Living in a Church Incarnate

My bus rolled through the colorful, packed streets of Progreso, just in time for the 6:30 P.M. Mass. It was Ash Wednesday. I had spent the two previous weeks working with members of the Church in the mountain villages. My boots were still caked in mud and my T-shirt sweat stained.

Mass, unlike most weeknights in the Cathedral, was packed. I sat down in a sea of dark hair, my skinny little head poking up a good six inches above the rest. It was good to be back, and to have so many people around me.

Father Ray, my good friend and mentor, was saying the Mass that evening. I arrived just in time for the Liturgy that I couldn't even tell him that I had arrived from my mission. As he continued on with the mass, my mind began to wonder. What's the point of all of this, God? Why am I a Jesuit? How will I get through this intense life? Why am I here in Honduras and not back serving the Church at home? Questions floated in and out of my head between the incense, bells, and chants. By the Eucharist I was trapped by all the problems of the world, real and artificial.

God, what do you want of me!?

Communion rolled around, and I filled down the isle at my pew's turn. Finally, I made it up to the altar with Fr. Ray standing there in front of me, a smile on his face and the Body of Christ in his hand.

"Welcome home!"

He placed the precious Body in my hands and I had no idea how to respond. "Thank you?" "Amen?" I was surprised by his greeting, but even more surprised what lay in my hands: my home, my nourishment, Christ. "Welcome home," theological issues aside, seemed to make a lot of sense as I placed the bread in my mouth. Though Christ was entering me, more deeply, I was entering Him. I was home.

And then I turned around. Pew after pew after pew was packed with hundreds of Hondurans. Some I knew and many I didn't. Some old and plenty young. Some with faces of prayer, boredom, distraction, or confusion: men and women from all walks of life, together, worshipping the Lord as one community. And again, I was home. I didn't speak their language well, nor did I understand their culture, but we shared the same Body and drank the same Blood. I was home in the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church.

Just as we are Christ's we are each others'. Christ's love is incredibly intimate, yet it is also incredibly universal. It must be shared, and done so with spirit and vigor. Today's Gospel from Mark says:

"Jesus summoned the Twelve and began to send them out two by two and gave them authority over unclean spirits. He instructed them to take nothing for the journey but a walking stick—no food, no sack, no money in their belts. They were, however, to wear sandals but not a second tunic. ... So they went off and preached repentance. The Twelve drove out many demons,and they anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them" (Mark 6:7-13).

Over the past nine months I can confidently say that Peter and I have grown closer to the Lord and His Church, in many ways through this blog. I hope that throughout these months, you have had a similar experience. Our domain name: "http://www.therockandthesword.blogspot.com/" has become a home to us, an Ecclesial niche of faith, hope, and love in a vast electronic world. But what are homes more than bases of love and support from which to jump off into the world? As Jesus commanded his apostles to go out with "authority over unclean spirits," so too, Jesus is asking us to go and evangelize to the world by being models of the Good News to all we meet. We do that rooted in our home, the Church, which itself is rooted in the love and presence of Jesus Christ. This virtual home of ours has been nothing but a humble little tool in God's hand to bring about his love and glory in this world. So strap on your Birks, Chucks, Nikes, or Timberlands and start walking and working throughout His vineyard, in whatever calling the Lord has set out for you!

This particualr blog post is not a "Welcome home," though there are many in our archives. This particular post is just another simple little "Feed my lambs" post. Our blog has been full of them as well. It has been our hope, through the inspiration of St. Peter, to call ourselves and our readers to God's merciful and free love while at the same time, through the inspiration of St. Paul, to call ourselves and our readers to go out and preach the Good News to all the world. In short, we hope that all of us continue to find and live out our vocations. It has been a great ride, but the really exciting thing is that this has been a little pit stop, a pointer, along the great path of Salvation history. A little spec of dust in God's big plan for all of us, and what a graced "spec of dust" this blog has been!

Peter and I would like to extend our deepest gratitude for your readership, interest, and support. I ask, through Sts. Peter and Paul's intercession, that the Father may bless you and inspire you on your way to his Son's eternal love.

Thank you and God Bless!
Paul

P.S. A bit of business: for those interested, though we will no longer be posting, this site will remain up and available if you wish to go back to any posts.

P.P.S. Just to keep things on the fun side....

A rare photo taken in the middle of America of Peter and Paul together on a road trip, discovered after years of being hidden in the bowels of a Facebook photo album.

Helpful Links

Today is the feast of St. Benedict, patriarch to Western monasticism and grandfather to the Benedictine family of religious orders around the world. He was born in 480AD in Nursia, Italy, and established twelve monasteries before his death. He wrote what is today known as "the rule" for men and women living the monastic life. His rule became incredibly popular in the early middle ages and is still used by monks and nuns throughout the world today. I wish to extend a happy feast day to our Holy Father, Benedict XVI, the Church in Europe, and to all my fellow brothers and sisters in religious life.

And now to business...

Before we go off the air, Peter and I thought it would be a good idea to give you some spiritual resources floating out there on the web. In addition to the links we have in our side bar, located below are a few more Catholic sites that may aid you in daily religious reflection. There are hundreds, if not thousands more Catholic sites out there with lots of very good stuff. I encourage you to take some time and look around for something that is inspirational, educational, and thought-provoking.

Enjoy and God Bless!
paul

AmericanCatholic's Saint of the Day
Simply put, this site gives you a brief bio of the Catholic saint of the day.

The Apostleship of Prayer
This site focuses on the prayer intentions of the Holy Father for each month as well as prayer activity throughout the world.

The Irish Jesuit's daily reflections
This site has very insightful daily reflections about the readings from the mass.

The USCCB's daily readings and reflections
The Bishop's Conference has the Mass Readings for every day of the year (type, audio, and video) on this site along with different types of reflections.

Zenit's Church news service from Rome
This site is good for any general ecclesial news coming out of Rome.

2009 Catholic Blog Award Winners
I put this site in here because it has links to a bunch of generally appreciated Catholic blogs and podcasts. I can't speak to many of the winners, but I recommend you test them out.

Creighton University's daily reflections
Clergy, religious, and lay people from the Creighton community put together daily reflections on the readings at this site.

New Advent's Catholic Encyclopedia
Anything you ever wondered about the Church organized in alphabetical fashion. Also, they have links on their front page about recent Catholic happenings around the world.

My Final Bow

I've been pacing around my room for a while trying to think of some epic way of bowing out from this great blessing of a blog, but I've hit a major wall. It hurt my head!

The more I think and pray about the chance to spread the Good News, I realize how it has been a tremendously grace-filled experience. There is no better way, then, to "bow out" than to leave you with the passage that has moved me so often during these posts. It has been the passage which has led me to Jesus more and more.

To set the scene, Peter has just told Jesus of his love for Him three times, mirroring the three times he denied Jesus the night before he died. It is during this scene when Jesus turns to the one to whom he has given much and challenges Peter to leave all his "nets" once again:

Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go." 

He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God. And when he had said this, he said to him, "Follow me." 

Peter turned and saw the disciple following whom Jesus loved, the one who had also reclined upon his chest during the supper and had said, "Master, who is the one who will betray you?" When Peter saw him, he said to Jesus, "Lord, what about him?"

Jesus said to him, "What if I want him to remain until I come? What concern is it of yours? You follow me." 

--He will never lead you astray. Trust in His love!

St. Peter, pray for us!

Free Lovin'

"Jesus said to his Apostles: "As you go, make this proclamation: 'The Kingdom of heaven is at hand.' Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, drive out demons. Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give. Do not take gold or silver or copper for your belts; no sack for the journey, or a second tunic, or sandals, or walking stick. The laborer deserves his keep." (Mt 10:7-8)

Profit margins, feasibility studies, and corporate investments. If you look at the Times, the Wall Street Journal, or the economist, it can seem that our world is nothing more than a market for economic profits and losses. Sometimes that attitude even creeps up into our own lives. How many times have we avoided facing a problem because it would take too long to deal with? How many people have we ignored or disregarded because they are different in any way? How often have we pushed God and His morals to the side because they were inconvenient or "not my thing?"

In today's Gospel we hear Jesus mission His apostles to go and preach throughout the land. They are to go poor, peacefully, and with great trust. Their goal is not to "get ahead" or even to feel good about themselves. Their goal is simply to, "proclaim: the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand." The apple of their eye is not gain, prestige, or comfort. Their focus is walking in the Spirit of the Lord and sharing it with all they meet. If they meet success, great. It is for the Lord. If they meet failure, fine. Jesus said it would be part of the deal.

Christian life is no easy task. We too are called to go out and proclaim the Kingdom of God is at hand. Successes throughout our history are quite evident, but so too are our failures and rejections. Yet we still continue onward, not in fear of "getting it wrong" or even in the hopes of "making it big," but because we are filled with God's free and grace-filled love. We are freely being the people God wants us to be and loving (most) every minute of it.

Last night a few novices and I were sharing the values of both consolations and desolations in this vocation. Contrary to conventional wisdom, desolation is as instructing and grace-filled as consolation, it's just harder to see and not always evident at first sight. The struggles I have had as a novice with prayer, community life, and the apostolate, with further reflection and generosity with the Lord, turn out to be some of the most gifted experiences I could ask for.

Those graces, all graces, are freely given from the Lord. Look, and you shall receive. What a gift--one so great that it can only spill out of us and be shared. As Christ commands, "Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give"

Peter

While in chapel last week, I was praying about the future of this blog when an answer was laid right before me, clear and unmistakable: It has served its purpose.

A part of me writes these words with difficulty; another with profound peace. It has been a great blessing to write reflections about life in Christ, praying with Sts. Peter and Paul along the way. It has been quite humbling, too, to look at our little counter and realize that people are actually reading our posts, simple as they may be. But as I spoke with Paul and realized that he, too, had felt similar stirrings while praying about our efforts here, I knew that what I heard in prayer was not to be taken as a passing thought.

This is not to say that the past ten months of writing almost daily have been in vain; quite the opposite, in fact. There has been a great blessing which has accompanied this project, that of learning how to express the "sacramental moments" in little stories or encouragements. For those of you who know Paul and I personally, we thank you for encouraging us, for telling us how much one post or another meant to you. I can assure you, too, that we were indeed blessed as well.

This is to say nothing of the great blessing of being in contact with my close friends. A deep thanks goes out to Andrew for helping us out while Paul was in Honduras, and for keeping me in line all the while. I will always be grateful to him for being a true "Andrew" and introducing me to Christ in a whole new way. Like some Happy Days spin-off, here is Andrew's new blog as he heads to the North American College in Rome for theological studies.

And then there is my dear Jesuit friend. Who would have thought that a friendship which began as altar boys lighting matches in the sacristy would become one of deep brotherhood, a struggle and a gift that I am just now beginning to truly see the depth of. While I would love to return to the days of listening to Pearl Jam in his garage, I see how much Paul points me to Jesus, and am so blessed to have him with me on the Way.

Most of all, I must give praise to Jesus Christ for all he has done for me through this blog. Through talking and praying with Peter, I realize how much I am like him. Clumsy, failing, short-tempered and not the smartest, I'm hardly the perfect pick for priesthood. And yet He calls me out on to the water, to become a rock of faith, to spread the Good News, and to march back into Rome to be captured and crucified. It took me five years of seminary to realize it, but here it is: I don't have to do it alone. Christ is with me, loves me, and will show me the way. There are many times still when I deny Him (far more than three times), and yet John 21:12 and following occurs again and again and again.

I can't do it without Him. None of us can.

Please know of my prayers for all of you. Please pray for me as I continue down the path towards ordination, always remembering Peter's words of tremendous faith: "You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God."

It is good to be here. 

Peace.

The Last Act

Dear faithful readers...

For a few weeks now Peter and I have been discerning the future of this blog. It was, in a sense, a "double-blind" discernment. Neither one of us actually knew the other had been discerning our future place in the world wide web, that is, until last night when we caught up with one another on the phone.

Peter and I have decided that this will be the final week of posting on "The Rock and the Sword." Our final post will be this coming Sunday. This decision may come as a surprise to many of you, but it is the fruit of prayer, discernment, and communal discussion. I trust that this decision is of the Holy Spirit, and in following His call, we all will grow closer to Christ.

While we have many reasons why we are being moved to "close shop," let me share just one of them with you. Simply put, we are men in formation for the priesthood and religious life, our primary focus should be on forming ourselves to the needs of Christ and the Church. In many ways these past nine months this blog has helped us do that. But silence helps us do that a lot too. So after so many posts we feel it is best at this time to return to silence--to grow deeper in Christ's call for us, our vocations.

That being said we plan on using these last days to lead our companions onward, each day posting a blog that might be helpful in furthering their discernment, companionship with Christ, and engagement with the Church.

Thanks so much for your support! This whole blog thing has been more grace-filled and providential than any of us will ever really know. What a blessing! Thank you.

God Bless You!

Paul

Wisdom Behind the Pallium

Today's blog starts off with, oddly enough, Church fashion, specifically, the pallium. I recently have been reading excerpts from Pope Benedict's writings, one in particular on the pallium. Though it may be something odd to talk about, I feel the Pope has a great approach to the traditions of the Church and how they can spiritually inspire us.

I guess have to start off this blog by briefly sharing with our readers what a "pallium" is if they do not already know. The pallium is a white strip of wool that is worn over any archbishop's shoulders when he celebrates the Mass (see photo above). It first dates back to the bishops of Rome in the fourth century. Many people, if they even notice, have no idea what a pallium is or why it is worn, but like most things in the Church, it is filled with biblical, traditional, and spiritual meaning.

By now I am wondering, with so many very important things going on in the world, why am I focusing on a piece of wool? Because it does a great job of explaining the Catholic Church and it's role in the world. Read on and see for yourself. Below is an excerpt from Pope Benedict's first Mass as Pope in which he brought up the pallium:

...What the Pallium indicates first and foremost is that we are all carried by Christ. But at the same time it invites us to carry one another. Hence the Pallium becomes a symbol of the shepherd’s mission, of which the Second Reading and the Gospel speak. The pastor must be inspired by Christ’s holy zeal: for him it is not a matter of indifference that so many people are living in the desert. And there are so many kinds of desert. There is the desert of poverty, the desert of hunger and thirst, the desert of abandonment, of loneliness, of destroyed love. There is the desert of God’s darkness, the emptiness of souls no longer aware of their dignity or the goal of human life. The external deserts in the world are growing, because the internal deserts have become so vast. Therefore the earth’s treasures no longer serve to build God’s garden for all to live in, but they have been made to serve the powers of exploitation and destruction. The Church as a whole and all her Pastors, like Christ, must set out to lead people out of the desert, towards the place of life, towards friendship with the Son of God, towards the One who gives us life, and life in abundance. ...

His Holiness Benedict XVI--Homily at the Mass of Inauguration of His Pontificate (April 24, 2005)

Do not let all of the smells and bells, clothing and mortar of the Catholic Church fool you. We do not place our trust in them. They are only tools at our disposal to remind us where we should place our trust. The Church does not primarily come from within the stones of a Cathedral, the finest liturgy, the most successful social ministry, or even the greatest homily. The Church comes from Jesus Christ and no other. As the Pope stated, "we are all carried by Christ."

I often wonder how often we as individuals in the Church forget that we, before being anything else, are carried in Christ's loving, gracious, and merciful arms. So often that which should unite us, become methods of tearing us apart. "I can't believe that the choir sang (insert any church song here) during mass. It's so terrible!" or "Why doesn't the Church spend more time with the poor? Why do they only care about fancy clothes and candlesticks?" or "The Church would be a lot better off if they actually taught 'real theology' in their schools." or "Father 'X' is such a hypocrite. He drives around in a brand new Passat while half his parish struggle to get their kids through college."

I am sure you have heard any or all of these types of complaints from fellow Christians and Catholics. Maybe you have said one of them. To be fair, they ring a certain amount of truth. I feel that we as a community of believers should hear and acknowledge the concerns, anger, and questions that our fellow brothers and sisters raise. They are not something to be either feared or mocked. More often than not they come from a deep rooted love for our Mother, the Church, and a desire for her to grow and prosper. The concerns of others should be taken to heart, even if we do not agree with them, otherwise our hearts will grow cold, judgemental, and bitter.

May I humbly suggest, before our concerns (both big and small) regarding the Church take over our lives, that we remember that the world, Church, and God are much bigger than ourselves. May we be men and women of faith rather than pride, because "at the same time it [the pallium] invites us to carry one another." I am my brother's keeper and he is mine. As a Church we can only walk together. Otherwise one by one we strand ourselves in the "desert of abandonment, loneliness, of destroyed love."

Ultimately God is at the wheel. He has command, and always has. And if God is the driver, we as the Church are His navigator. Are we going to bicker amongst ourselves as to which way Christ should turn the car, or are we going to enjoy the view which his Father created and trust Christ will get us where we need to go? Road trips spent bickering are like being locked in a prison cell for X number of hours with no escape. A trip spent in reconciliation, open minds and hearts, and consoling words turn that prison into a blessing. We not only find a friend in our fellow Christian, we find a friend in Christ. We come to trust Him more and desire to continue along with Him, for with him we find life, and we find it in abundance.

photo credit:

Jesus at the Wheel

Pallium

Our Freedom

Today the United States celebrates Independence Day, the anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence in 1776. It is the celebration of America and the inalienable right to freedom, a word whose very utterance fills one with tremendous pride.

This freedom was received far before such a document was created in "foul, fetid, fuming, foggy, filthy Philadelphia," however. It is a freedom which was given to us by God the Father, an act of the utmost love. We must choose to act in accord with His will and plan for us; God cannot make us love Him, though He yearns for us to freely choose His love beyond all else. This freedom, then, makes us realize how much God loves and cares for us!

In a sense, the freedom which this nation proudly waves in the form of a dream, a hope, and a reality, points to the freedom which is given to us by the Lord. There have been times, too, when in our nation's history and our own lives, we have trampled upon the very freedom which was handed down to us. We have made it a slave, not treating it with dignity; we have driven it from its original home, placing other ideals on its pedestal. And, at times, we have even burned this freedom as an expression of what we can do with our minds and bodies, regardless of the consequences. These abuses are not what the Father or fathers of our nation had intended.

And still they are given to us, day after day, without reserve. We are called to exercise this freedom rightly as a sign of our appreciation for this great gift. We are called, to ensure that all our brothers and sisters receive the same liberty as well. By helping others, we give another sign of our thanks, both to God and to the delegates who formed a new nation 233 years ago.

I love this great nation, and give thanks to God for the numerous gifts He has given us. A blessed and happy Independence Day to all! 

PHOTO CREDIT: John Trumbull, Declaration of Independence

Thomas, Who Got a Bad Rap

Today is the feast of St. Thomas the Apostle, the saint who doubted that Christ had appeared to the other disciples after the Resurrection while he was away. We know the story well; eventually Christ appears to them again and Thomas is invited to place his hand into the wound made by the lance, a scene forever immortalized by Caravaggio's masterpiece (above).

So what do you think? Did Didymus get a bad rap?

I certainly think so!

Like Thomas, we believe in all that Jesus has said and done; at times, though, it's hard to believe that such miraculous things as the Resurrection happened---and still occur. One only need go to Mass and see common bread and wine transubstantiated into the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus to understand how hard it was for Thomas to believe that the one who had been crucified, died, and buried, should rise again and appear before them.

It's actually a good thing, then, that Thomas doubted. Now we have a patron to lead us in the midst of our own skepticism, our doubting of what God can and will do in the midst of our lives.

Here's what St. Gregory the Great has to say about our resident doubter:

In a marvelous way God's mercy arranged that the disbelieving disciple, in touching the wounds of his master's body, should heal our own wounds of disbelief. The disbelief of Thomas has done more for our faith than the faith of the other disciples. As he touches Christ and is won over to belief, every doubt is cast aside and our faith is strengthened. So the disciple who doubted, then felt Christ's wounds, becomes a witness to the reality of the Resurrection.

This great saint who doubted at first eventually went on to proclaim the Gospel, as tradition holds, as far as India, so great was his faith after having seen the risen Christ. That should set the record straight; he's not "Doubting Thomas" but "Believing Thomas"!

From Thomas' faith and the continual graces which let us know that Christ is here with us now and forever, we too must go forth and spread the Gospel far and wide. So if you doubt what we profess as Catholics, pray to Jesus to allow you to feel His presence and know His Truth. Ask Thomas, too, to intercede for you. He's been down the dubious road several times before!

Happy feast day, fellow believers!

PHOTO CREDIT: Caravaggio, The Incredulity of St. Thomas

Abraham and Isaac

A little Jewish child, happy as can be goes skipping down the dirt road. A bundle of wood, his badge of honor, lays across his small untested shoulders. Finally, for the first time in his life he gets to be a grown up and help out his dad. The wood is heavy, but his child like pride doesn't let it show.

A distance behind him, his father continues along, his head facing down, a knife in his hand. The closer he gets to the destination the slower he goes. Every giggle, whistle, and skip from his son is a lance in his heart. The father can't bear reaching their destination. He knows it means death.

But he gets there anyway. The sun is high and hot. Only the cicadas are out and buzzing. His son tosses the bundle of sticks on the slate slab propped up on the side of the hill. It has been a long time since the father had been here, but knowing what the he knows, it is still too soon a return.

And for the first time that day, the boy is confused. He grows quiet looking at the deserted hillside. He turns to his father who stands paralyzed by the decision facing him.

"Dad, why are you just standing there!?" The boy lets out a little laugh. "Aren't we making a sacrifice? And after all, Dad, where's the lamb to slaughter? Did you forget it?"

The father quickly turns around as if to look for the lamb they never brought, but as he turns he begins to weep. He can't believe what God is asking of him--that he slaughter his own son, that beautiful little boy of his, the one that he and his wife spent years praying for and trying to have. And now God wants him to kill this little innocent child!? Wiping the tears from his dusty face, he turns back around to his boy. He is broken, humiliated, empty. Nothing but sorrow and confusion fills his mind as he replies,

"God himself will provide the sheep for the burnt offering."

And God did provide, not that day, but hundreds of years later God's messenger came down from heaven and recanted God's request of the father, Abraham, to kill his son, Isaac. Instead, God made of Abraham's descendants a great nation as numerous as the stars in the sky.

And from that nation came a simple carpenter boy, born in the village of Nazareth, who was born at the will of the true Father, God. He called this child Jesus, and he was his only son. Christ became the sheep to be slaughtered, God's only son.

We are big here at The Rock and the Sword about God's love for the world. There are countless ways to talk about God's love alive in all of our lives. But the greatest way to talk of God's love for us is to talk about His son, Jesus, and what he did for us. "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends" (John 15:13).

God the Father gave himself to us, He incarnated himself in the form of a living and breathing man, Jesus. His love is so great that He did not wait for us to come to him, but rather he came to us. And more than just coming to our house, he took the form of a servant, a slave, an innocent sacrifice. What God refused of Abraham and his son Isaac in today's first reading, He asked of Jesus, that all people would know that God is love, saving, free, disinterested love. He only asks that we accept his love, that we come to Him and trust Him. Nothing else will satisfy.

"Why I Like Being a Priest" by James Martin, SJ

This is a blog written by Fr. James martin, SJ, for America magazine. I read through it and really liked it. I have been wanting to post it to celebrate the Year of the Priest but have just now gotten the chance. The article can be found at its original page by clicking here. And on a total side note, happy Canada Day for all of you Canadians!

enjoy,
Paul

Ten years ago today (that is, June 12, 1999) along with five other good Jesuit friends (they’re good Jesuits and good friends), I was ordained to the priesthood during a Mass at church (called—surprise!—St. Ignatius Loyola) in Chestnut Hill, Mass., right on the campus of Boston College. I am tempted to say it was the greatest day of my life, and why not? There are other days that certainly come close—the day I was accepted into the Jesuits; the day I entered the Jesuit novitiate; the day that a little refugee-made-handicraft shop where I worked in Nairobi opened its doors for the first time; the day I met my two newborn nephews. So let’s just say it was one of the greatest.

I had been waiting for ordination for many years, having witnessed, since before entering the novitiate in 1988, many of my “older” Jesuit brothers ordained over the years, and realizing, with each group of Jesuits moving into Holy Orders, that my “class” was moving ever closer. Every year until then, I was amazed to find myself weeping during the Litany of the Saints, when the congregation calls on all the saints—from age to age--to pray for the ordinandi, the men being ordained. And I rushed to receive my friends’ “first blessing,” which they always did tentatively but confidently, if you know what I mean, as if they had never done this before but had been born for it all along--and of course they were.

Actually, I almost didn’t make it to my own ordination. The week before I caught a horrible flu, and one of the older Jesuits with whom I lived, named Vin, generously rushed me to the emergency room here in New York. I was angry! How could God do this to me the week before my ordination? What if I weren’t able to go? What about all those guests? I said to the older Jesuit, “I have to ask you this—why is God doing this to me?” Vin looked at me with mock seriousness and said, “In punishment for your sins!” And we both laughed. What a ridiculous question. God wasn’t doing anything to me. I was just sick.

But when I walked up the aisle on June 12, that scare magnified my gratitude. How good it was to be there.

After the Mass, when we walked onto the steps of the church, we were surrounded by our Jesuit brothers, who--clad in their albs or wearing their clerics or, for the younger ones, just a suit and tie--hugged us tightly and congratulated us, teased us and were happy for us. My Jesuit provincial immediately knelt down and asked for my blessing. And then—behold, as the Bible would say—a few steps down the stone staircase were my mother and father, my sister and her husband and their new baby, along the rest of family and friends, friends, friends from all parts of my life. All the people who had nudged or helped or prayed or loved me to where I was. It was like heaven.

Anyway, since that day, I’ve loved being a priest. Why? In good Jesuit fashion how about three reasons.

1.) Confessions. In the first few months, when I was still learning how to celebrate the Mass--that is, learning not to (oops) forget the Creed on Sundays and remembering to pour the water in the wine, and pretty much navigating my way around the Sacramentary (which seems easy now) confessions were so simple. And beautiful. How wonderful to offer a word of forgiveness and see a weight lifted, sometimes it seemed, almost physically. How wonderful to remember during every confession since my very first one what my theology professor said to our class, “Confession is not about how bad the person is, but how good God is.” How wonderful to be able to say to someone who had been estranged or distanced from the church, or who had not been to confession for decades, “Welcome back!” I could say that!

2.) The Mass. Eventually I got to know my way around the Sacramentary. But as soon as I did I wondered, Who am I, as Mary said to the angel Gabriel, that I can say these words? Who am I that I can pray these ancient prayers along with the People of God? Sometimes when priests celebrate the Mass, as most priests will tell you if you asked, they might get momentarily distracted. (“Did I consecrate the bread and wine?” said one Jesuit in a community Mass when I was living in East Africa.) Me too. But sometimes I feel overwhelmed when I reach certain phrases. “From age to age, you gather a people so that from east to west...” “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you....” “You raise up men and women outstanding in holiness...” Who am I that I am permitted to celebrate the Mass in the Room of the Conversion of St. Ignatius in Loyola, Spain? At the Grotto in Lourdes? At the parish in which I received First Holy Communion? In our community chapel? In convents, in hospital rooms, in living rooms? Who am I, Lord?

3.) Baptisms. There is nothing more enjoyable for me as a priest than celebrating a baptism. Babies are miracles. You know that, right? And welcoming a beautiful little baby—silent, fussy or squalling--into the Christian community means welcoming them into something that they probably won’t understand for a while. It’s like giving them a secret gift that will be opened in many years: the gift of the Holy Spirit, the gift of the church, the gift of fellowship. But not everyone will open this gift right away. Now, like some gifts it might not be appreciated at the moment it is given. But some day it will. Maybe, I think, they’ll open that gift when they’re a child, maybe when they're a little older, maybe when they're college students, maybe not until they're married or until their own children are born, or maybe not until they are facing death. But the gift is there, waiting, expectant, patient.

I wish that more people felt called to ordination. I wish that more people were invited to ordination. Many years ago, when I attended my first Jesuit ordination Mass at Holy Cross College, I remember thinking that I couldn’t imagine being a priest. Ten years later, I can’t imagine not being one. As Thomas Merton said, it seems the “one great secret” for which I was born.

James Martin, SJ