western Georgia. Throughout the weekend so many young people shared with me in conversation their conviction to deepen their faith and to struggle for the truth of the Gospel. Have a vocation to live out the gospel? Don't worry; you are not alone. We are in the thousands.

Wondering if faith has a practical place in the world today? Absolutely, we just have to keep facing our blindness.

Wondering if there is anyone else out there who wants more than just what's on the surface level? Just ask around and be open to find your answer in the most unexpected of places.

Wondering if you can still take part in the stories of the gospel so far separated by time from the time of Jesus? Right on. Just be patient. Take the time to read the Good Book. Pray. Put your life in front of His life and see that they begin to come together--teachings, miracles, death, resurrection. They're all here, today.

Galatians Revisited

These past few weeks have proven to be quite trying here at The Rock and the Sword. As the end of the semester approaches, late nights are more frequent than not; shares of Dunkin' Donuts stock have been bought due to the vast amounts of its coffee consumed. Paul, too, has had some trying weeks as he prepares for his "long experiment" in January (I'm sure we'll be hearing more on this topic in future posts). In any case, this is why the blogging hasn't been as spectacular as usual.

In the midst of the onslaught of academic and pastoral assignments, a brief encounter between your humble authors recently occurred. While on his way to the Ignatian Teach-in and protest of the School of the Americas, Paul made a visit back to his hometown, our American "Palestine." A brother seminarian, another close friend, and I joined Paul and his family for dinner at their home; there were smiles beaming on every face throughout the evening. After a wonderful dinner and time to talk and laugh over great memories, Paul needed to return to the province house for the night. My brother seminarian and I eagerly volunteered to drive our good friend there.

It was this car ride which gave Paul's visit the greatest meaning. As we drove down the Interstate, we prayed the Rosary, asking our Blessed Mother for protection as we continue to respond to Christ's call, and for all those discerning a call to the priesthood and religious life. I thought back to the countless times we had driven this route together; how beautiful it was to see our friendship move towards its fulfillment.

This, for me, was Paul's entry into Jerusalem. I was in no way reprimanded as St. Peter was; Paul instead chose to edify me by his great love for the Church, and the great joy with which he goes about his life. It's so reassuring to know that one of my best friends understands the great mystery of this vocation, experiences his unworthiness of such a gift, yet plows ahead in search of the Kingdom.

Isn't it remarkable how a few hours can prove to be more meaningful than a few months? Paul told me this; visits home have to last him a very long time. May we embrace these precious gifts as they enter our lives. How rich they are in nourishing our vocations!

On Merton

I love hearing other people's vocation stories. No matter how simple or dramatic they are, every one of them brings a smile to the narrator's face. Each of them has the same author, God, who takes little or lengthy amounts of time to write their stories upon their hearts. That's what makes them so authentic.

Thomas Merton is a great example of a vocation storyteller. When reading his autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain, you can't help but feel sorry for him as he roots around for a morsel of satisfaction or fulfillment. Maybe even some of us can sympathize with him as he searches the world for his true calling.

In all of his experiences--the death of his mother, his loneliness in a boarding school in France, his father's brain tumor, visiting Churches in Rome, his time at Cambridge and Columbia, service work in Harlem, and his rejection by the Franciscans--Merton gradually came to realize his call, slowly considering a conversion to Catholicism and the lingering of the priesthood in the midst of his journey. They are encapsulated in his description of the Mass shortly after his baptism:

And I saw the raised Host--the silence and simplicity with which Christ once again triumphed, raised up, drawing all things to Himself--drawing me to Himself. -245

Merton's words have had a profound affect on countless souls search for Truth. His autobiography has been a best-seller countless times over; it is a real-life struggle to which we can relate! Maybe that's why so many seminarians have cited Merton's work as the breaking-point of entrance into the seminary. They relate to the uncertainty, the anguish, the joys of life, and realize that no matter where they search, they will only find that Truth in Christ. That's why the moment you finally discover your calling, after all the time spent searching for purpose and meaning, is such a unique treasure. Merton, shares his "moment" with his readers:

It may seem irrational, but at that moment, it was as if scales fell off my own eyes, and looking back on all my worries and questions, I could see clearly how empty and futile they had been.... And already I was full of peace and assurance--the consciousness that everything was right, and that a straight road had opened out, clear and smooth, ahead of me." -401

I was so moved by these words a few years ago that I scribbled them down on the front cover of my breviary, which I see everyday. No matter what troubles or blessings I expereince, Merton's words ring true--I have found that straight and smooth road in Christ.

Read Seven Storey Mountain to experience Merton's tale for yourself!

The Ruby

It was a sweltering hot afternoon. The nature shop didn't have air conditioning, so every outlet was filled with fans to try and cool the place. They failed miserably. The owner sat on a stool behind the counter reading the paper and fanning himself with the other half. A radio played in the distance.

Suddenly the bells that hung on the door chimed; a potential customer. A man dressed in shabby clothes walked in and nodded to the owner, whose stare was less than inviting. The shop had two rows of shelves that ran deep into the darkened shop; the customer made his way done one aisle, glancing at items as he passed them. The shopkeeper kept an eye on him and the other on The Times.

Near the back of the store lay some potting supplies, some garden hoses, and an orange bucket full of rocks. The man dug deep into the bucket and began to look at various rocks of different shapes and sizes. His hands, which weren't clean to begin with, were now blackened with all the dirt and mud from the bucket. He continued to root around until he found one rock that caught his interest.

He walked up to the owner and laid the rock on the counter. When he didn't look up he asked him, "How much you want for this?" He picked it up and rubbed his thumb over it; it was dark and caked with dirt. He glanced at the man's face and back at the rock--and back at the man again. He gave a laugh of pity and said "$2.50" before returning to his paper.

A week or so passed. The owner opened up his shop one morning to the same routine, a copy of The Times tucked under his arm. After opening up the store he sat down on his stool, opened the paper and screamed. The headline read :

MAN FINDS RUBY IN LOCAL STORE, WORTH $250 MIL

Our gifts from the Father are the same way. How often have we had a treasure from God and we didn't even know it? How have we dismissed our talents, throwing them into a filthy orange bucket at the back of our souls? Wherever you are in your life, whether or not you've found your primary vocation, how is God calling you to use your treasures? At times we might have to root around in the mud and dirt of life to find them, but when we do we'll find that they are far more precious than any ruby ever found.

A special message to those who are on the fence: give it a shot. You never know what treasure God has in store for you. If you don't take the risk, you may find yourself screaming at the missed opportunity to possess the greatest treasure of all, His love.

Be Open, Everyone's Doing It

I had a good friend in college, Zach, who freshman year desperately wanted to be a doctor. I remember one November day, Zach had just bombed his second biology exam of the semester. He couldn't believe the 62% typed into the side of his scantron sheet. He walked out of the lecture hall and sat in disbelief on the cold bench in the middle of the currently dormant garden.

Zach wondered to himself, how could this be? He had spent hours upon hours studying in the library. He read and reread the readings for class. He even went book's website and did those online practice web tests that he previously thought were just a waste of time.

On top of it all, Zach couldn't make sense of his misfortune because for as long as he could remember, he felt called from the bottom of his heart to be a doctor. He had grown up the son of a successful heart surgeon, been on a few medical mission trips to Mexico, and prayed over the decision to be a doctor more than I will ever know. It just didn't make sense to him that he could have such a strong desire, such a disciplined work ethic, and still tank the fundamental class for every pre-med student. Yeah, it was called the "weed-out" class, but Zach knew for sure he would be able to breeze through it.

--A word of sober wisdom from Paul: If you think this won't happen to you to a certain degree, beware. This kind of "triumphant failure" happens to us all sooner or later. How we come out of it all depends on how we take it in.--

After that semester Zach was left with a lot more questions than solutions. His chances at remaining a pre-med student appeared bleak and a degree in biology was out of the question. The next few months amazed me. At first Zach "wondered around" vocationally speaking. As time went on he even thought about dropping out of school all together. Yet as time went on, Zach never ceased to pray. Eventually he gave up his desire to be a doctor, something he coveted as an "absolute" just a few months prior, and began exploring what else the school offered.

I eventually asked Zach if he had figured out what he planned on doing. He said, "You know, Paul, I thought about it a lot, and I prayed about it more. I realized that nothing really attracted me to biology at all. Yeah, it's important, but it just didn't make me come alive."

...I quickly interrupted, "You don't say! Hmmmm. Maybe that's why you fell asleep almost every class. And I just thought it was the professor who everybody else said is amazingly captivating."...

After my little jab, Zach laughed and continued, "It really surprised me when I prayed over it, but I am feeling called to a business degree. It doesn't make any sense to me at first glance because I have never really wanted to be seen as 'the man,' but I realized that I am pretty good at it, I don't get bored with it, and I can do a lot more good with it for the poor, non-profits, the disadvantaged, and the community in general if I study business."

Sure enough, this past April, Zach crossed the graduation stage holding a degree in business administration. In my opinion he made a fantastic discernment. First off, he was not set back by misfortune. He took it and used it as an opportunity to evaluate his talents, desires, and needs. Zach was brave enough to say "yes" to his true characteristics, and they led him to a field he didn't expect, yet one full of life for all.

Currently Zach is using his business degree for a small Church-based non-profit in his hometown serving the needs of single mothers. While it doesn't pay a lot and there are very few long-term securities, he told me he wouldn't want to be doing anything else. Over a phone conversation Zach said that more than ever he is "in love with God and all his crazy, crazy people."

Self-Titled

Today the we celebrate the dedication of the churches of the Apostles Peter and Paul. Both basilicas were completed in the fourth century in Rome, situated above the tombs of the Rock and the Sword.

The feast day is not focused as much on the magnificent churches built in honor of these two apostles, but on the men themselves and their complete submission to Jesus. Through their beauty and splendor, however, these churches compel us to follow their example.

At times I reflect and think about what Paul is up to; we talk on the phone and through email, but I can't experience what he experiences. I get discouraged, too, when I'm sitting in the classroom or laughing at the parish with donut in hand--where's the long experiment? Where are the Spiritual Exercises? Shouldn't I be out there on the road, spreading the Gospel?

St. Leo the Great explains how their examples of faith are in fact one model in Christ Jesus: "As to their merits and virtues, which no words can describe, we should not think of any difference or distinction between them; their calling was the same, their labors were similar, theirs was a common death." In the same way, then, Paul and I go about our daily work--all in the name of the Lord!

St. Leo's words are comforting to this lowly diocesan seminarian. I am called to be of service to the people of this community, to be a rock for them in the name of Christ Jesus. I cannot forget the need for service here as well. And, if the Gospel of Jesus continues to be spread, our calling is in fact the same. No matter where we serve, we serve in the name of the Lord. No matter what we're called to, our work must be rooted in Christ. May we remember this truth today as we commemorate these two apostles!

Thank You, Mr. Beggar Man

I was driving back to my dorm room one cold, fall evening when I saw the man with a scruffy beard, big eyebrows, and army jacket back pan handling at his usual off ramp. I began to avert my eyes when I noticed that he had made a new sign.

"NEED WHATEVER YOU CAN GIVE ME. I'M NOT PICKY. WILL WORK."

I quickly read the sign, not starring too far up as to appear that I noticed him. If I looked him in the eyes I would be guilty, of what exactly I didn't know, but I would be guilty. I awkwardly fiddled with the radio buttons. The Red Hot Chili Peppers blaring in the background seemed a bit too upbeat so I turned it down. A few seconds later I turned it off. I stared from the steering wheel, to the tall grass to the right, to the chained link fence and then to the light, all trying to hide that man from my vision. Finally the light turned green and I made a quick left turn into safety.

I drove down a couple of blocks with the immediate feeling of great relief. Thank you, God that I didn't have to face him. Thank you, God, I got past that guy okay. Really though, I was sick to my stomach. What had I done? What a hypocrite! By this time I was pulled off into a Starbucks parking lot. Why couldn't I have given him a few dollars? Why couldn't I have given him a ride? Why couldn't I have looked him in the eye? Basically, why couldn't I love him?

I knew that needed to change something. I didn't necessarily want to be Mother Theresa or St. Francis of Assisi, but I sure didn't want to be a hypocrite. I began praying over it in the empty Starbucks parking lot.

God, it's so easy to go to Church and say I want your love and even that I want to do good for you in this life, but God I'm too scared. But I don't want to be a hypocrite. I will not be a hypocrite. It's either give up going to mass and all that weird religion stuff that I don't really understand anyway or give up ignoring all these poor people I see around school. God, what's it gonna be? I'm sorry for running so long God and being a hypocrite. It's gotta be one or that other. Tell me what I should do. Let me know soon. Tired and a bit frustrated I quickly threw the shifter into 1st gear and drove off back to my dorm.

Back in my dorm I couldn't do any of my work. I couldn't concentrate on anything. All I could think about was that stupid sign, "NEED WHATEVER YOU CAN GIVE ME." To some degree I felt bad that I didn't give that guy anything. But even more, I couldn't help but feel the exact same thing on the sign. God, I can't leave you. I need whatever you can give me. Help me. I will give anything.

"I need whatever you can give me." "I will give anything." Somehow, later that night, I wondered into the chapel on campus. It was dark, quiet, empty. I sat in a pew alone and a bit in awe. I knew that God was answering my prayer as I sat there. Just me sitting there in church made me realize that I would not loose my desire to serve God and to be a Christian. Should I be a priest? maybe, I thought. But whatever I do, I will be like that man on the off ramp. I will be poor, taking whatever God wants to give me. And to the poor, I will not just give them a few buck and walk away. No, I will walk with them, together in poverty, toward hope, joy, and love.

Our vocations start off and develop through the most ordinary of moments. If we really look at it, each moment can be an opportunity to choose Christ and his love.

A Holy Little Friar

Last night I had the chance to go home for a little while; my sister is home from college so my family got together and had dinner. The phone rang a little while later--I always hesitate to answer it nowadays, knowing it's not for me--but I went to pick it up nonetheless. By the sound of the muffled voice I knew exactly who it was, a dear friend of our family and a holy little friar.

On June 21, 1958 my great uncle and Fr. Mike were ordained priests to the Order of Friars Minor, more affectionately known as the Franciscans. Donned in habit and with new religious names, these men set forth to spread the Gospel all across the world. I marvel when I hear stories of all they accomplished and sacrificed, all in the name of the Lord. Our generation of priests certainly has a lot to live up to!

Fr. Mike noted how great of a time it is to become a priest while on phone. "It seems like there are a lot of great young men," describing the vitality and zeal which our generation can give to the Church. I must admit I began to choke up when I told him of how remarkable the call to the priesthood is, and how thrilled we are to be called to such a vocation. It's not often that I find myself without words, but our conversation this evening was one of those occasions...

I was disappointed that I couldn't attend Father's golden jubilee this summer in Chicago. My mom and dad went in remembrance of my great uncle, but also to see Fr. Mike, who was his best friend. Of course I had a chance to see the video of the Mass, but especially Father's words of thanks after Communion. His words show how in his 50 years he has given all to Christ; instead of taking the praise for himself, he turned the thanks back on the congregation. "This is your celebration, too," he noted, "for without you--every one of you--who would I serve?" And so the priesthood is not only a life of service, but one in which the priest gives up everything for the people of God, even after 50 years.

As I draft this post I can picture Fr. Mike sitting in an armchair dialing up my family's house. His throat cancer must affect him terribly, but he has no complaints. This holy little friar makes me think of my own priesthood and the thought of 50 years of service. I can't even begin to comprehend the immensity of that gift. For when Fr. Mike reaches his eternal reward, he will certainly hear the Lord say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant" (Mt 25:23).

Stickin' with the Call

Don't be fooled. Once you enter a seminary, novitiate, marriage, or any serious commitment in life, your discernment is not over yet! It goes on your whole life. Although a lifetime of Christian discernment may seem daunting, it is anything but that. A life lived in humble discernment brings with it graces that we cannot find any where else. Trust me, I have tried them and they just don't fill me up like God's graces.

However, it is easy when we discern our vocations with little supervision, it is easy for us to get lost in our own thoughts or to begin to believe things that aren't necessarily true about ourselves and the world. I know that it's good for me to get re-grounded every once in a while in good technique, understanding, and desire. Listed below are a few things I like use in examining how I am responding to my vocation. The more I examine these things the better I can hear God's call and have the grace to live it. You might want to try these out for yourself.

1. honesty
"Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life."
Am I making myself out to be the hero, the innocent one, or the victim rather than simply a beloved man called by God? When I look at my day, do I see it for what it is or only how I want it to be?

2. patience
"He went down with them and came to Nazareth, ...and Jesus advanced in wisdom and age and favor before God and man."
What's the rush? I was created in a particular time for a particular people. Have I been rushing my discernment, trying to make things happen before they should? Oppositely, am I just dragging my feet in fulfilling my vocation?

3. prayer
"Remain here and keep watch with me."
Have I made time to pray? Did I keep myself open to His love and grace or try to push my own agenda? Have I been blocking His call because I am scared? God, I take your love for granted. How much do you love me?

4. questioning
"Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men."
How is God calling me? Is it different than I have been acting? Am I willing to follow Him? Do I trust Him?

5. adoration
"I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever."
Have I poured myself out all to God lately? Have I been trusting in Jesus or have I been putting my trust in prestige and security?

6. service
"No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends."
Have I used my energy to build others up or tear them down? Am I serving the world so that we may find God in it or just to make myself look good?

Show Me a Sign

Steubenville conferences always provide interesting memories. There was the time when I dropped the keys to a golf cart down an elevator shaft, the time when Fr. Stan Fortuna became quite acrophobic during a Eucharistic procession through a theater balcony, or the time when two seminarians and I drank 48 Cokes in two days. The story I will tell, though, is how my friend discerned his calling while on one of these fateful conferences. Here we go!

We'll name my friend after the apostle Thomas, since he was certainly doubting many things. Like all of us, he had spent a long time thinking and praying about his vocation, namely to enter the seminary. At the same time, however, he met and became good friends with a girl who was also heavily involved in youth ministry; we'll call her Mary. The two began to date and formed a beautiful and holy relationship, but the call to the priesthood was resonating strongly in Tom's ears as well. Tom finally decided to get in touch with our vocation director and apply to the seminary. When he signed up to go to World Youth Day in Cologne with the seminarians, we figured he was a shoe-in.

Fast-forward to July, 2005: Tom and Mary went to our regional Steubenville conference; Tom went with his youth group as an adult leader and Mary was a coordinator for the event. If you've never been on a Steubenville conference, the best way to describe it is a high-octane experience of Christ and His Church--people singing and praying during talks and adoration--a very powerful faith event, indeed.

Tom's discernment came to a head during that inspiring weekend. He saw the remarkable vocation to the priesthood, one which he felt was his own, but he also saw the great relationship he had with Mary, one which he felt could lead to much more. Wrought with uncertainty, he turned where most Catholics go: to a priest. But not just any priest--the vocation director. The same one he had interviewed with to enter the seminary. It would be safe to say that Father was a bit surprised when he learned of Tom's quandary, but he listened to him as he poured out his heart. Both choices were rooted in Christ, but they weren't choices--there was a call. But to which one?!

As I rounded the corner to set up for the next liturgy, I saw the two of them talking. Keeping my head down, I quickened my steps towards the chapel. Once inside, I noticed there was only one other person there: Mary, who was deep in prayer in the first row. I gathered what I needed and quietly left her to her prayers. Something was up.

Back down the hallway, Father and Tom were still conversing. Finally, Father stopped the deliberation with one simple command: pray. Tom said something about having to catch up with his group when Father interrupted him: "No, pray. Now." Tom turned and shuffled down the hall to the chapel.

Now, here's where any other writer would use his ingenuity to capture what was going through Tom's mind and heart; I cannot. I can't begin to describe how Tom must have felt as he walked down the hall to face his Creator--and the hardest decision of his life. I won't try to recreate Mary's prayers, either; my narrative would hardly do them justice. All I will relay is what Tom told me he said before he entered the chapel: "Lord, show me a sign."

Let my prayer come before you; incline your ear to my cry (Psalm 88:3).

God answers all prayers. This is certainly true of Tom's prayer; his answer was there in chapel, kneeling before Our Lord. Mary had known about Tom's discernment, and when she saw him talking to the vocation director, she slipped into the chapel to pray for him. In the same way, she prayed that God's will be done, whatever that may be.

As Tom knelt besides Mary in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, they prayed for each other as well. They are a great example of how to discern God's call, or where, I should say. When we get down on our knees and ask the Lord to point us in the right direction, He will undoubtedly do so. However, it may not be as obvious as the response Tom received.

Tom and Mary are still dating after nearly four years. May the Lord continue to guide them in their discernment of His calling, and us, too!

St. Stanislaus Kostka

Sorry for the late post today everybody. I have been away from the computer all day long attending a seminar. I did a lot of sitting, listening, and drinking watered-down Maxwell coffee.

I was randomly thinking today about God (that has been happening more and more often lately. I should get it checked out) during our talks. Here's just some pondering from the afternoon:

The love of God is the one thing in this world that cannot be moved. No matter how far we run away from him, He will love us more than we can ever know. Oppositely, no matter how hard we try to make up all of our sins to God, we can do nothing to make Him love us more than He already does. God's love cannot move because His love is already manifested in everything in heaven and on earth.

If His love really cannot change, I guess its really up to me to change how I see the world, how I can find His love from the obvious, the mundane, and everything in between. In that pursuit I am faced with an option: I can ignore that God is bigger than me, more powerful than me, and more loving than me, and choose to work my butt off to get ahead and appear great to all. --OR-- I can realize that I am a tiny little speck--loved to the fullest by God--in our ongoing Salvation History and choose to give myself to it. That means admitting my sin, helping my neighbor, and giving myself up to His grace. In my experience, the second option is the way to go. Yeah, it stings at times, but a life lived in His love is peaceful, joyous, and generative even in those tough times. Poverty, chastity, obedience, service, community, mercy, and striving for justice are not burdens. They are pinches to wake us up to the bright love of God, found most through Jesus Christ, in our everyday lives.

Today (or yesterday depending on when you are reading this. again, sorry to be late) is the feast of St. Stanislaus Kostka. Though his name is hard to pronounce, he has great personal significance for me. Stanislaus is the patron of Jesuit novices and one of the three Jesuit "boy saints" along with St. John Berchmans and St. Aloysius Gonzaga. He left Poland in the 16th and walked across Europe disguised as a beggar until he made it to the novitiate in Rome and entered at the young age of 17. At the novitiate he was known for his strong devotions to Our Blessed Mother, the Eucharist, prayer, poverty, and his house chores. After only ten short months, Stanislaus got an illness, which was not terribly uncommon during his time, and died. He had known God's love from a very young age, and with the help of God's grace, Stanislaus dedicated himself as best he could to living in the joy, peace, and zeal that comes from God's love.

I must add that Stanislaus is often portrayed as a very frail, young, pious-looking boy. When I see a holy card of him I cannot help but feel that he was pretty wimpy. It may also seem wimpy today to say to a friend "Hey, I think I want to be a priest" or "I was praying about it and I think I should be helping out more in the parish." The idea that holiness carries with it a certain wimpiness cannot be farther from the truth. To be in tune with God's love for us is a way toward strength. As Saint Paul writes:

"I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong." (2 Cor 12:10)

At the Ninth Hour

Now Peter and John were going up to the temple area for the ninth hour of prayer. And a man crippled from birth was carried and placed at the gate of the temple called "the Beautiful Gate" every day to beg for alms from the people who entered the temple. When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked for alms....

Peter said, "I have neither silver nor gold, but what I do have I give you: in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazorean, (rise and) walk." -Acts 3:1-6

We seminarians and novices may not have much, but what we have, we give. Each one of us has been given so much in our treasury of gifts and talents, however. Together, as priests of Christ, we can shower our people with presents "More desirable than a hoard of finest gold" (Psalm 19:11).

I've often grown frustrated while at the parish, hospital, or nursing home: What do I have to give to these people? I can't bless them, hear their confessions, or give them Communion! All I can do is watch "Ellen" with them. How worthless is that?!

Actually, it's not worthless at all. As of now, it's all I have to give! There have been times in my life when the most powerful thing I could give to someone was a smile or a hug; it proved to be far more meaningful than and words I could have muttered---all because they were rooted in my love for Christ! Peter and John had a tremendous gift to give in Christ's name; our presence in the name of Jesus is comparable. The ministry of presence is sometimes the greatest present of all!

So, while we wait and prepare for our ordinations, we give what we can in the meantime. Part of our gift is the zeal we have for souls. They are the reason why we go to the temple--the chapel--at the ninth hour, at several hours when we pray the Liturgy of the Hours. It's that great zeal for souls which prompts us to give all that we have in the name of Jesus. He did something remarkable, too, in the ninth hour; He died on the Cross.

I can see this outside of the seminary, too; I see it in many guys who are discerning to enter the seminary. There's a senior in high school from my alma mater who can't wait to finish this year and enter the seminary. He's willing to give all that he has to Christ, and he's ready to begin! I see it, too, when I hear stories of the North Carolinian with brain cancer who wants nothing more than to die as one of Christ's priests. Talk about giving all that you have!

May we continue to use our gifts and talents through Christ so that all may "rise and walk" in the name of the Lord.

"...there were never such devoted sisters..."

Peter and I attended a Catholic grade school run by 4 strong-willed Sisters of Mercy. I think I can speak for both of us and say that we loved it. Many memories from grade school still stick with me. I remember in 8th grade I broke a sand bag while goofing around in the theater room. Scared of the consequences, I decided not to tell anyone. Of course I got caught. My punishment, along with 4 other guys was to rake all the gumballs from the front yard of the Sister's convent. I felt guilty to begin with, but then one of the sisters who knew me from birth came out and said in her disappointed voice, "Paul, I never thought that I would be seeing you here doing this. You were such a kind little boy growing up. I'm sorry that you would have done such a thing." Sister laid my guilt right out in the open, in front of all my friends. I don't think I could have felt worse.

More than revengeful toward her, I remember being embarrassed for myself, for my own immaturity. But I cannot help but look back on that whole experience with a slight sense of nostalgia and an even greater sense of gratitude. I am grateful for those sisters because, looking back on it, they really loved me with their whole heart (as they did every student they ever had). They dedicated their entire lives to making us more mature, wise, and loving people.

Sometimes when I hear news about the sisters from my mom or when they come to me in prayer, I wonder if their vocations are some of the reasons I decided to enter religious life. Those 4 women, two of whom have past away (May they rest in peace), are some of my role models of what it means to live a selfless, joyous vowed life. I often wonder why so many female apostolic congregations are struggling for numbers. There are many practical reasons that people have theorized, but it still doesn't really make a lot of sense to me. When I think of the Sisters of Mercy or look to the Dominican sisters with whom I work now, I cannot help but get caught up being a witness to their joy, commitment, and selflessness. It just doesn't make sense to me that a lifestyle so beautiful, fulfilling, and needed can go left unanswered.

I think it is vital to continue to pray for the gift of discernment within our Church so that each of us can better know our vocations and not be scared to fulfill them. Be open and reflective. Many times those "crazy" desires way in the back of our heads and hearts are actually whisperings from the Holy Spirit. More often than not we do not have to embark on an exotic mental trip to figure out how to fulfill that desire. It can be fulfilled bit by bit, until, sooner or later, that desire becomes our whole life. Around the age 15 or 16, when I began making the Catholic faith my own, I began wanting to be holy like the sisters at my school. Working more and more to fulfill that natural desire to be holy, I entered the Society of Jesus. I am thankful to the Sisters for being amazing women of the Church and personal role models for me. I pray that more women answer the call of service, love, and joy in religious life. I also pray that as members of the Church we are ever more supportive and grateful for their vocations. Women in discernment, God bless you!

The Married Couple

Happy Monday! I'm back from another insanely busy but rewarding Sunday at the parish. Every week I acquire ten or so experiences that remind me of how remarkable the call to the priesthood is; I'll only share one of them with you today.

While distributing Communion at one of the Masses, I saw an acquaintance and friend of a friend who was married this June. I had a chance to speak with he and his wife after Mass; both have begun careers and have a promising future together. While the conversation was short, it meant a lot to me. It was a sign of what joys I can anticipate in my priestly ministry.

Sometimes I hear of priests who hate to celebrate weddings. All the fuss: marriage prep, FOCUS tests, fulfilling the wishes of the bride while impressing upon her the importance of the sacrament, cleaning up the rice, making sure the bridal party isn't intoxicated--all negatives. If that's what the priest is thinking about during the preparations, no wonder he hates weddings!

Maybe I'm just naively optimistic, but I an eager to celebrate 30 or so weddings a year. Like other priests I know, they relish the chance to help a couple see the beauty that lies within each other, that Christ has called them to cherish each other as much as He cherishes each and every one of us. Yes, there are true challenges in preparing couples, but I hope to take those up in hopes of leading the bride and groom closer to Jesus.

A couple that truly embraces their wedding vows can be edifying to everyone, but especially to priests. Here are two people who truly understand the answering of a call; they have said "Yes" to each other for "as long as we both shall live." That's not something you enter into lightly! In the same way a priest enters into a long-lasting, eternal relationship with his bride, the Church. He accepts her, warts and all, and continually serves her "for better or worse, in sickness and in health." Maybe that's why there's such a long engagement!

As I sit and talk with family and friends at the reception, I think of what it'll be like to be a priest at weddings in a little over three years. Part of me might be tempted to feel sorry for myself: Everyone else will go home to their loved ones; all I'll have for support is my breviary. But it's then that I'll remember how I prostrated myself in a basilica, giving the entirety of my being to Christ Jesus and His Church, "For as long as we both shall live." There's certainly a gravity that lies behind those words, but from what I gather, much much more lies on the other side of that "I do," no matter the vocation.

And everyone who has given up houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or lands for the sake of my name will receive a hundred times more, and will inherit eternal life (Matthew 19:29).

How amazing it is that people invite us into their lives, to be present for the joys and sorrows throughout ones life, from the cradle to the grave! Just as I felt privileged to speak to the newly weds outside of church yesterday, I will be honored to witness many men and women join together in matrimony as their priest. I'll be with them, then, throughout the ups and downs of life, always serving to bring them closer to the Father. It's only possible if I fully embrace the call! My God, what a life!

Don't Tread on Me

I have always loved the outdoors. In fact, I spent most all of my summers during high school living in a tent and working at a Boy Scout camp. It was great. My backyard was made up of 5,200 acres of woods and a 250 acre lake. Besides the late July humidity and the mosquitoes, working at camp was a blast. Every morning the staff raised 3 flags at 6:55am. The third flag was the Gadsden flag, better known as the "Don't Tread on Me Flag." While we say that we raised it to symbolize patriotism, I really think we just flew it because it looked cool. The flag was originally flown by the US Navy, particularly the Marines, during the Revolutionary war. Since then it has stood as a symbol of bravery, freedom, endurance, spunk, and tenacity. I like to think I am a pretty laid-back guy (unlike my patron, St. Paul), and although tenacity and spunk don't come naturally to a laid back guy, for some reason I love this flag.

Enter the Gospel. In today's gospel we hear the famous story of Jesus' cleansing of the temple,

"He made a whip out of cords and drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen, and spilled the coins of the money-changers and overturned their tables, and to those who sold doves he said, 'Take these out of here, and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.'”

In a way, Jesus was saying "Don't tread on me!" to those who wanted to take advantage of faith, religion, God, and His community for the sake of personal profit. This has no place in Jesus' mission. His was a mission of overcoming the world's sinful greed and corruption with the generosity, love, and merciful justice that can only come from Our Father in Heaven. Jesus still carries out that mission today through the words, actions, and prayers of the whole Church--from the Holy Father in Rome all the way to you and me.

I think it is incredibly important to look at our own vocational discernment and ask ourselves, what sin have I allowed to creep into my own heart that keeps me from living out my vocation to the fullest? The temptations are everywhere in our lives. They try all they can to enter into our lives as well as the life of our parishes, schools, and communities. They tell us that it is a much better idea to tear down relationships than to build them up and sustain them. Sin is real and we can only get rid of it when we face it head on.

Don't tread on me! Don't convince me that just because he's a "conservative" he won't spend time fighting for the rights of the homeless and working poor. And don't convince me that just because the other guy is a "liberal" he won't spend time struggling to end abortion and euthanasia.

Don't Tread on me! Don't tempt me to think that because she grew up rich that she is unable to connect with the rest of the world. And don't tempt me to think that because that other girl grew up poor that her thoughts really don't matter that much.

Don't tread on me! Don't trick me to believe that because those people are young they don't care about God, church, or parish life. And don't trick me to believe that because those other people are over 40 years old that they aren't integral to our futures.

Don't tread on me! Don't convince me that someone else can answer the call to my vocation. Don't tempt me to think that life would be a lot easier if I followed something else beside God's personal vocation for me. Don't trick me to believe that if I feel the desire to be a priest or religious, it's probably just some nostalgic feeling, and that I should be a financial consultant instead.

Folks, temptation--sin--is just waiting for the opportunity to trample all over us. It sure seems nice and flashy at first, but it just muddles up our discernment. It can make the difficult choice to enter a novitiate or seminary just that much more difficult. Trust me, ignoring that temptation exists is not worth it. Take your vocation seriously, be generous towards it. If you are contemplating being a priest, look into it. If you are not, find some way in your parish to help out those who are. Our church was built to be a universal church, imploring everyones' support, love, and prayers from around the world so that Christ's kingdom of hope, love, mercy, and joy will grow through the world. Isaiah 56 says:

The foreigners who join themselves to the LORD, ministering to him, loving the name of the LORD, and becoming his servants-- All who keep the sabbath free from profanation and hold to my covenant, them I will bring to my holy mountain and make joyful in my house of prayer; their holocausts and sacrifices will be acceptable on my altar, for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.

We have a choice. We can either be "the foreigners who join themselves to the Lord," or we can be those who gave into the temptation to take advantage of faith and people's good will. Little by little, from Baptism onward, we try our best to model ourselves to the example and will of the cornerstone of our faith: Jesus Christ. Amen.

Wow, that was a lot more than I thought I would write. Thanks for hangin' on.

Foundation

My apologies for not posting sooner than I usually do; I had a long night completing a take home exam for a sacramental theology course. A really long night. I'd like to thank caffeine, Simon & Garfunkel, and the Holy Spirit for helping me complete my exam (not necessarily in that order, though).

Oh right, the post.

Having been blessed to attend Catholic schools my entire life, I never rode a school bus in the mornings. In fact, little devil that I was, I would laugh at the kids waiting for the bus in the frigid morning air while I sat comfortably in the warm navy-blue Oldsmobile. We affectionately called it "The Boat."

My father at the helm, my sister and I would talk all the while about our youthful frustrations with cursive and multiplication tables; other times we would sit silently because of our poor behavior the night before. We accomplished a lot in those fifteen minute rides to school, but one conversation with my father will be forever stitched into my mind.

One day, for one reason or another, my sister didn't ride with us to school. The decibel level having dropped significantly, my dad and I talked about my troubles in one particular class. I conceded that I wasn't giving doing my best, which brought about the inevitable speech I knew I would get about "applying myself" or what not. I welcomed it. Anything was better than Perry Como.

As we drove up a road named after a creek we passed some houses that were being built. "You see those houses, Pete?" my dad asked. "They've just laid the foundation, the most important part of the whole house. If the foundation's not strong, the whole house will come toppling down." He explained that we, too, need a strong foundation for life. How else will we remain standing when the strong winds come and rock us back and forth?

Christ, too, knew the importance of a strong foundation. He chose St. Peter, a man of great faith and perseverance, to lead His Church through the troubling times it would face. We need that rock-solid foundation, too, if we're ever going to do the Lord's will. It's tough! But how much stronger we will be if we root everything in prayer, if our discernment of God's will is filled with some serious, knock-down drag-out soul searching! Start now, my spiritual director instructed, because you'll need that strengthen when times really get rough. And they will get rough.

You might read tomorrow's second reading from St. Paul to the Corinthians. It relates. Have faith. Have a rock solid foundation!

Into the Wild

A few months ago I watched this fantastic movie called "Into the Wild." The story is taken from a book with the same title by Jon Krakauer. I might add that it is based on a true story. If you get the time, give the book or movie a chance. 

Here's the basic premise. After graduating from a prestigious university, Christopher McCandless decided that he would drop everything he had planned on doing to go "find himself." He wanted to find a genuine way of living, an adventure, and above all, love. Big surprise, after a few months on the road, Christopher evolves into a totally countercultural hippy. After burning the little money he had and his Social Security card, he took the name "Alexander Supertramp." The story comes to an end with him living alone in an abandoned school bus somewhere in the Alaska wilderness.

Toward the end of the movie, after a sea of experiences in solitude, Supertramp scribbles out this little phrase:

"Happiness. It's only real when it's shared."

One thing I have begun to realize about the seminarian life is that our days are paradoxically filled with both close personal relationships as well as hours of quiet solitude. We spend our days trying to find God's call in our life by leaving distractions and attachments behind. Eventually dressing in black, sleeping in a single bed, and two hours of quiet time for prayer are second nature. Yet on the other hand, we spend our day submerged in the culture. We do some of our best work in any place from a historic cathedral to Fenway Park, from city buses to grassroots movie studios. Our lives are not our own; They belong to God and His people, and that thrills me.

I think priests live this dynamic lifestyle out of second nature. A priestly vocation is rooted in a desire to be a pilgrim of sorts. There is a desire found somewhere in the priest to constantly reach a new and deeper sense of God. They love living out Christ's comman "Go and preach to the nations." Priests travel from meeting to meeting, mass to mass, parish to parish so that they can bring as many people as possible to a deeper understanding that God desires to be with them. There is a certain understanding that, while the Good News is good on its own, it is even better when it is shared. 

It's certainly a challenge to be on that pilgrimage to spread the good news, whether it is across the world or across the pews. It is challenging for two reasons. One, we the ministers are not perfect, and two because it appears so much easier to be herded by our selfish and lazy desires.Why listen to the words of St. John or spend time with a wise homeless man when I could play Wii sports or Guitar Hero II?  Yet if we really desire happiness, If we really want to live a life in peace, it is more than worth it to embark on our pilgrimage to live and spread the Good News. Yeah, you will falter, and yeah, people will spit on you, but they cannot take your joy and dignity found from a life shared for others. Remember:

"Blessed are they who are hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied."

Imperfection

I love giving tours of the seminary. By far my favorite part of the tour is the main chapel; a reverent hush comes over even the most boisterous of groups.

There are many things which make our chapel beautiful: the rich stain on the pews, the hand-made quarry tile floor, the confessionals, the remarkable stained glass, the marble altar, and of course the crucifix and tabernacle. After explaining these to the visitors, I lead them down the main aisle towards the altar for another item of interest.

Once the group has assembled at the foot of the sanctuary beneath the pulpit, I mention the beauty and detail put into the items we have just seen; "You can see that the architect took great care in building this place of worship," I add. "But, the architect knew that his work would never be perfect enough for the Lord, which is why this one piece of tile is opposite all the others in the line." People examine the tile carefully, as if they find a piece of themselves represented. I certainly do.

I've always found it fitting that such a tile exists at a seminary, where men gather to actively respond and train for the holy priesthood. There we assemble, morning and night, to pray, to offer our lives to the Father. We acknowledge our faults and failings before His Son, present in the Blessed Sacrament reposed in the tabernacle, and aspire to be the shepherds of His flock, the laborers of the harvest.

No one is worthy of the blessings received, of the calling of the Lord. But guess what? He calls us anyway! There's a young man in my parish who feels a call to the priesthood, but is plagued with doubt and feelings of unworthiness. That doesn't mean he's not called! I might be down on myself for a poor exam grade or a fall to sin, but through the grace of God and hope in Him I get back on the proverbial horse and ride on! As my friend has attached to the bottom of each email he sends, "God doesn't call the qualified; he qualifies the called."

I can't say that the message of that lone tile comes to mind every time I enter the chapel, but it's a great reminder that I am being called in spite of my imperfections. I pray, too, that the men and women who read this post discern God's unique call and invitation to serve. Are we imperfect? You betcha.

Jesuit Vocations Day

In case you didn't know, today is National Jesuit Vocation Day in the United States. I don't exactly know how to celebrate it properly since it seems to me that every day is Vocation Day at the Rock and the Sword. I guess the most appropriate thing to do would be to talk about what defines a Jesuit. How do we want to be identified?

The answer is in the name. A Jesuit is a member of the Society of Jesus. Jesus is our life. He is the source and summit of our desires. If you take away a Jesuit's desires for Christ, then you take away the Jesuit. Our founder St. Ignatius based the efficacy of the entire order on the desire of a man to love, follow, and serve Christ. He is our source and our inspiration. So many men join for a large variety of "surface-level" reasons. But we quickly come to see that the variety of desires to enter are rooted in one ultimate desire--"to praise, reverence, and serve the Lord our creator."

This "desire" shows itself in all we do. The desires are encountered on the 30-day Spiritual Exercises retreat every Jesuit experiences. They are cultivated through 11 years of intellectual, pastoral, and cultural formation each Jesuit undergoes. They are defined by requests of the Holy Father--to whom Jesuits take a special vow of obedience. They are challenged with every struggle a Jesuit makes for those who are struggling, poor, or persecuted in any way. Our desire for Jesus grows through prayer, discernment, and patience. Whatever it is we are doing, we are doing it because we want our life to be like Jesus, if He so wills it.

Poverty, ministry, community, the Eucharist, and the Cross--these things we yearn to embrace as best we can, with success and failure, because they are manifestations of both our desire for Jesus and His desire for the world. St. Ignatius' desire to be with Christ led him all through Europe (on foot!). He would go wherever he felt called because he obeyed God's word. In that same spirit, still to this day, a Jesuit will go wherever he is called from the superior, the Pope, or the Holy Spirit. We trust that the mission we are given is one to be with Christ, in his passion, death, and resurrection.

So why be a Jesuit, more broadly, why be a priest?

"To a young man who wishes to be a Jesuit, I would say:

Stay at home if this idea makes you unsettled or nervous.
Do not come to us if you love the Church like a stepmother,
rather than a mother. Do not come if you think that in so doing
you will be doing the Society of Jesus a favor.

Come if serving Christ is at the very center of your life.
Come if you have broad and sufficiently strong shoulders.
Come if you have an open spirit,
a reasonably open mind and a heart larger than the world.

Come if you know how to tell a joke and can laugh
with others and ... on occasions you can laugh at yourself."

--Fr. Pedro Arrupe, SJ

For the Holy Innocents

When Herod realized that he had been deceived by the magi, he became furious. He ordered the massacre of all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had ascertained from the magi (Matthew 2:16).

When we hear these grave words from Sacred Scripture, how can our hearts not ache? I immediately picture soldiers bursting into a house and ripping newborns out of the arms of their mothers, who are left alone in utter anguish and agony, with nothing to fill the void of their child. These children proved to be the first to die for Christ Jesus; how happy they must be next to the Holy Infant in paradise!

The feast of the Holy Innocents takes place on December 28, but I felt that their intercession should be invoked today, of all days, as citizens of the United States head to their polls to vote in the presidential election. The results from today's election will not only characterize the nation's path for the next four years; they have the potential to change the world forever, for better or worse. Life, the most important of all the issues which have marked the campaigns, is certainly at stake.

Those poor Holy Innocents, whose lives were violently ended by the command of one mere mortal. Who was King Herod to take life into his own hands, especially the most innocent and vulnerable of our being? Who are we, citizens of this land, to legislate the murder--yes, murder--of innocent children, all in the name of convenience? My heart certainly goes out to those who have been victims of sexual assault, but abortion is never the answer to such hardship. In any instance, the Holy Innocents have a right to life!

Blessed is the fruit of your womb...

It is my prayer today that when Americans enter their polling place, the Holy Spirit might guide their consciences to vote for the candidate who best preserves the sanctity of human life. One might not agree with the other views in his platform, but life must be preserved at all costs. For how else can we boldly proclaim, "In God we trust?"

May we hope for true change in Jesus Christ our Lord.

If I Only Had the Nerve

I will admit, I am a bit crunched for time this week. As I took bus 21 to my ministry this morning, I was wondering what I was going to write for my post today. At the same time I was reading an essay by a Jesuit on "Eliciting Great Desire." I liked what I read so much, I decided just to post a little section up for you to read. The following excerpt is by Fr. Edward Kinerk, SJ and can be found in Studies, vol. XVI, No.5. (N.B. Fr. Kinerk's audience is to fellow Jesuits. Feel free to apply it to yourself--whether or not you are a Jesuit).

...Courage will make you happy. As we saw from the life of St. Ignatius, a Jesuit ought to be more prepared to act on his authentic desires than to suppress them. Ignatius warned that we loose the graces which God gives us if we do not respond, and courage empowers us to respond. We need not all be bold personalities. Ignatius gathered men around him who did not appear to be especially lionhearted, and he turned them into great apostles and saints. Courage grows through use, and if we persist in taking our desires seriously we will inevitably find ourselves emboldened at some time to act. The timid soul who first breaks down the blockage of fear and puts authentic desires into action will find not only a deeper assimilation to Christ but also an exhilaration which active courage provides forever new desires and deeds. This applies not simply to Jesuits as individuals but also to our communities, our provinces, and perhaps even to the whole Society of Jesus. Courage is contagious....

Like faith, reason, and all other good virtues, courage builds upon courage. While courage is ultimately a gift from the Holy Spirit--we can all receive it, but we are still responsible for developing and maintaining it. Let me give you an example from my 6th grade play--The Wizard of Oz. The cowardly lion gained the honor of courage from the Wizard after he mustered up his strength and faced his own insecurity, self-deprivation, or a feeling of inadequacy. He could only do so from his desire to be his fullest self and to help out his companions. His story of courage is the story of a countless number of saintly people, alive and dead. From Peter and the fishermen to John Paul II who called for all the faithful to "Be not afraid!"

Those Who Have Gone before Us...

As I park my car in the cemetery parking lot, images of that rainy day in 1993 flash into my head. My grandmother had just died after suffering from lung cancer, a cancer which was found far too late to be treated; a cancer which left my family devastated in the few short months between her diagnosis and her passing. With the utmost sadness we gathered under umbrellas and buried a woman who had gone before us.

My grandmother is a saint. No, I don't say that fallaciously; she lived the life to match the title. In addition to raising three children, she took care of her ailing mother and father, kept tabs on her aunt, and had a full time position as a dietitian. Oh, and she was ardently Catholic. Yeah, saint.

What did she think of her "Little love," her first grandchild? Spoiled rotten. Swimming, the zoo, McDonald's, we did it all. We would sit and watch "Golden Girls" or do crossword puzzles together, and talk and laugh all the time. She would take me to Mass; I remember curiously watching her toll rosary beads in her hands while we waited for Mass to begin. She has been an inspiration to me, a model of perseverance and of great faith. I can only think of one other earthly woman who has affected me so much (her daughter).

And as I step cautiously between tombstones, leaves crunching beneath my feet, I locate her grave. No matter how often I visit her bodily resting place I can never exactly find it and end up saying, "Okay, where are you, grandma?" Having found her headstone I smile at the image of St. Francis, which symbolizes her brother, a Franciscan priest, along with her great joy and simplicity. I carefully brush away the grass clippings and dirt that the mower has left behind, and say some simple prayers to show my great admiration for this woman, whom I pray has joined Christ in heaven.

I have always found it fitting how close her grave is to the seminary, yet another sign of God's providence. In fact, I noticed earlier this year that from the hill upon which she was buried the seminary is in plain sight. I was so moved at the thought of my training to the priesthood being watched by my grandma, who would intercede for me along the way. What beauty lies in these thoughts, these tremendous blessings!

I also try on occasion to visit the priest's plot, down the hill from my grandmother's grave. There the men of recent passing are buried, including my parish's founding pastor. I spend extra time thanking God for the gift of such a tremendous man, who had the vision to establish such a magnificent parish. As I stand next to the earthly remains of these men of God, I hope that my brother seminarians and I might have but a thumbnail's worth of reverence and zeal as these giants had, all in the name of the Lord. They help me to remember that one day I , too, will be buried beneath that same soil...

On this great day of All Souls, let us remember those who have gone before us, especially those who need our prayers in the midst of Purgatory. Might we learn from their example, their witness, their love for Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

Old Blue Eyes

Today is the feast of All Saints. If you feel uncertain or alone in whatever you are discerning in life, this is the feast day for you!

If you look it up in the books, there are thousands upon thousands of canonized Saints in the Church (not to mention the thousands more who are declared "Blessed"). Some were loud and others quiet. Travelers and hermits. Kings and beggars. Stay-at-home moms and martyrs. Brilliant scholars and clowns. Famous scientists and unknown porters. Popes and trouble-makers. When you look at their profiles, you begin to realize that the saints share nothing in common EXCEPT their passionate faith to know, love, and be like Jesus.

---Warning: Bad Segue---

I don't know if you knew this or not, but Peter loves to listen to Frank Sinatra. ...really, he does. I'm not makin' this stuff up. In fact, I wouldn't doubt it if, as I write, "My Way" is blaring in his room and down the hallway as we speak. Of course, I only bring all of this up because I think it relates to the Saints. Let's see if I can pull it off.

...Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew

When I bit off more than I could chew

But through it all, when there was doubt

I ate it up and spit it out

I faced it all and I stood tall and did it my way....

So many saints went farther in whatever it is they were doing than they could have ever imagined. I would venture to say that most of the saints had no idea what they would get themselves into during their lives. Their path to sainthood simply started with a commitment to faith. Their choice to actually listen to God and trust in His call--however obscure--led them through their doubts, mediocrity, and setbacks. Because of their openness, the Holy Spirit set their lives on fire with love, faith, and generosity. More than anyone, the saints really did it "my way" because for them, "my way" was nothing more than "God's way." As a result of doing it in their own ways--the way God wanted them--inspired those around them (and us today) to live with greater generosity and love.

Whether or not we can see it with our own eyes, we are our at our bests when, like the saints, we live our lives--our vocations--according to God's way. How do we know what that is? For starters, I would say, prayer, the Sacraments, community, and service. If we strive for holiness, to live saintly lives, the rest will follow no matter the doubts or challenges.

If you are feeling like you need a little motivation in your life, discernment, or any other situation, read up on a saint. Click here to go to a page with quick bios of all the saints (I think).