Preparing the Ground

The parable of the Seed and the Sower, which we have all heard so many times, was the Gospel this past wednesday on the Feast of Saint Thomas Aquinas. As it was proclaimed at Mass I could not help thinking about a common maxim of the Holy Doctor: Grace builds upon Nature. 

I think that as we reflect on this gospel in light of that teaching of Saint Thomas, we can find a great insight into our life as disciples of Christ. 

God, the divine Sower who has created all things, is constantly dispensing and sewing the seeds of his grace in the world. From the beginning of time this has been the case, and even more so in this age of the New Covenant which has received the over abundance of grace that flowed, and continues to flow through the Sacraments, with the water and blood on Calvary from Christ's pierced heart. 

We, each in our unique dignity as a human being, are the ground which the seed of Grace falls upon. It is into the hearts of each human person that this grace is sewn. Yet, it is quite evident that in some, or even many, of our hearts the seeds of grace are never cultivated, and bear so little fruit. Why is this the case? What does the grace of God transform some peoples hearts, while others seems impervious to the movements of the Holy Spirit. 

While I will not be so proud as to attempt answer or explain the hidden ways of God, I think that with the help of Christ's parable, and the thought of Saint Thomas we can come to some insight upon this matter. 

If grace builds upon nature, then we must offer to God something for his grace to build upon. And what we offer Him (which is in reality only the gift that He has given to us in the first place) must be prepared for the reception of that grace. We must work to make our minds, our souls, and our hearts fertile ground for the seed to be sewn. We hear in the parable about the different things that can exist that hinder the cultivation of the seeds, and the growth of the plant- rocky, shallow, and hard ground and weeds all inhibit the growth and the flourishing of the seeds. Just as this is the case in farming, so is it the case in our spiritual lives. We must look prepare ourselves, and work hard (preparing a field for a harvest is not easy or even fun) to cultivate our lives so that God's grace can sink its roots into deep, rich, and fertile soil that is not over grown with the brambles of sin- in whatever for they make take. We must begin to cultivate those good habits of life, the virtues (for more on the virtues check out this)- primarily the Cardinal virtues of Prudence, Temperance, Justice, and Fortitude- so that the grace of God can elevate them and supplement them through the gifts of the Holy Spirit and the theological virtues of Faith, Hope and Charity.

 God's grace is always stronger than we are, and indeed, all that we have is a gift from our good and gracious Creator. However, we cannot think that we should just wait until He comes and makes us holy. We have to do our part. We are fallen and sinful people and we have to work on our natural vices and weaknesses through self-control and determination to develop a fertile field that the Seeds of Grace can grow and flourish in us. Only in a heart fertile with the natural virtues will grace thrive and allow us live as we were created to live: bearing much fruit to the Glory of God. 

Grace builds upon nature, let us work this day, and all days, to make ourselves perfect, so that we may be receptive to the grace which God offers to us. 

Pork and Beans

As I've mentioned before, I occasionally have the opportunity to go to one of our local soup kitchens with the people from my assigned parish's St. Vincent de Paul Society. It's an honor to be able to spend time with these faithful people.

Yesterday, after greeting the workers in the kitchen, I threw a red apron over my clerics and started handing out trays of food to the men and women sitting in the hall. We serve hot dogs on our night, along with baked beans, apple sauce, and some cake for dessert. Most of our patrons are exhausted from work or being out on the streets; they don't want any trouble, just a nice meal. The smile on my face and a kind greeting conceal my heart, which aches as I hand out each plate of food. Some people engage me in conversation, smiling and calling me "Father" all the while. Others come up and ask for my prayers, encouraging me to persevere through the seminary. Little do they know that they're ministering far more to me than I am in return.

It would turn out that the night would be filled with many memorable experiences. On one trip from the kitchen to the tables, a man yelled out across the hall. "HEY!" he shouted, waving at me to come over. I came over to his table to see what he needed.

"What do I have to do to get some food?" he said angrily. Silence fell at the table. The patrons looked our way to see my response.

I noticed he had a half-eaten plate in front of him, and it wasn't quite time for seconds. Confused, I asked if he had his ticket that they hand out at the entrance. When he said that he didn't have one, I told him he had to have a ticket to get food, since those are the rules (if he truly hadn't been served, he could have gone and gotten a ticket). I felt sorry for him, for clearly something was bothering him. I went back to serving those holding their tickets in the air.

A little while later, while waiting to serve new arrivals, I saw the same man stand up abruptly; he shouted some obscenities across the hall at another guest, flailing his arms wildly. This caught the attention of the staff, who came running to prevent an incident. The supervisor waved for the police officer who stood at the entrance to the hall.

The officer on duty slowly made his way to the back of the hall towards the altercation. Nonchalantly he walked the man to the side door, opened it, and closed it behind him. Everyone went back to either their serving or eating the meals. I tried to picture the belligerent man, now out in the cold, with a belly only half-full. I couldn't help but think: what was his real issue? Why had he acted that way in a "no nonsense" atmosphere?

While washing dishes towards the end of the evening, I tried out the dish-washing prayer the sisters at the seminary told Andrew about earlier this week. It seemed fitting to use it while I furiously scrubbed at a pan used for the baked beans. I also thought of the man who was ejected while I scrubbed and rinsed the caked-on beans: "I ask you to save a soul because of it, Jesus." I wonder what Jesus would have done for the man who was ousted; maybe He would have brought a plate of pork and beans to the parking lot for him? Will He save that man and his soul? I pray to God that it be so.

I sit here now in my recliner, with yet another story to bring with me to the altar upon my ordination. That makes about eighteen or so stories this week, all to be offered to Christ as I lay prostrate a little over three years from now. As that date approaches I become increasingly aware of my unworthiness to be called to be a priest; it is God "who has really done all, and done it without my help," as Blessed Pope John XXIII said.

With the beginning of another day, I'll plow ahead, remembering that poor man at the soup kitchen when I feel as though I have it rough. "I ask you to save a soul because of it, Jesus."

The Common and Angelic Doctor

On 13 December 1545 in a small northern Italian town the Bishops of the Roman Catholic Church gathered together for the beginning of the Council of Trent. The Church and Europe was in turmoil in the wake of the Protestant reformers who, following Luther in 1517, had sought to overthrow the Holy Church of God. They were gathering together to address the abounding heresies that sough to corrupt the True Faith, and to formulate a plan on how to counter the reformers. They began that day with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, offering praise to the Father that He might guide the Council. After mass, as the Council session began the Fathers of the Council placed upon the Altar of Sacrifice three tomes which they would look to as guides for their proceedings: the Sacred and Inspired Word of Scripture, the decrees of the Supreme Pontiffs dating back to the Holy Apostle Peter, and lastly, the incomparable Summa Theologiae of Saint Thomas Aquinas. 

Saint Thomas Aquinas, whom we venerate this day, is a giant in the long history of the Church. He has been acclaimed by numerous popes, including all of those since 1879, as the preeminent guide for anyone seeking to study those two highest of sciences theology and philosophy. His collected works fill some 50 volumes, with a large amount being yet untranslated from the original latin. His Summa Theologiae has been accepted as the most important book on Catholic theology from its composition in the late 13th century until today. He was proclaimed by Pope Pius XI in 1923 as the common or Universal doctor of the Church, "for the Church has adopted his philosophy for her own, as innumerable documents of every kind attest." It is from his studies on the Eucharist that we have received the doctrine of the Transubstantiation, as a formulation of how the simple gifts of bread and wine become the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Christ. He wrote the hymns, of mystical beauty, for the Office of the Feast of Corpus Christi, such as Pange, Lingua, Gloriosi, and the Adore Te Devote, which are known, at least in part  by nearly every Catholic of the past seven centuries. And indeed, the list of the accomplishments of this most sublimely wise Friar of Saint Dominic can go on for ever. However, it is not, primarily for these reasons that we venerate him this day with such devotion.

There have been many brilliant men in the history of theological and philosophical discourse and this humble Friar is certainly among the greatest. But the thing that sets Saint Thomas apart from them most of all is not the many hours spent writing about the Holy Eucharist, but those innumerable hours on his knees adoring the Body and Blood of the Savior. Saint Thomas was not a scholar who prayed, but rather a lover of God who wrote about his true and only Love. That is why he is Saint Thomas Aquinas. That is why we venerate him today. 

I will end with the words the holy monsignor Ronald Knox preached on this feast some 60 years ago, 

"Meanwhile, Reverend Fathers, Let us remind ourselves again that we did not come here to admire the profundity of a great human genius, and the record of his achievement. We are here to thank God for the life of a poor friar, who kept the rule and scrubbed his cell and said his office and loved our Blessed Lady like the rest of us. If he had never put pen to paper, earth would be the poorer for it, but heaven would not have missed a citizen. He had that holiness, that setapartness, which would have supernaturalized his life's work, whatever his life's work had been. He entered the kingdom of heaven as a little child; it is the only entrance. Let us ask him to win us his purity, his humility, his love of obedience, before we ask for any part of his learning."

O Holy and Angelic Doctor, 

O Holy Light of the Church

O Holy Saint Thomas,

Pray for Us!

Captured in Stained Glass

As I walk down the aisle of the church I can feel my face start to flush. I know people are looking at the "nice young man" as he makes his way towards the long line forming underneath luminous stained glass windows. In my mind, there is nothing luminous, joyful, or even glorious about my presence in that line; I listen to parishioners dutifully toll their beads, reciting the Sorrowful Mysteries while I wait my turn.

My mind begins to race faster than my heart, now beating faster as the line grows shorter. Thoughts of remorse coupled with embarrassment at the thought of having to tell some priest my sins is almost unbearable, yet I stand in line, knowing it's what I have to do. I am filled with contrition as I try to form my confession in my head.

Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death...

Leaning against the brick wall of the church, I begin to think of all those sinner-saints, the ones who lived lives of sinfulness before their conversion. Their names carry great weight: Francis of Assisi and Augustine; Peter and Paul--these men struggled with power and purity, prosperity and pride, eventually turning from their "evil ways" and embracing the Cross. Will I be able to turn from my sin and serve my savior?

Lost in thought, I hadn't realized that the line had disappeared and a woman stands holding the door of the confessional for me. She smiles angelically as I give her a nod of thanks; she's one who has been "washed clean" and feels great relief. As often as I've done this, I always feel unworthy of Jesus' mercy.

In this darkened box, all I see is a blur of black and two streaks of purple, along with some light which streaks in from above my head. As the priest leans forward, his face comes into view. I notice his eyes, a deep blue, here to console me.

Bless me father for I have sinned...

As the sins issue forth from my soul, I can't help but look into the priest's eyes. In my anglocentric perception of the world, I think of Jesus with brown hair and blue eyes, just like this priest. It's fitting that I think of him as Christ, for he is serving in his person, administering the sacraments which Jesus gave in His unconditional love and mercy. This priest, alter Christus, gives the same glance as Jesus gave to Peter when He asked, "Do you love me?"

After confessing my sins the priest invites me to stand, turn around, and take a look at the wall behind me. Dubiously I comply; as I turn I see an image of the Prodigal Son in a stained glass window. "Now," says the priest, "try and picture your face on the face of the son." My bottom lip quivers as I picture myself in the warm embrace of the Father, forgiving of everything that I've done. God's love for me is captured in stained glass. "You see? That's how much Jesus loves you," says the man in the purple stole.

After my act of contrition and the priest's absolution, I shake Christ's hand and leave the confessional. My soul is no longer stained in the sin-filled sense, but like the stained glass window, an image of Christ with the light shining through. Donning the same smile as the elderly lady, I make my way towards a pew for a quick prayer of thanksgiving. I know for sure that I'll be back, but next time I'll be sure to remember that I'm never too far from the Lord's warm embrace.

If it's been a while since you've been to confession, consider it. Through confession and Christ's love, "though your sins be like scarlet, they shall become as white as snow" (Isaiah 1:18).

A Dishes Lesson

Just like any house, we at the seminary have to do the dishes after our meals. We have to take turns doing dishes after the evening meal each day of the week. Two nights ago I was on dishes with three other men, and we were working quickly so that we could get on enjoying our Saturday evening.

While we were working, one of the wonderful sisters who cook for us came over and asked one of my brothers a question. She said, "Are you doing this for Jesus?" He was somewhat confused at this unexpected question, and could only give her a quizzical look before she responded, "You should do this for Jesus. Each time you take a plate to dry it you should pray 'Dear Jesus I love you and I am doing this for you, and I ask you to save a soul because of it." As he recounted this story to me afterwards (I was behind him furiously scrubbing the serving pans to get them clean while this occurred), he said he was so taken aback he all he could say was, "Okay sister." He then went on to say to me, "She made me feel horrible! The sisters probably stand in the kitchen preparing our meals and think with every egg cracked, every potato peeled, and every pot stirred, 'Dear Jesus I love you and I am doing this for you, and I ask you to save a soul because of it,' while usually all I am thinking about is how I can get done faster so I can go relax. I wish I were that holy."

Since this happened I have been thinking about it quite a bit, reflecting on my own life and on how I approach the simple and mundane activities of each day. It has really opened my eyes to the innumerable opportunities for grace that present themselves to me each day that I so mindlessly pass over. But these are all moments that can be made holy and can help to redeem the world if we simply become a little more aware of ourselves and Christ's presence. I think that often times we all (or at least me) make living a holy life so much more difficult than it is. And sisters words the other night really brought this idea home to me. 

Holiness is not only, or even normally, about doing great and profound acts of charity, rather it is about sanctifying the ordinary. It is about doing every single action for Jesus. Not just the big decisive ones, but the little unnoticed and unimpressive ones. Jesus does not care about the greatness of the act, but only about the depth of love with which it is done. He finds more satisfaction in a dish washed in His name than in a million dollars donated for vanity's sake. We will do much more for the transformation and salvation of the world, if we do all these little things for Jesus, than we will ever do by looking for some grandiose act to do. 

So my intention this week, and I invite you to join me in this, is to work to be more mindful of those little things that come my way each day, so that I can offer them to Jesus as an act of love. So that as I do my homework, my laundry, my chores, and all the other mundane tasks of life, God might be glorified, and the world might be sanctified.

Bucked, and for Good Reason!

When we open our bibles to Acts, chapter seven, we encounter the story of Stephen, the first martyr for the faith in Christ Jesus. Boldly he proclaimed the Gospel message and in turn he cried out to Jesus, "receive my spirit" as men stoned him to death. While rocks battered this holy deacon, "those present laid down their cloaks at the feet of a young man named Saul" (Acts 7:58). They looked to Saul as they purged this man from their society.

I wonder how it must have felt to be Saul of Tarsus, a man of consequence as a Roman citizen, who sought out those who performed seditious acts in the name of the Nazorean recently crucified. He carried out what he thought was the will of the Lord under the auspices of the Jewish law, the destruction of this sect which had become a great nuisance.

As we turn to Acts, chapter nine, we see the zealous Saul heading towards Damascus, with permission from the high priest to seek out additional Christians and "bring them back to Jerusalem in chains" (Acts 9:2). As we well know, Saul was in for a tremendous surprise...

Struck blind and bucked from his horse, Saul hears Christ say to him, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?" Through his steady conversion to the faith through the guidance of Ananias and the workings of the Holy Spirit, he was baptized. Oh how the scales fell from his eyes and showed him the truth which he had been too blind to see!

The Conversion of Paul, as celebrated on this splendid day, is a sign to all that no sin is too strong to be washed clean by Christ's healing waters, no spite towards the Church too vehement that one might turn from hating it to promoting it with all their being. It was with good reason that the obstinate Saul was knocked from his horse; it may take a blinding light and a flinging from one's loftiness, but Christ is willing to do whatever it takes to bring his sheep into the fold!

Paul, it's important to note, wasn't simply received into the Church and then went back to his former life. No, he gave all to Christ, even more so than some of those whom Christ called as his apostles. Remember how I love to point out how Paul corrected Peter in Galatians? He was filled with such resolve as to correct the one to whom Christ gave the keys!

St. John Chrysostom is keen to point out how Paul is a fantastic model for dedication to Christ:

Paul, more than anyone else, has shown us what man really is, and in what our nobility consists, and of what virtue this particular animal is capable. Each day he aimed ever higher; each day he rose up with greater ardor and faced with new eagerness the dangers that threatened him. He summed up his attitude in the words: "I forgot what is behind me and push on to what lies ahead."

What does this mean for us, those who, even converts to the Church, live the faith day-to-day, never causing dissent or uprising? It means that we should never settle and always be willing to fight to the very end for Jesus and His Church! We should all be eager to join Paul at the end of our earthly ministry and say proudly, "I have fought the good fight. I have won the race. I have kept the faith" (2 Timothy 4).

God's blessings to you as we all try to follow Paul's example of true servitude.

The Index

Hello friends,

Just a note to let you know that we've created an alphabetical index of our posts here for easy access. I know, I should be doing something better with my time; I'm leaving my laptop now, I promise.

Peace,

Peter

The Monsignor of Geneva

Today the Universal Church celebrates the feast of the holy Doctor of the Church Saint Francis de Sales. (We at the Rock and the Sword have a particular affection for this most holy saint because he is the patron of writers!) 

Saint Francis was born in 1567 in the region of France that had been won over, almost entirely, by Calvinists. He was born into a family of the upper middle class, and his father was very hopeful that his son would one day gain glory in the world's eyes as a great solider or perhaps a politician. Yet, from an early age there was something special about this man. He always felt a particular closeness to God, and translated this into a great love of his family and friends. Yet, he lived a normal life. He was loved by those around him at both at the boarding school which he entered at seven, and at the University of Paris where he went to study law. He loved the outdoors- hunting, fishing, and boating- but there was something distinctive about Francis that set him apart from his peers. He had a profound love of learning, and would spend a great deal of his time studying theology, because as he said, "only theology will teach me what God wants to reveal to me in my inmost soul." In the midst of this Francis began to think more seriously about the priesthood, and while it was actually his true desire to become a priest, he persevered with his law studies, and after completing them as his father desire, he decided to become a priest. 

This is the first lesson which we can learn from this holy doctor.  We are called to passionately carry out our daily tasks, even if we do not enjoy them, because they are the means of our sanctification. We must learn to faithfully and joyfully do what we are called to in the here and now in the service of God. For for it is in the present moment, that precious gift which we are given, that God calls us. 

After his ordination Francis was sent to an area in France, Chablais, which was a Calvinist stronghold with extremely anti-Catholic sentiments(the offering of Holy Mass had been outlawed for nearly 60 years!). Yet, despite the intense opposition Francis attempted to befriend anyone who would listen to him. He had a policy of evangelization which was not the militant response which is so often associated with the Counter-Reformation, bur rather it was an apologetics based on his spiritual life. As he put it in an address to the small Catholic remnant in the area: 

"Love will shake the walls of this town; by love we most conquer it. I have no interest in organizing those camps the soldiers in which are without piety or faith. Our camp must be God's camp, where the trumpets sound in harmonious melody: Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God of hosts. My comrades, in battle it is in this sense that you should be thinking. Ardent prayer must break down the walls, and brotherly love charge them. Everything gives way to love. Love is strong as death, and to him who loves nothing is hard. "

Francis did not just want to win back the land and the churches of the protestants, he wanted their hearts. His apologetics of divine love was not easy. Francis suffered greatly in his work to bring souls back to the Ark of Christ. There are stories about how he would be without a place to stay so he would stay out in the snow, and would have to sleep in tree branches to avoid the wild wolves. Yet, through his dedication to prayer, to love, and to the proclamation of the Truth (Francis wrote hundreds of pamphlets on the theological controversies of the day, which were masterfully written in the spirit of his apologetic of charity, but explained the unassailable Truth of the Catholic faith in relation to the protestant heresies), he was successful- almost the entire population around in the region(some 72,000 people) was converted! 

This is the second lesson we can learn from Francis, to live in the truth with love. We are called to work for the conversion and sanctification for all of our brothers and sisters. It should be our most ardent desire that all might be united in faith to the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church, but we must evangelize always in love. We must never use the truth as a club with which to beat others, but it must always be tempered with the Love of Jesus Christ. How perfectly does this holy Saint embody this ideal of evangelization.

After Francis' great success as a humble priest, he was called to serve the Church in a bigger way as the bishop of Geneva. As a bishop he continued to work just as zealously as before for the salvation of souls and for the good of the faithful in Geneva Diocese, which he affectionately referred to as "my poor wife." Indeed, he believed that all souls, no matter what vocation they are called to can reach extraordinary heights of sanctify, he said "It is an error, or rather a heresy, to wish to banish the devout life from the regiment of soldiers, the mechanic's shop, the court of princes, or the home of married people." This belief, that sanctity is something every person is called to, was the driving force behind his work as a bishop, as John Paul the Great said in a letter on the Occasion of the 400th Anniversary of Francis' Episcopal Consecration, "He was concerned to lead souls to the heights of perfection, in his concern to unify the person around the heart of existence: a life of intimacy with the Lord, through which the Human being can reach perfection and become better." 

This is the final lesson we should learn from this most holy saint, known as the Monsignor of Geneva. We are called to perfection. Christian perfection is not something just for the priests, or the religious. The life of the Christian, of all Christians, should be one in which we become fully united in Christ, and that we come to share in His Divine Life. As Francis said, "Where ever we may be, we can and should aspire to a perfect life." We are called, each of us, to be saints, and if we forget or ignore this calling, we are falling short of what God desires for us.

In the end, I think that Saint Francis de Sales, stands before us as a perfect patron for our age. For this is an age in which we worry so much about the future, in which there is so much division and so little true charity,  and in which so few truly dedicate themselves whole heartedly to seeking Christian perfection- and an age such as this, needs a saint such as Saint Francis de Sales- who says with the fire of the Holy Spirit burning in his heart:

"LIVE JESUS, LIVE JESUS. Yes, Lord Jesus, live and reign in our hearts forever. Amen."

Saint Francis de Sales, Pray for Us!

The Dirty Dozen

I love today's Gospel. It is one of those readings that reminds me of the seeming absurdity of Christ's life and mission. We hear in the story today from Mark's Gospel about the calling of the 12 Apostles. He chooses out of all his disciples 12 men to be his closest companions. Mark recounts their names, almost like the list of those who "made the cut" for a play or a high school sports team-

He appointed the Twelve:

Simon, whom he named Peter;
James, son of Zebedee,
and John the brother of James, whom he named Boanerges,
that is, sons of thunder;
Andrew, Philip, Bartholomew,
Matthew, Thomas, James the son of Alphaeus;
Thaddeus, Simon the Cananean,

and Judas Iscariot who betrayed him.

And the one thing that sticks out to me as I reflect on what we know about these men, is they they were the most un-extraordinary group of men imaginable. Jesus seems to call these men who have no particular propensity towards religious ministry; He calls fishermen, tax collectors, and political activists- just to name a few. He does not call those who have been studying the law under Rabbis; he calls these men who weren't smart enough to go beyond the most basic education in Torah! Yet, these are the men, with the exception of Judas, whom He decided to built His Church upon.

He entrusted the perpetuation of His mission to a rag tag group of men (who instantly bring to mind the title of that classic movie, The Dirty Dozen) and what is so amazing, is that they did it. These men are at the foundation of the Catholic Church, their lives and the message they preached has change the course of history. How did this happen? How did these men, who seems summarily unqualified, end up starting a movement that has lasted and thrived for 2000 years and has spread to every corner of the Globe?!

We have to look to those few verses earlier in Mark to find the answer: "Jesus went up the mountain and summoned those whom he wanted and they came to him. He appointed Twelve, whom he also named Apostles, that they might be with him and he might send them forth to preach and to have authority to drive out demons." The reason the Apostles were able to set the world ablaze with the love of Christ is because all their power came from Him. Jesus drew them to himself, and part of their call was that they would be with Him. This is the core of all vocation. We are called to be based and rooted in prayer and to draw near, often, to Jesus. If we are ever going to be effective in our work in the Vineyard, we must know and love the Owner. In addition to being with Christ, they lived and worked through His authority. They did not trust in their own power, but they were always aware of the fact that it was His Gospel they were preaching, and it was the power of His Spirit that was at work in them. This is the second aspect of the Apostolic ministry, it was rooted and founded upon the Authority of Christ. We t00 must always make sure our actions are done "Through Him, With Him and In Him."

Nothing has changed in the millennia since these humble men heard the call of the Lord. He continues to call ordinary men and women to serve His Church in their many unique vocations. As we continue to respond to the Lord's call, let us draw near to Him often in prayer, and constantly depend on His power and His authority working in us.

Holy Apostles of God, Pray for Us!

Words at Arlington

The trips I've taken to Washington for the Pro-Life March have always proven interesting. There are always moments of praise and thanksgiving for the blessings I've received; there are always people I encounter who make the time I spend here memorable. This trip has proven to be no exception.

I mentioned yesterday how some brother seminarians and I ventured into Arlington National Cemetery; it's been something I've wanted to do for a long time. So, instead of whiling away the hours at the National Air & Space Museum, we decided to pay our respects to those who have fought for our freedom. The sight of endless white tombstones sent chills down my spine.

As we made our way up the hill towards the resting place of President Kennedy, we stopped at the terrace beneath "The Eternal Flame" and looked over the Potomac and the National Mall on the horizon. Kennedy's inaugural address, delivered on January 20, 1961, is enshrined beneath his mortal remains on large marble slabs below his grave.  As groups of school children walked about us, a portion of the president's speech stuck out amongst the others--and it wasn't "Ask not what your country can do for you." This is how the president ended his prolific inaugural address:

With a good conscience as our only sure reward

With history the final judge of our deeds

Let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His blessing

And his help, but knowing that here on earth

God's work must truly be our own

Immediately my thoughts turned to the reasons why I stood reading those words on a blustery January afternoon. How fitting! I thought of those who would fight to make abortion on demand a reality, and succeed 12 years after Kennedy addressed his nation with such challenging words. How poignant! I thought of the millions who had never seen life, all in the name of convenience. "Oh, Lord," I thought. "What have we become?"

My thoughts weren't nearly as hope-less when I gathered with 16,000 brothers and sisters in Christ at the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception for the Pro-Life Vigil Mass. Surrounded by people of faith from across this great nation, my prayer took on a different tone: "Oh, Lord, what shall we become?"

I don't have many answers when it comes to the future of abortion rights in this country. Instead of speculating how we can get more conservative judges on the Court, or bemoan the fact that the March will receive little or no mainstream media coverage, we can get out our rosaries and pray for a new beginning, a renewal of faith that God will "deliver us from evil." We must indeed go forth, leading the land which we love so dearly, as our president said 48 years ago. I'll be taking the words I read at Arlington with me in my heart, as a prayer for our nation; may we continue to try all the more to live out Kennedy's words:

'God's work must truly be our own'

Please pray for all those participating in the March today. God bless you.

Witness to Life

I had planned on writing about my experiences in Washington this afternoon, but instead there is an item at hand which is far more appropriate to discuss:

Upon returning to our hotel in Maryland I checked my email; one of the emails contained some horrible news. My friend and her husband found out yesterday that their unborn child had died. The doctors explained that the child wasn't growing as it ought to have, and therefore did not have a heartbeat. My heart aches for this couple, who had just married and completed a difficult move across the country. While they weren't planning on having children yet, they didn't hesitate one moment when they discovered that they were indeed pregnant. Now that's a witness to life!

I think about my friend now as I get ready to leave for the Mass at the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, a fitting venue for a celebration of life. I cannot imagine what she must be going through, but the fact that she accepted God's plan for her speaks volumes of the faith she must have. When I called her a moment ago I didn't use eloquent words; the most meaningful words I spoke were, "I'm so sorry," and "I'm praying for you." My friend doesn't have to carry a pro-life sign; she is a pro-life sign!

Please pray for my friends, their child, and all those children who have not had the chance to live life here on earth. They are with Jesus and the other Holy Innocents, beckoning us to draw ever-closer to Him.

More tomorrow: On my trip to Arlington and the Pro-Life Mass. Peace.

On the March

At the time stamped for this post's publication I will be sound asleep above furiously-spinning wheels making their way towards our nation's capital. This will be my seventh trip to Washington, D.C. for the annual March for Life, a profound witness to speak out against abortion and other violations against human life.

In 1973, the United States Supreme Court ruled in the cases Roe v. Wade and Doe v. Bolton that overturned laws prohibiting abortions, resulting in the deaths of 49,551,703 unborn children, according to the National Right to Life. The site also shows that in my birth year, 1986, there were approximately 1,574,000 who were aborted. Unfathomable.

With such statistics, not to mention the grief and hardship of those who have chosen to have an abortion, I can't help but speak out. My heart--along with thousands of others--mourns at the sight of signs that say "I regret my abortion" and for those which read "Pro-Family, Pro-Choice." The signs of the latter nature are usually held by men and women on the Supreme Court steps; their faces are nothing but stoic. How I wish to be Christ to them.

In my mind, the March for Life is of greater importance than protests against the SOA. While I find the actions of those trained by the SOA to be deplorable--including the murder of many Catholics--the legislated slaughtering of innocent infants as promulgated 36 years ago by the Supreme Court encapsulates the "Culture of Death" that Pope John Paul II so ferociously fought against. I am not at all denigrating the efforts to speak out against the atrocities committed as result of the SOA; I merely want to put the 49 million deaths by abortion into perspective.

As I reflected on the Gospels to capture Christ's thoughts on the violations against human life which occur in this country and abroad, the following seemed most fitting, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34). Please join me in prayer for safe travels for the hundreds of thousands traveling to Washington to witness to life, for those who have been victims of abortion, those contemplating abortion, and for legislators--especially our 44th president--so that they may, as Pope Benedict expressed, 

be confirmed in your resolve to promote understanding, cooperation and peace among the nations, so that all may share in the banquet of life which God wills to be set for the whole human family.

Please stay tuned for updates from Washington: one this evening and two tomorrow, the day of the march itself. God bless you.

A New Era and an Old Letter

Today we will witness a historic moment in the history of the United States of America: the inauguration of the first African-American president. Let us remember Mr. Obama and his staff in our prayers this day. There are so many issues which face him as he ascends to this office, and let us pray that he may be open to the promptings of the Holy Spirit as he makes important decisions for our nation and the world. Let us pray also, that he may break his one campaign promise, to pass the Freedom of Choice Act, so that the right to life might be ever more protected and upheld.

But on a different note: Today I will spare you my ramblings, and will instead share an excerpt from a letter of that most holy Saint Ignatius of Loyola, which he wrote to the some Spanish scholastics in his nascent Society. I pray that his words of exhortation, written some 460 years ago might stir the fire of the Holy Spirit in our hearts that we may work ever more zealously for his kingdom as we seek to discern and carry out His plan for our lives. 

Father Ignatius wrote in 1547, 

"But more than anything else I should wish to awaken in you the pure love of Jesus Christ, the desire for His honor and for the salvation of souls whom He has redeemed. We know indeed that, to oblige us to desire and labor for his glory, His Majesty has anticipated us with these inestimable and priceless favors, in a sense stripping Himself of His own possessions to give us a share in them; taking upon Himself all our miseries to deliver us from them; wishing to be sold as our redemption, to be dishonored to glorify us, to be poor to enrich us; accepting a disgraceful and painful death to give us a blessed and immortal life. How extremely ungrateful and hardhearted is he who after all this does not recognize his obligation to serve our Lord Jesus Christ diligently and to seek His honor! 

"If therefore you recognize this obligation and wish to employ yourselves in promoting God's honor, the times you are living in make it incumbent on you to make your desire known by works. Can you find a place where the Divine Majesty is in honor today, or where is infinite greatness is worshiped, where His wisdom and infinite goodness are known, or His most holy will obeyed? Behold rather, with deep grief, how His holy name is everywhere ignored, despised, blasphemed. The teaching of Jesus Christ is cast off, His example forgotten, and the price of his blood lost in a certain sense as far as we are concerned because there are so few to profit by it. Behold likewise your neighbors, images of the most holy Trinity and capable of enjoying His glory whom all the world serves, members of Christ, redeemed by so much pain, opprobrium, and blood. Behold, I say, the miseries that surround them, the darkness of ignorance that envelops them, and the whirlwind of desires, empty fears, and other passions that torment them, set upon by so many visible and invisible enemies, with the peril of losing, I do not say their property or their earthly lives, but an eternal kingdom and its happiness by falling into the insufferable misfortune of everlasting fire. 

"To sum up briefly, if you were to examine carefully the great obligation you have of seeking the honor of Jesus Christ and the salvation of your neighbor, you would see how fitting it is for you to get ready by diligently striving to make yourselves fit instruments of God's grace, especially since in these days there are so few real laborers who do not seek the things that are their own, but the things that are Jesus Christ's. And the more that others fall short, the more you ought to endeavor to make up for them."

Saint Ignatius, pray for us, that we might serve Christ and his Church with undivided hearts, and proclaim the Truth of His love to those we meet today. Amen.

Dr. King

Today as a nation we celebrate the life of the great civil rights leader, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Dr. King spent his life in service of the truth that all men are created with the same unalienable rights, most especially life, regardless of their race, religion, upbringing, or anything else. He worked tirelessly to change the minds of men and women in the nation to realize this truth, even when this meant giving his life. 

As we honor him today, let us not just be grateful for the fact that many of us are off school or work, but let us seek to imitate his zeal for the truth. Dr. King was but one man who changed the way the nation looked at racial issues. He was certainly not alone in this battle (a Catholic bishop in the 50's used the term "Integrate or Excommunicate" in association with the integration of Catholic schools), but he shows the power that one person's witness to the truth can have. And as we begin this week there is a certain fittingness to our celebration of Dr. King's life. He defended the rights of all human persons regardless of race, and this week we, as Catholics and men and women of the truth, are called upon to defend the rights of all human persons regardless of how large or small they may be. We will remember on Thursday the 36th Anniversary of the supreme court case Roe vs. Wade in which abortion was legalized. Whether you are able to join in the march in Washington, or if you are at home, we are all called to witness, in a special way this week, to the dignity of all human life from conception to natural death. May Dr. King's life be an example and inspiration to us that our lives can change the way this nation works, and let us never lose hope in that dream of Dr. King's, that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal' even those littlest ones in the womb. 

Our Lady of Life, Pray for Us!

Saint Gianna, Pray for Us!

I Will Call You Each by Name

I am very pleased to inform you that this is our one hundredth post since we began blogging in September. This blog has, for me, become more than just some words on a website; it has become a prayer, a way of understanding and discerning my call to the priesthood and of spreading the Gospel. Many of those who know the three of us have given congratulations and encouragement for our posts on these pages; one friend of ours was keen to point out that we're writing future homilies. As much as I try not to frequently glance at our counter, I couldn't help but notice that we exceeded 3,000 readers yesterday, something Paul and I couldn't have dreamed of when we decided to reflect on God's presence in our lives. We are but workers in the vineyard, fishers of men, who serve at the pleasure of the Lord, ever-relying on His Spirit for guidance. It's nice to know that there have been many who have benefited from our writing; it is a privilege for us to share Christ with all of you.

With that, we'll put away the Kleenex and get on with the post.

In today's Gospel we hear of John's rendition of the calling of Andrew and Peter. Andrew, as we know, was instructed to follow the Christ by his former teacher, John the Baptist. After realizing that "we have found the Christ," Andrew goes to tell his brother Simon, thus leading Him to Jesus. Most fitting to the mission of Christ, Jesus turns to Simon and tells him:

“You are Simon the son of John; you will be called Cephas” — which is translated Peter (John 1:42).

Jesus extends the same personal invitation to us in our daily lives. He does so to make us realize that His mission--the forgiveness of sins--was not some distant occurrence, but a present reality for each of us. He calls us, invites us to "Come and see," but never forces. However, if you are truly open to His invitation, it will be entirely too hard to resist.

People can at times be ignorant of Jesus' personal invitation, including me. They experience His divine providence at work in their lives, but shrug it off as mere coincidence. They live through miracles, such as surviving a plane crash into the Hudson River, and eventually go back to their lives absent of meaning (not everyone, of course). And, in tellings of other Gospel writers, we hear how Andrew and Peter experience the tremendous miracle of fish. See? He comes into our lives and says, "Peter, come follow me, and I will make you fishers of men." I laugh at people who say that God doesn't care about them or invite them; they're about to get a metaphorical 2x4 to the face. Either that or a boat full of fish.

We can't expect to know what God wants from us if we are afraid to lower our nets for a catch. We won't become His disciples if we're too afraid to say, "You are Christ, Son of the Living God." He calls us just the same, when we're sipping our coffee; while changing the laundry; while we're walking to class; when we're at work; whatever your situation. Won't you follow Him?

Another thought: As we concluded National Vocations Awareness Week yesterday, I can't help but reflect how Jesus uses us as His instruments in calling others. Unworthy as I am--and I mean that--I have been used as one to voice His invitation to serve. Last night for instance, while at the ice rink, I was talking with a guy who's applying to the seminary when I impulsively asked the guy next to him if he'd ever thought of being a priest. He had actually, and I invited him to one of our discernment meetings. I don't know if he's called to the priesthood, but its an invitation to think about it, to pray. We're all invited and called to invite as well. It doesn't matter if we don't feel as though we've been a decent worker in His vineyard or not; all is required is a little act of faith, to kneel down and begin to plant seeds.

Remember that God has called each of us by name. Have a blessed Sunday.

The Father of Monks

Today we celebrate the feast of Saint Anthony of Egypt, who is known as the Father of Monasticism. Anthony lived in Egypt, being born around 250 AD. When he was still a young man, only 18-20 years old, his parents died leaving him alone with his younger sister. It was some months later that Anthony realized that the Lord was calling him to special vocation. 

Saint Athanasius recounts the story of Anthony's vocation to us, "Not six months after his parents' death, as he was on his way to church for his usual visit, he began to think of how the apostles had left everything and followed the Savior, and also of those mentioned in the book of Acts who had sold their possessions and brought the apostles the money for distribution to the needy. He reflected too on the great hope stored up in heaven for such as these. This was all in his mind when, entering the church just as the Gospel was being read, he heard the Lord's words to the rich man: "If you want to be perfect, go and sell all you have and give the money to the poor. Then come and follow me." It seemed to Anthony that it was God who had brought the saints to his mind and that the words of the Gospel had been spoken directly to him. Immediately he left the church and gave away to the villagers all the property he had inherited. He placed his sister in the care of some well known and trustworthy virgins and arranged for her to be brought up in the convent. Then he gave himself up to the ascetic life." 

Anthony was the first of thousands (if not millions) of holy men and women over the centuries to respond with their whole hearts to the Lord's call to the monastic life. He was willing to give up everything for the love of Christ. 

 It really blows my mind when I hear stories such as Anthony's. But if I can be honest, when I read the lives of the saints, and hear about how radically they lived their lives for Christ I often get a little cynical. My first thought is usually something along the lines of this, "that is really cool he did that, but Christ is not calling me to that kind of radical conversion- that is something for the saints." I think that this is probably a natural thing for us to do, but it is so wrong. Because, the fact of the matter is, when we do this, when we make the saints these impossible ideals, models which we can only admire from afar, but never really imitate- we, in our fear and our lack of faith, limit the ability of God's grace to transform our lives. We are denying our destiny, we are reject God's invitation to share in His divine life. 

The saints are not born as saints; as, I once heard it said, "we are all born pagan babies." But through our baptism Christ pours the Holy Spirit into our lives and he invites us to share in the life of the Trinity. He calls each and every single person who has ever lived and who ever will live to this destiny. He calls us to be saints. But our response to this call to Divine Life is only fulfilled by the measure in which we entrust ourselves to Him, and open our hearts to be transfigured by the grace of God. That is the common mark among all the canonized saints which Holy Mother Church has "raised to the altars." All of them, at some point in their lives, made a choice to entrust themselves to Jesus, and to the work of his grace in their lives. For Anthony it was upon hearing the Words of the Lord proclaimed at Mass. For Ignatius of Loyola it was after reading the lives of the saints during his recovery from a battle wound. For Saint Therese it was from the very beginning of her life. The realized that sanctity was not some pie in the sky ideal to piously think about, but it is a real call to which each of us are being beckoned. The Words which Anthony heard that day are proclaimed to each of us, "If you want to be perfect... then come follow me."

On this day, as we recall the life of that most holy monk, Saint Anthony, let us ask the Holy Spirit to give us the strength and the humility to entrust ourselves each and everyday to Christ, so that He may live more and more in our souls. Let us open ourselves today to the incredible things God desires to do with our lives. He may not ask us give up our inheritance as Anthony, but He will ask us to give up our self-reliance, our worries and our pride, so that He may be "all in all" (1 Cor. 15:28)

Saint Anthony, Pray for Us!

What I Owe to the Society

As I reflect upon my education up to this point, eight of my 17 years of Catholic education have fallen under the vast umbrella of the Society of Jesus. I am entirely grateful and completely indebted to the Jesuits for teaching me how to act, think, and pray like a man for others, Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam. Some who are more conservative than conservatism itself might scoff at the influence the Jesuits have had on me, but I know in my heart-of-hearts that, without the Jesuits, I would not be writing this today.

Perhaps the best way to go about showing my appreciation for St. Ignatius and his order is to address three vows taken by Jesuits, and how men who have taken these vows have affected my faith journey.

Poverty

Having been born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I really never had a sense of what poverty was until I attended the Jesuit prep school in town. While I had been incensed at the comment one Jesuit made--that highways are just bridges from one rich part of town to another, so you don't have to see the poor--it's a comment which has always stuck with me, one which has some truth. If we look at the Parable of the Good Samaritan, for instance, those who passed by without deference to the assaulted man were on the "high way," too busy to be concerned with those in need, or unwilling to go through the required cleansing after such contact. While I'm certainly appreciative of the U.S. Interstate Highway System, it was good for the stereotypical suburban white kid to be aware of America's underbelly, and not to zip by without any acknowledgement to those beneath me. Since that conversation I have seen the slighted and realize that, in reality, they are the ones who deserve the expressway to the Promised Land (Matthew 5:3).

Another instance of poverty is the one which Jesuits embrace themselves. One day I was spending time with a few students and a Jesuit; he took us over to the residence to give us a tour. After showing us around upstairs he brought us to the basement where he lived. As he opened his door I thought, "that's it?" He had all of his belongings--which weren't many--neatly arranged; he had old baseball caps from other schools where he'd taught, and a few pictures of family and friends. While my room at the seminary isn't any larger, the thought of that priest makes me think of how I'll spend my diocesan dollars someday. And while there are poor examples in every order, this son of Ignatius embraced his vows, and did so with a happy heart. We don't have to live in the basement of a Jesuit residence to have simplicity, but we can certainly learn from their model of lives which truly emulate the Gospel:"no food, no sack, no money in their belts" (Mark 6:8).

Chastity

While this is a vow which I hope to make one day to my bishop and a life which I try to lead now, I first began to understand how beautiful chastity is through the model of the Jesuits. These men live lives not only of chastity but of celibacy so that they may be more like Christ, the one whom they serve. As high schoolers we saw their commitment to serve greatly intensified by their celibate state. The Jesuits loved us as their children because, well, we were and still are! That's why we call them "Father!"

In his book, The Fifth Week, Fr. William O'Malley, S.J. gives a very candid reflection on his vow of chastity and life of celibacy, one which shows the joys and blessings which uniquely accompany a vocation to the priestly or religious life. Here's what he has to say:

I'm a good man. I am not so ugly that small children scream at my approach. I can drink and tell blue jokes with the best of them. I don't cower in a corner or pull out the exorcist's manual when the talk gets rough or bitter or embarrassing. I'm just like they are, except for two things. In many cases, inexplicably, I am one helluva lot happier and more alive and more at peace than they are. And I'm celibate. How can I be happy when I've freely given up the one thing most of them consider the most important part of their lives? To them I am one exasperating enigma (184).

O'Malley goes on to mention that Christ is the reason for his celibacy. He could not lead the priestly life of Christ without it. The same goes for all the men I've ever known with "SJ" tacked behind their name; they intend on serving as priests, so they choose it, for once and for all!

The vow of chastity also reflects the vow of poverty in that we choose to sacrifice so that we can receive. The celibate priest should not have excessive possessions; they can become distractions from the service in the field. Celibacy is an entire giving of self to Jesus and His Church; "all that I have and call my own" as Ignatius prays in the "Suscipe." 

It's also nice to have regular correspondence with a Jesuit to remind me of the self-giving which is related to chastity. Here's what our own Paul has to say about giving all to the Lord:

Very few people in the Church have the strong upbringings we have had. I think we owe it to those who don't have such great influences to show them what love is, how to serve, and to give them encouragement in their poverty. This is very hard for me because I often want to keep that love to myself, or on the end of the spectrum, ignore that love so I don't have to dedicate my life to sharing it with the world. Does this make any sense?

Yes, Paul. It does.

Obedience

The third vow which is taken by members of the Society of Jesus is obedience. They must be willing to serve anywhere and to anyone, without reserve. It is a life of sacrifice, but one filled with great reward. As an example, here is an account from a biography of St. Edmund Campion, a 17th Century Jesuit martyr in England, shortly after his ordination to the priesthood. He writes to Jesuit novices:

Believe me, my dearest brethren, your dust and booms, chaff and loads are beheld with joy by the angels.... Would that I had never known any father but the fathers of the Society; no brothers but yourselves and my other brothers; no business by that of obedience; no knowledge but Christ crucified (44).

Obedience comes in the shape of a cross. We must bear it if we are to be Christ to others. Many Jesuits have emulated Christ in this manner, giving all that they had, including their lives. Jesus invites us to take up our cross and follow him; these men, some whose blood has been splashed upon the rocks in many a continent, serve as examples to us of a servant's heart.

So; what do I owe to the Society? A whole lot. Some have told me that one great way--especially if I have such a great admiration for them--would be to join their ranks. I cannot join the Jesuits; it is not my calling. Instead I feel called to serve the home front, to be a herald of the Good News here in my hometown. It is to here, among parish priests who exude the same qualities as those great Jesuits, where I am called. While I may not be called to the Jesuits, I am certainly still called to live out the spirit of Christ's "least order," to embrace His Cross. That, more than anything, is what I really owe to the Society.

The Walls of Freedom

I remember the night I finally said "yes" to my vocation very vividly.

 It was the spring of 2007 and I was on home on break during my first year of University studies. I was sitting in my room finishing a book for a class I was taking- it was Thomas Merton's classic autobiography The Seven Storey Mountain (which Peter wrote about here). I sat on my bed reading the last 200 pages of that book, enraptured as he related his tumultuous journey to the Trappists. As the book draws to an end, Merton relates his experiences during his first months in the monastery, and as I read his account there was a line in particular that struck at my heart. As the door closed behind him in his austere cell Merton found peace and joy in what he called "the four walls of my new found freedom." When I read this line I stopped. It seemed so paradoxical that he would find his freedom in a little 9 x 13 cell with only a bed, a desk and a crucifix. But after I thought about it for a second the thing started to make a more sense. I started to realize, in only a confused sense, that freedom means something much more than being able to do what I want to do when I want. 

You see I had been discerning a vocation to the priesthood for a long time. Every since this young acolyte showed up at my parish in seventh grade and invited me to go to the seminary for a summer camp. It was at that camp that I first was asked if I had ever thought about being a priest. It was never something I had really considered before then, but there was a seed planted which has been with me ever sense. In high school I always would pray about my vocation and I would go back and forth about my decision- there were days when I was positive I was going to go, and others when I was sure I would never go. It was always a struggle to really know what God wanted me to do, and so often I felt like He was not giving me any help. During my senior year, finally after so much back and forth and still lacking the clarity I hoped for, I decided that I would go to college and then if I were still thinking about the priesthood after I graduated, then maybe I would give seminary a chance. 

When I went away to school in the fall after graduating I immersed myself in the college experience and I was loving it. I was talking with a great young lady, I had joined a fraternity and I was the president of my pledge class, I was excelling in school, and I was having a blast. It was on the out side a perfect life. However, in the back of my mind there was always a nagging question about the priesthood and the seminary. I started going to adoration on Thursday afternoons for an hour and I would plead with God for clarity and peace about what I was to do. I even remember one afternoon I decided that after I prayed I would flip a coin and if it were heads I would take that to mean that God wanted me to go to the seminary, but after the coin showed heads I just played it off reassuring myself I couldn't decide my life on a coin flip. It was in the midst of this confusion that I found myself reading Merton that Monday in March. 

And at first , Merton's four walls seemed like anything but freeing. I just wanted to be a normal guy, just a regular college freshmen, doing what all my friends were doing. And I thought about those words of Merton I realized that, my life was not really free. True freedom, the Freedom of the Sons and Daughters of God, the freedom which Merton was talking about, is not doing what you want or what everyone else is doing, but it is conforming your will to the Will of God. As human beings created in God's image and destined for an a eternity with Him in Paradise, are only free when we are doing what God created us to do, which is to praise, reverence, and serve Him with the gifts He has given to us. Yet, I realized that my life at college was anything but this. I was so focused on being a normal guy, on being loved by those around me, on being successful that I had shut myself off from the great things that God wanted to do with my life. I had chosen my plan and my will rather than His plan and His will. I had substituted the freedom of the sons of God for the license of this World. And this all came crashing down on me as I sat on my bed that March night. And in that moment of clarity, in that moment of grace I said, ok. 

This was no contact. It was no lifetime commitment to being a priest. It was an okay for God to work in my life. It was a yes to His will. It was a choice. I think I had been so afraid of giving the seminary a real chance because I knew that if I went it meant that those other possibilities would be closed, at least for a while. But, Christ calls us to ONE vocation. The Holy Trinity, has from all eternity destined us for a certain vocation, and has a certain plan for our lives. He has dreams for you which are, as Saint Paul says, "immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine."(Eph. 3:20) As Pope Benedict said to the pilgrims at World Youth Day this summer past in Sydney, "Do not be fooled by those who see you as just another consumer in a market of undifferentiated possibilities, where choice itself becomes the good, novelty usurps beauty, and subjective experience displaces truth. Christ offers more! Indeed he offers everything! Only he who is the Truth can be the Way and hence also the Life."  When we say ok to Christ, when we let God work in our hearts, it is only then that we are truly free, it is only then that we can have any true peace, or joy or happiness. 

And I know that you have probably heard this so many times. I know that I heard it at least 100 times over my years of discernment, and I always played it off as, "yeah-whatever- you are just saying that ." But let me say this- since that yes, I have experienced exactly that- the peace, and joy, and happiness which only a life lived in and for Christ can bring. It has not always been the easiest journey, but my brothers and sisters our life as Christians is not about ease. We are called to say with Our Lord in the Garden, "Not my will, Father, but your will be done." 

As we celebrate Vocation Awareness Week, may we all continue to pray for the grace to echo our Blessed Mother's fiat, to let the Word take Flesh in her Immaculate Womb so that Christ may take Flesh in our lives- that we will be able to say with the Holy Apostle: "I am alive, or rather, not I; it is Christ who lives in me." (Gal 2:20)

Discerning under the Stars

A wonderful Wednesday to all of you! In case you didn't know (like I didn't), we're in the midst of National Vocations Awareness Week. This is a great chance for all those State-siders to promote vocations to the priesthood, religious life, single and married vocations through prayer and encouragement for all who are discerning how they are to lead lives of service to the Lord. For all those outside of the U.S., join us in prayer for vocations for our universal Church!

Discernment has never been an easy task, even for those who have felt a call to one vocation for most of their lives. Even when one has decided to pursue a particular call, feelings of doubt and uncertainty accompany the pressures of living out that vocation, the life in Christ. This perhaps has been one of the most discussed topics on these pages, and for good reason. The more we acknowledge the fact that "it isn't easy" and that discernment requires a total sacrifice to Christ and His invitation, the better servants we'll become.

Discernment, sacrifice, and suffering were not specifically mentioned one evening in 2003 as Paul and I stood in the middle of a opening in the woods, looking up at a brilliant sky of stars. In fact, we didn't really say much at all. Paul asked me about my pending application at the seminary; I told him a bit about the proceedings. We weren't really talkative that night (which is a first); we both kept staring up at the stars.

After some participants of the game of "Capture the Flag"--which we were evading--ran past us, Paul turned to me and told me that he, too, had been thinking of the priesthood. Trying not to show too much joy at the thought of having a best friend to journey with to be a priest, I encouraged him to keep praying. Again we looked to the stars.

As simple as that moment was, it helped me to realize that I wasn't alone in my calling. Sure, I had known other guys through discernment retreats who felt called, but it was nice to have someone among my friends that is. It's hard enough to discern a call in the midst of a world of "me, mine;" I took great comfort in the fact that there was a close friend who could sympathize with me, and in turn could see how God had led me to this point in discerning His call. I guess it didn't feel like I was a lone star anymore, amidst a whole galaxy, searching for answers, for my true calling.

I know that I'm not the only one who has ever felt this way, either. Right now across the world there are countless young men and women (and those who are no longer considered "young") who are searching for themselves. Some of them have considered entering a seminary or a religious order, but are overwhelmed with thoughts of unworthiness. Others have expressed a call to their family or friends but received nothing short of insults and ridicule for such an outlandish notion. And others still (and perhaps this is the group for which my heart pities the most) have no idea that they're called to lead religious orders and be pastors of parishes; they are so saturated with what society wants them to be that they have no room for a few simple words from Jesus: "Come and see." They look about them and see the myriad of stars and end up feeling very, very alone.

Imagine how brightly all the stars would shine if they were formed together into one massive star. Excuse the faulty science (for I know this would be catastrophic), but if each star would rely on the others, a brilliant light would shine across the universe. In the same way, if each person, each a gifted "star" of the Lord, would rely on others to find their true calling, how brilliantly we would shine for Christ as His universal Church! Instead of the daunting task of "going it alone," we should rely on each other for support, encouragement, and even challenge to discover how Christ desires us to build up the Kingdom of God.

Paul, in an email he sent to his parents and superiors, mentioned how wonderful it was to be able to meet up with some of the men from our high school who are also serving in Honduras. He mentioned as an aside how perhaps they might consider their own call to the religious life having seen him, one who was in their position only four years ago. He, too, understands the need to shine and encourage others in their discernment; I hope our efforts will bear much fruit for the Church!

Let us employ this week as the renewal of our effort to promote all vocations, but particularly to the priesthood and religious life. Indeed He is with us, leading us ever more to His side. For, as the greatest promoter of vocations, He numbers all the stars, calls each of them by name (Psalm 147).

"This is the Time of Fulfillment"

I was talking to my little brother, a sophomore in high school, just the other day, asking him how school was going during his first week back from holiday. His answer, I would imagine, captures many of our mindsets as we head back to school and the daily grind after our Christmas breaks: he said, "only 20 weeks until summer break!" 

Perhaps you are a zealous student and cannot wait to get back to the books after being off for a few weeks, but I must say that as I head back to classes I cannot help be share some of his sentiments. I love being home on break, it affords me the chance to sleep a little more, to catch up with my old friends, eat good home cooked meals, and my personal favorite holiday activity-reading for hours on the many pleasure reads which have been pushed to the side in favor of class work. I always feel that tinge of regret as I head back to school, with my mind already formulating the great plans to accomplish once school is over in the spring.

But, I feel that there must be more, and the Lord's words cut sharply when I heard them proclaimed yesterday morning at mass, “This is the time of fulfillment. The Kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the Gospel.” He does not say that tomorrow is the day, or summer vacation is the time, rather this time, and this day is the day of fulfillment. We are not called to love and serve Christ in the future, we are called to love Him in the present moment. It is so easy, especially for those of us who are still perusing our vocations or are in school preparing for a job, to think and dream about all the great things I am going to do for God one day when I am a priest or a sister or a mother or whatever. However, Christ calls us today to do great things for Him, or perhaps not great things, but little things with great love. So as this semester begins, as this new year begins, let us focus each day, each minute, even each second on responding, in love, to Christ's call. Whether that is to be the best student I can, or the best friend or the best daughter or son, or the best trash-taker outer, or whatever things the Lord has prepared for us. Let us do them all, with love in our hearts, and, as that most humble of Societies demands, ad Majoriem Dei Gloriam, to the greater glory of God! 

Extraordinary Time

It was an absolute joy to hear from Paul yesterday! I'm so glad, as I'm sure we all are, that he's doing well and has settled into his ministry. God's blessings upon him as he perseveres!

As for the rest of us, it's back to our regular, ordinary lives. 

Sunday, with the Baptism of the Lord, marked the conclusion of the Christmas season and the beginning of Ordinary Time. As you can see, the family Christmas tree didn't make it through the entire season; it was one day short. Actually, I have to hand it to my dad for keeping it up as long as he did; the man likes to have his space in the family room.

Every year I anticipate the annual ceremony of bringing the tree to the curb; it's filled with many varied emotions: panting and grunts as my dad and I try to unscrew the tree from its stand, even more grunts as we lift it from the stand, cries of despair as half the water from the stand soaks the family room carpet, shouts of caution as we come very close to destroying the porcelain nativity set, and then of course there's my favorite sound of all...

It's the world-renown "We-are-done-with-the-insanity-of-the-Christmas-season" Grunt, in which my father and I drop the tree near the mailbox and my father gives out a bear-like sigh of relief, signifying that he's made it through another season without being completely ruined by the "Santa Baby" and "Oh by Gosh by (Gollies)" which pierce his soul, along with the never-ending onslaught of unbridled consumerism. I'm sure that he's one of many who lets out such a sigh.

While we were cleaning up the pine needles which littered our house (another piece of vengeance from the tree), I went outside and snapped this picture. Our tree laid on its side with a piece of garland still attached, symbolizing the death of another Christmas season. When you see such a sight it's hard not to feel a little sadness, too, even if we do utter sighs of "good riddance."

But why the sorrow? I guess it's because of the unease which accompanies this time of year, this odd time between Christmas and Lent. It's like the time between the end of the baseball season and when pitchers and catchers report; there's some down-time in which everything seems bland and usual. Ordinary, I suppose. 

What I'd like to propose is another way of thinking about this season, the smaller of the two parts of Ordinary Time. Yes, the beginning of another year (or another semester) may be filled with sluggishness or a lack of zeal, but our readings for Mass and our own preparation are anything but ordinary. In fact, they're extraordinary!

Please, hear me out before you close your browser. I know it's hokey, but I don't think "ordinary" cuts it when we're talking about Christ and the beginning of His three years of ministry here on earth. After the Hidden Life and Jesus' baptism--which Andrew spoke of so eloquently yesterday--Christ goes out and proclaims the Good News, that He, the Holy One of Israel, has come! He walked among man and woman like any other ordinary Jew, yet in fact was extraordinary beyond anyone's imagining. Our lives don't have to be "ordinary" either; all we have to do is follow after Him.

While our trees may lie in heaps near our mailboxes, lets make sure we don't throw out our zeal and sense of renewal as well. Join Andrew, Paul, and I on this extraordinary journey!

From the Diaspora

This is Paul writing from Honduras--land of bananas, baleadas, big diesel-fuled pick up trucks, loud Spanish music, and watered-down pilsner beer.

I have been here now for just under two weeks on my "long experience." So far so good. Exhausting, confusing, humbling, but good. No, I take that back, it's great.

I came down here thinking I knew Spanish. I was apparently wrong. Spanish here is often a blur to me. Further more, like in English, they like to use words that don't actually mean what they are supposed to. The challenge of learning a new language mixed in with a new culture, ecclesiology, and city all add up. I am tempted to just be lazy and timid, but that would just add to the challenge. It turns out that the best way to live amid the tension is to embrace it for all it can offer. God will show himself in it, whether or not we ever deserve it. Each morning, amid my usual grogginess, I pray a something that goes like this:

"Lord, help me find you in the streets today. Give me courage, dedication, patience, love. Amen."

I guess if I could compare my experience to anything it would be to a boxer (which is very odd/funny for those of you who have actually seen me). Boxers work out all day, most of the time with no one watching. When it comes to the actual match, they get pretty beaten up, uncertain they will actually win. Finally, though they see some money, it's pocket change compared to their managers, sponsors, and supporters. But, beside all the negatives, they keep showing up, still with that bounce in their step and that twinkle in their eyes.

God is everywhere. I think facing the tensions of our day wakes us up to His presence. We face the day with eyes open, on guard for God. We come to the Eucharist hungry, searching for nourishment. We head to bed thankful to have made it through with God leading us onward.

Blessings on you all these next weeks. Please, if you remember, keep the Church in Honduras in your prayers. You remain in mine.

From Slaves to Sons

"It was while all the people were being baptized that Jesus was baptized too... Jesus himself had now reached the age of about thirty." - Luke 3:21, 23

Wait a second... last Sunday we celebrated Epiphany, Jesus was but a new born child in His loving mother's arms, and now He is thirty?! What happened? Maybe this thought has never crossed your mind, but I have been asking myself this question for a while: Why do we make that big jump from the peace of Bethlehem to the chaotic crowds along the Jordan's banks?

For the longest time I just chalked it up to the fact that we are just lacking the majority of the story line, that those thirty years, known as the Hidden Life, will always be a mystery to us this side of Paradise. Yet, if we look a little bit closer at the mystery we celebrate today, the Baptism of the Lord, perhaps we can come to see that there is in fact a certain fittingness in the placement of the Baptism at the end of the Christmas season.

Over the past weeks during that most joyous season of Christmas we have been adoring in the Cave the sublime humility of the Word Made Flesh. Indeed, the whole world rejoices at the Divine Condescension, that great Mystery of the Omnipotent God becoming a Poor Infant with only the ox and the ass to greet His arrival. This is the heart of the Christmas mystery, and what's more, it is the defining idea of Jesus' life: God, in His infinite love for you and I, comes down to Earth to offer Himself for our Redemption. From the moment the Holy Spirit overshadowed Mary and the Word Became Flesh, to the moment He breathed His last on Calvary, Christ's life was a continual offering to the Father on our behalf. He came down from heaven to share in the messiness of our broken lives, and to bring us back to the Father. How wonderful the Mystery! 

And if we grasp that fact, if we look at Christ's life through that lens, how clear to things become! For this is the key to understanding His Mission and it is the key to understanding this question about the Baptism! For it really makes no sense for Christ to be baptized. We all need baptism to wash away the stain of original sin, but Jesus had no such need- He is Perfect! He is like to us in all things but SIN! So why does He insist that John baptize Him? He does it, not because He needs it, but because we need it. As Fulton Sheen says "When he went down into the river Jordan to be baptized, He made Himself one with sinners. If He was to be identified with humanity, He had to share in the guilt of humanity." How perfectly does this mirror the humility of Bethlehem; Our Lord in His baptism is but carrying out His mission as our Redeemer. He shows the way by descending into the waters, a foreboding of Passion and Death, only to rise again, greeted by the voice of the Father proclaiming, "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased." In this mystery we find a microcosm of what Jesus' entire life was about: going down to raise up.  

Jesus takes our flesh, He associates Himself with sinners in His baptism, and through this He shows us the way to eternal life. Through baptism we enter into the mystery of Christ's Incarnation and become partakers in His Sonship. We die to this world, only to rise again as sons and daughters of the eternal Father. As Christmastide ends and "Ordinary Time" begins, let us focus on living each day within the knowledge that through the regenerating waters of baptism we are no longer called slaves but daughters and sons of the Father. 

As Saint Gregory Nazianzus exhorts us today in the Office of Readings: "Today let us do honor to Christ's baptism and celebrate this feast in holiness. Be cleansed entirely and continue to be cleansed. Nothing gives such pleasure to God as the conversion and salvation of men... He wants you to become a living force for all mankind, lights shining in the world."

I am honored to begin this new endeavor with my brother Peter, while our beloved Paul is away. May the Fire of the Spirit, which we receive at baptism, enflame anew our hearts this day as we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord!

Baptism and New Beginnings

Tomorrow marks the celebration of the Baptism of the Lord and the end of the Christmas season. Upon baptizing the Christ in the River Jordan, John the Baptist told his disciples that Jesus was the one whom they must follow. Andrew, one of John's followers, heeded the words of his master and followed the true Master. Surely Andrew was unaware of the tremendous things he would witness when he answered the Lord's call: "Come and see..." (Matthew 4:19).

As we approach the celebration of the Baptism of the Lord, it seems fitting to introduce another member of The Rock and the Sword. "Andrew," as he will be so-called, is a good friend of Paul's and mine from the north (but still south enough to be State-side). And while Andrew does not have an "SJ" attached to his name, I hope that you will be able to appreciate his reflections as he too prepares to follow Christ as a seminarian and future priest, inviting others whom he encounters along the way.

I cannot tell you what joy it brings me to have another friend join us in our blogging mission here at TRTS. Andrew, too, seems to be excited; I talked with him on the phone for a while yesterday, and he is eager to share Jesus with all of you. I never would have imagined how fruitful this little project of ours would become when I said to Paul in September, "we should start a blog about this kind of stuff." I'm sure Paul would agree, since his response to the idea was: "I was thinking the exact same thing!"

It also, quite honestly, gives me some relief that I will have another to bear the load of this great project; it's been somewhat heavy to carry on my own for the past two weeks. It's very nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of, as well as someone to bring me down a few pegs when I'm not so humble. Paul is quite good at this; I'm sure Andrew will do the same.

We'll hear from Andrew tomorrow. Happy tidings until then!

Take the Muzzle Off!

Well I'm back from five glorious days of silent retreat. The silence was great, the food was great, and the talks by the bishop were fantastic (as were the naps). It was a wonderful time to pray and refocus, to rededicate myself to the vocation to which I'm called.

I know that anyone who is able to make a retreat is blessed indeed; not many people have the opportunity to wave the white flag and head for the metaphorical hills. It's a place to regroup and prepare to be thrown right back into life's struggles and difficulties. I'm so thankful I had the chance to take a deep breath and remember how much support I have from above.

Thanks to all those who kept me in prayer; please know of my continued prayers for all of you. Let's not forget Paul as well, that he might keep up his great missionary zeal!

I'll be back on my regular posting-schedule tomorrow; retreat gives one a lot to think about, so get ready!

Lord, You know that I love You,

Peter

George Bailey Redux

I know I've already posted on this Wonderful film, but wise things bear repeating!

The Christmas season is almost through; upon the Baptism of the Lord (Sunday) the trees will be torn down and Ordinary Time will begin once again.

I get a little saddened by the end of this time of year, despite the cold, the business, the madness on the roads, and all the other depressing parts of the holiday season. What makes me sad is that I often forget that the cheer and glad tidings should be repeated everyday throughout the year. Christ is born, and is with us--here, now!

Guys like George Bailey and I need to remember this when we're down and out: "I want to live again. Please God let me live again." He will, if we trust in Him!

I had a confessor tell me recently that when we sin, it's because we've lost hope. When we hope in the Lord, we'll be able to see that we really have a wonderful life!

And so here's a little reminder as we approach the end of this great season, in hopes that we might remember how blessed we truly are, in spite of all our hardships:

My Friend, the Adventurer

Just like any other 22 year old, my friend decided to go skiing this summer...

On Mt. McKinley.

While he was skiing down one particular part of the mountain, he accidentally fell into an ice crevice, falling 25 or so feet until his skies caught onto the sides. My friend was fine, uninjured, but was now hanging upside down in a crevice whose depth was unknown, on the tallest peak in the United States.

If this was me, there would not be any more blogging. I'd be in my grave.

After catching his breath, my friend let his gear fall onto a ledge beneath him. He then reached for his ice axe--"conveniently duct-taped to my ski pole," he says--and began hacking into the side of the ice-wall. From there he climbed, using the picks on the front of his boots as well. When he reached the top, he told his friend to rappel down and check it out, and to get his pack while he was down there.

A group of us were sitting around a table at our local pub when he told that story. We sat there, mouths gaping, in awe of what we had just heard. Even the former missionary was silent; she couldn't think of anything close to match such a shocking, ridiculous story. But that's our friend, always looking for the next adventure, the trip to some obscure corner of the earth. Sometimes it's hard to believe that we grew up in the same neighborhood.

If only we had such courage, such sense of adventure when it came to our faith. Not in a pious, "Hey, gang, let's say the Luminous Mysteries now!," but a desire to come out of our shells, our comfort zones for a while and meet the Lord without any guise or veneer. Just us, stripped of worries and concerns, ready to meet and follow Him wherever He may lead.

Many of us, confined by work, school, or family, might not think it possible to live such a life, to have a greater sense of adventure. "That's a nice and fuzzy thought, Pete, but I have bills to pay and a family to feed." Or, "Yeah, cool, Pete, but you don't have a huge paper due in a few weeks." While we may not be able to live out our faith to a metaphorical Mt. McKinley, we can challenge ourselves to renew our faith and love for Jesus.

Sometimes I get scared trying new things in my faith; I either think that I'm too unworthy to have a greater intimacy with God or that I'm not ready to live a radical life for Jesus. I don't have specifics to share, just the knowledge that we are invited to explore, to search more and more for Him.

While I never plan on getting stuck in a crevice on Mt. McKinley, I do plan on living a life for Christ, following to wherever He calls me. St. Peter was quite content with his little fishing job, but left his nets in search of something greater--Someone greater. We have all received the same invitation through our baptism--won't we leave our fears behind and follow? If we do happen to fall into a crevice along the way, Christ will be there to rappel down after us, to show us how to climb out. He beckons, waiting for us.

Be adventurers in your faith. If you are, you'll have plenty of stories to tell!

Following Yonder Star

Star of wonder; star of night!

Star of royal beauty bright!

Westward leading, still proceeding,

Guide us to thy Perfect Light!

A joyous Epiphany, everyone! Today we celebrate the magi's journey to see the Holy Infant, to shower the Christ with gifts and praise. There's only a week left in the Christmas season, and there's so much left to be done!

These three magi traveled from the east in search of the one who would fulfill the prophecy of the star which they had tracked and followed. Try as I might, I won't be able to explain the significance of the star as well as others. No one has bestowed the title of "Great" upon me, so I'm going to yield to St. Leo the Great once again. Let's see what he has to say about the North Star:

The obedience of the star calls us to imitate its humble service: to be servants, as best we can, of the grace that invites all men to follow Christ.

I think Leo's words on the star nicely summarize the Universal Call to Holiness, as stated by Vatican II. Let's see what the council fathers have to say on this topic since, once again, I'm hardly a credible source on my own (though I did get a B+ in Fundamental Theology):

In order that the faithful may reach this perfection, they must use their strength accordingly as they have received it, as a gift from Christ. They must follow in His footsteps and conform themselves to His image seeking the will of the Father in all things. They must devote themselves with all their being to the glory of God and the service of their neighbor. In this way, the holiness of the people of God will grow into an abundant harvest of good... (Lumen Gentium, 40).

Christ is that star, everyone. Like the Magi, we must be willing to mirror the obedience of the star--Christ's life of humility and service--in order to reach the holiness which we so desire. Jesus gives us the gift of faith, among many others; all he asks in return is our love, the greatest gift of all.

In our pursuit this holiness, we also must be in search for our true vocation. Mother, Father, sister, brother--yes--but how are we being called everyday to be a light to those wallowing in the darkness, to shine brightly in obedience to Jesus? Will others follow us because of our example of holiness, or will we lead them astray? Let's pray that, together with the Lord, we might embrace a life of holiness; if we do, the gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh will pale in comparison.

For those who have not found their primary vocation: Allow Christ to reign in your heart, and He will shine brightly, thus showing you the path to choose. It's that simple.

Please pray for me in the upcoming week; today I am departing for my annual silent retreat. It's something I look forward to every year (they force me to stop talking, and I readily comply, believe it or not). It'll be nice to sit quietly and reflect for a while, but don't worry, I've prepared a few posts for the following days. Hopefully Paul can find some Internet access and post something for the days that I've missed.

God's blessings to you on this great feast. Keep following the star!

An Act of Oblation

A few years ago I stumbled across the story of a young man, Frank Parater. As a seminarian for the Diocese of Richmond, Virginia, Frank showed many promising signs that he would become a fantastic--or better yet--holy diocesan priest.

Frank's character exuded holiness; he was kind and thoughtful to others, served Mass in the local monastery before entering seminary, and even decided enter the diocesan seminary instead of pursuing his desire to be a monk so that he could of service to the people of Richmond. He was an Eagle Scout, had a warm personality and a great sense of humor; America's boy, to say the least.

Frank was sent to Rome in the fall of 1919 to attend the North American College for his years leading up to ordination. It was in the Eternal City, amidst the relics of popes, martyrs, and mystics, that Frank felt a call to serve in a different way than as a priest. In his "Act of Oblation," he asked God, if it be His will, if he might enter paradise within the following year. Here is a passage of Frank's letter, not to be opened until after his death:

Since my childhood, I wanted to die for God and my neighbor. But if I go on living, every action of my life here is offered to God for the spread and the success of the Catholic Church in Virginia. I shall be of more service to my diocese in heaven than I can ever be here on earth.

Whenever I read Frank's "Act of Oblation," my heart skips a beat. His life was one of service, of complete self-giving to Jesus and His Church. It's then that I remember what my vocation truly is, to be an instrument. Frank knew that he could achieve nothing without the Lord, and realized that he would be of greater use interceding for his people in heaven than on earth. He prayed and wrote these words of humility and submission in the same place where countless martyrs shed their blood for Christ Jesus. And, because of his great faith and trust in the Lord, he died of rheumatic fever in the following year, thus entering heaven to serve his diocese once more.

Believe it or not, we're called to the same level of devotion. I'm not saying we should plot our departure from earth, but we do need to be aware of what God is asking from us as individuals. What does He specifically ask of me, Peter, in service of His Church? Yes, I realize that I am called to be a seminarian and a servant of my home diocese, but there is much more that He asks of us, as Frank realized. Each moment of every day Jesus extends His pierced hand and seeks ours in return. Do we have the courage, the strength to respond to His call, whatever it may be?

For sources of this post and more on Frank Parater, click here. Please pray for the beatification of this great model of faith!

On Legos and Vocations

Oh the joys of being a youngster. I used to wake up on Saturday mornings, grab a pack of Pop Tarts, and make my way to the basement where all of my cartoons awaited me. I would giggle and laugh under the blankets which protected me from the perennial chill of the lower level. I was a boy king, and the basement was my dominion.

Like all things, however, Saturday morning cartoons lost their luster. My new-found passion consisted in piling thousands of little blocks together to form various buildings and sets. Space ships, police stations--it didn't matter. I had graduated from Porky Pig and Donald Duck and was now enrolled in the school of Lego architecture, whose campus was our old dining room table in the corner of the basement. Little did I know, an era was about to begin.

When I first started playing with Legos, my little projects would get the usual, "Oh, that's wonderful, Peter" from my parents. Soon after, however, the remarks weren't just the mandatory response all children seek from their parents; my mom and dad were actually impressed with the various towns, houses, and streets I had created. As a Lego master, I constructed homes and structures which mirrored many of those going up around our city. My biggest feat involved the creation of a football stadium, complete with concession stands and field goal posts. I, in all my building splendor, felt triumphant after completing each project. Legos, in short, were a defining part of my childhood.

As a kid, the priesthood wasn't in the fore of my mind. I never played Mass; Legos were my "Mass." And while I don't begrudge those who pulled out the Wonder Bread and Welch's Grape Juice, I don't think it's necessary to have done so in order to have a calling to the priesthood or religious life. I know that no vocation director would ever use Mass-playing as a prerequisite for admission, but I'm not sure that all young men and women are aware of this fact.

I wonder, to those who look at seminarians and novices from a distance, what we look like. While we're told not to judge a book by its cover, what judgments occur when one hears that I'm a future priest? Do they picture me always knowing my call, never failing, praying incessantly? I doubt they picture the "guy on the altar" playing Guitar Hero with his friends like I did last night. Do they know that I watched the same Saturday morning cartoons as they did, and ripped open the same Lego boxes Christmas morning?

I love it when guys come by the seminary and realize that we're just a bunch of happy and holy guys. They are somewhat shocked when we tackle each other when we're out ice skating, or when we laugh uncontrollably. I had one high schooler say to me, "You guys are so...normal!" You bet we are! And we're being called to serve Christ! When did those two become incompatible? That's my real quandary, folks; how do we promote vocations? How do we help young men and women to realize that Christ is calling them when holiness has been tagged as an abnormality?

During the peak of my fascination with Legos I began to think about the priesthood. No, I never built a cathedral or a shrine, but I did begin to listen to God working within me. When Legos lost their luster and no longer occupied that basement table, Christ still occupied my heart. I didn't do anything special; I simply responded to His call. If Jesus humbled Himself and took the form of man, then He also humbles Himself and calls ordinary kids to be in His person, to take up the shepherd's staff, to embrace the Cross. We must pray that those who are called may respond to his call! They are out there, from all walks of life, just waiting for an invitation to serve!

Just as Christ called Peter while he doing what he knew best: fishing, Christ called me while I was tending my Legos. He is calling you, too, discerner, as ordinary and unworthy as you think you may be. Won't you follow Him, and see what He has in store?

Continue to pray for Paul as he begins his ministry in Honduras. Hopefully we'll hear from him soon!

My New Year's Resolution

A Happy New Year to everyone!

I've always been one to scoff at the hype over new year resolutions; they always seem to end up as futile attempts to change something that's far too difficult or impractical in one's life. I've seen countless people committed to weight loss and more frequent exercise snacking away on Superbowl Sunday. I don't need a new year to spark a change in my life, so what's the big deal?

Maybe I'm far too cynical when it comes to New Year's and its resolutions. In fact, perhaps I should take up a resolution of my own...

Today is the feast of Mary, Mother of God, the day in which we celebrate Mary as Theotokos, or God-bearer. Mary, who trusted in the Lord's plan, bore the Christ who would save us from our sins. Her faithfulness and submission to God is a magnificent example for those trying to unite themselves closer to her Son.

When I take the time to evaluate my prayer life, one glaring mishap is found in my devotion to the Blessed Mother. I most certainly have a devotion to Mary, but there are times when I fall short, forgetting to ask for her intercession. I fail to appreciate her example in the virtues of obedience, purity, prudence, especially when I'm struggling. How often have the angels had to finish my recitation of the Rosary while I drift off to sleep? I think I've found my new year's resolution!

Upon further reflection, I rely on the Blessed Mother more than I realize. When I'm in the midst of a heated conversation, or a discussion about the faith, I find myself reaching into my pocket and clutching my rosary. I'm often dismayed when my keys are the only thing there; they don't have quite the same significance as this splendid sacramental. We give so much sign value to some beads and a cross; there must be something, someone who is attached, ready to guide us through the darkness to the light, the Fruit of her womb. That someone is our mother, Mary. How could we not be resolute in praying through her?

I need to be more faithful in my devotion to Mary so that I turn to her Son in adoration. In the midst of all the pain and suffering she endured, she "held all of these things in her heart," showing that faith is not just something we use like a membership card; it's pervasive and should affect every moment of our lives. Hopefully this resolution doesn't peter out like those I ridiculed earlier!

On this day of our Blessed Mother, I would also like to take the time to wish my earthly mother a happy birthday! Blessings to all in 2009!