Saturday, August 31, 2013

The Last Word of History

I was sitting out on the balcony the other night, just thinking and being because it was peaceful and cool outside. And you know those times, at the end of the day, when sort of everything and nothing starts running through your head all at once? Well, I was in that kind of a state of being; you know, drinking tea and being all hipster and waxing philosophic in my own brain.

Eventually all these whispers and rumors of "war" in the distance came to my mind and as I thought about all of it, I started to feel very small in this big world.

But eventually I thought about this quote I once read from our Pope Emeritus, Benedict XVI:
Yet, in the sure knowledge that the Lord is risen, we are able to move forward confidently, in the conviction that evil does not have the last word in human history, and that God is able to open up new horizons to a hope that does not disappoint (cf. Rom 5:5).
We all saw images and read the story of the atrocities in Syria, and if we weren't aware already, we are now painfully aware of the horror that has been life in that country for two years now.  And I don't really care what your political views are or what you support - I've heard on every news channel and website that our country may be on the cusp of another war, and war is scary for everyone. Every time I check Twitter there's another breaking news story about another local shooting.  There's violence in our world, violence on our streets, violence in our homes. And if we take an honest look at ourselves, a lot of times there's violence in our own hearts. When you pause and think about it, the world sometimes appears irredeemable. It starts to feel like evil is going to have the last word.  As someone tweeted so eloquently the other day: "Jesus come back - before we blow this dang planet to pieces."

So I was thinking about all of that on the balcony, when everything was so quiet. What does it all mean, to be able to "move forward confidently"?  

It's certainly not that being a Christian makes me immune to danger and harm and physical death.  Take the martyrs as your Exhibit A.  Or merely the fact that, as CS Lewis said, "100 percent of us die, and that percentage cannot be increased."  

No; in the face of evil, Pope Benedict said that we move forward confidently, "in the sure knowledge that the Lord is risen."

Fellow Christians, it doesn't matter if the world appears irredeemable; Christ has redeemed it. We can sleep in peace at night, even with war rumbling in the distance, not because we can't die but because Christ is risen.  We know that physical death is not the greatest evil - nor is it the end.  We know that Christ is the Prince of Peace and in His Kingdom there will be no war, no oppression, no sin, and no more tears.  And we know this hope will not disappoint.

It doesn't mean we are excused from praying and working for peace here on Earth.  Definitely not! In fact, our sure knowledge and hope should lead us to a tireless pursuit and effort towards peace.

What it means is that we have nothing to fear. In the words of the late, great JPII: "Be not afraid!"  He has already won the battle. Love is stronger than death. And Love Himself - the Prince of Peace - and not evil, will have the last word of human history.

Mary, Queen of all nations, pray for us.

Sunday, August 25, 2013

For I Know the Plans I Have for You

First of all, I haven't forgotten about blogging! On the contrary, I've had ample life material to reflect upon and plenty of funny stories to share.  No; my school is a victim of the same bad-internet disease that seems to plague all Catholic institutions (at least the ones I've attended), and so I haven't had access to the internet in order to post. As it is, I'm on a public computer right now to write this post! I've been trying to get internet access for over a week now, to no avail. More updates on my internet saga to come. Try not to fall out of your seat in expectation.

So, life status update: I am currently semi-unemployed (it's complicated, but I won't explain it - for our purposes, I'm basically unemployed, temporarily).

Despite the fact that I knew this was the best choice for right now, and the fact that God has been working out everything, down to the last tiny detail, and even the fact that I'll eventually be employed and I'm really excited for what's to come... still this is not easy for me.

I've been in this state for all of 5 full days now, and it's already taking its toll on my self-esteem. To be honest, there's even a part of me hesitating to post this because it's hard to publicly admit to unemployment! Silly, right? It also didn't help that the same day I completed my previous employment, the seminarians all went on silent retreat and lurked silently around the campus like something out of a zombie movie. (I have since deepened my resolve to find more friends who aren't seminarians.) As a result, this week I've found myself sounding like a child 2 weeks into summer break: "I'm bored!"

And the other day, as I was complaining to my best friend (God bless her) about it, I said, "I just don't know what I'm going to DO with my life when I'm unemployed!"  Her simple but profound response? "Live it. Because it's going to keep moving forward whether you do or not." 

Well... yes. That's true. Oh wait, what was the purpose of this blog again? To be less anxious about the future and enjoy the beautiful present God is giving me right now? To find Him in the every-day? To live fully and be fully alive? Oh, yeah. Right. That.

If I completely ignore the fact that I'm technically unemployed and just look at all of the other blessings, here's what happened this week:

  • I was able to pray the Office, with coffee, by my window - one of my favorite things to do by myself, and something I rarely have time to do under normal circumstances. And I was able to take as much time as I wanted reading it.
  • I read a whole book in a day! I haven't done that in years. And I read half of another one. Neither was for school. 
  • I stopped in to see my family more than once this week. Since the time I have left with my grandparents is inevitably running short, I treasure every extra minute I get to spend with them. This week I got plenty of extra minutes.
  • Friends came into town, and I spent an afternoon and evening in the city with some of my favorite people. And, bonus, the Cathedral parking lot was open so I didn't even have to pay for parking.
  • I went kayaking with a friend, something we've been talking about doing for a long time now. And he's about to leave for a semester in Rome, so it's probably the last I'll see or hear from him for awhile!
  • I was able to take a quick trip to Michigan to see friends, stayed with a dear friend whom I don't often get to see, and had an incredibly blessed time - even though it was short! And the drive back was a perfect windows-down, music-blasting, green-tea-drinking kind of drive.

Am I blessed, or what?? And this isn't even the whole list.

I'm not faulting myself for struggling with unemployment; it's hard! And it's funny, because we always complain about not having enough time and wanting to just "do nothing" for a day - but the reality is that "nothing" isn't all it's cracked up to be and nobody likes unemployment.

But I did sort of forget to look for God in all of it, and that's my challenge to myself for the rest of the time of this sort-of-unemployment, however long it lasts: 
To live life well and fully, and still look for God in the every day, because He's there and He's asking things of me and He's showering blessings on me in some kind of torrential downpour, if I only open my eyes to see it.  And to be confident that I'm not defined by what I do. He's still the abundant life I'm looking for, loving me completely - employed or unemployed.

Because, to quote Bl. John Paul II: "We are not the sum of our weaknesses and failures; we are the sum of the Father's love for us and our real capacity to become the image of his Son."  We belong to Him, and He knows the plans He has for us.


Great friends, great city :)

Saturday, August 24, 2013

#mylifeatseminary

The seminarians are back! This campus was pretty dead after summer school ended, and I've really missed having people around. I'm excited to see everybody again! 

Since they've just returned and the school year is about to start, this seemed like an appropriate time to begin my #mylifeatseminary series. Living on a seminary campus makes for some interesting and sometimes hilarious life stories and experiences, so I thought I'd share a couple of the shareable ones every once in awhile. (Maybe I'll write a book someday) ;)

For future reference, though the stories aren't scandalous in the least, I'll be keeping the identifying details to a minimum; they may have happened last year, they may have happened in the summer or this year, and none of the names are accurate. 

#mylifeatseminary: Papal Excitement

I try to keep up to date on current events.  I follow CNN and BBC News on Twitter so I know what's happening in the country and the world. It's the same with Church news, and I stay on top of the Vatican News website so I know what's happening in the Church. I'd say I'm fairly on top of things. 

But I've found that there are few things more reliable for quick information, especially on Church matters, than the Seminarian Network. 

When Pope Benedict stepped down from the papacy, it was huge news for everyone and the media went nuts. But before CNN, EWTN, or even News.va on Twitter could tell me about it, I received a 5 am text from a seminarian informing me that the Pope had resigned. Only a few things were even out on the news about it by that time!

At breakfast, lunch, and dinner, before the news was even asking these questions, the guesses over what Pope Benedict would be called, when a conclave would be held, and who would be elected had already begun. I think the term "[Catholic] March Madness" could have been accurately applied to the pre-conclave atmosphere. 

The Holy Father was elected on a Wednesday afternoon. On Wednesday afternoons, I had a class on the first floor and the entire 1st Theology class was immediately above us on the 2nd floor. I wasn't watching any of the live cameras because I was in class, but I figured the Pope wouldn't be elected that day anyway and I had signed up for "PopeAlarm" - an app that would text me as soon as there was white smoke - so I wasn't worried about missing it

About 5 minutes into class time, the outside door of the theology building crashed open and through the crack of our almost-closed door I saw someone go sprinting by. Next, I heard feet pounding up the stairs and someone yelling, "school is cancelled, school is cancelled!!" followed by the scraping of chairs and an earthquake sound in the room above us. 

Well, I thought, there must be white smoke! Checked my phone: no text from PopeAlarm. But I quickly looked up the news, and sure enough: white smoke. 15 minutes later, I received a text from "PopeAlarm" telling me that a Pope had been elected. 

Who needs PopeAlarm when you have seminarians?

School wasn't cancelled, by the way. Wishful thinking on his part. 
#mylifeatseminary

Monday, August 12, 2013

Like a Thief in the Night

Over the weekend, the beloved associate pastor at our parish passed away rather suddenly.  In his office they found the homily he had written for Mass on Sunday, and the other priests decided to read it as the homily for each of the Masses.  It was so beautifully apropos, and it has been on my mind pretty much ever since.

In case you've forgotten the readings, here's a link to them.

I couldn't possibly cite direct quotes for you, but he had written about preparedness.  Death, he said, comes in many forms - slow, sudden, natural, tragic, late, too soon.  But no matter what form it takes, it often catches us unprepared.  We frequently act as if the Lord waits to come for us until we have our act together, until we've accomplished all we want to accomplish and checked all the items off of all our lists, until we decide that we're good and ready to be done.

We also act as if, since we await the second coming, the Lord is not present here with us now.  As if he is delayed in coming and we are living in a world where God is distant, and therefore a world where our actions have no consequence, where the people we encounter are just that: merely people we encounter, and the things we do affect us alone. We act as if God is not present in every. single. thing. that we do and every. single. person. that we meet, and as if the Kingdom of Heaven is not at hand.

And so when the Lord comes, as he inevitably will to each of us, we are caught off guard. And it doesn't really matter whether or not we had a long illness beforehand to give us a heads up.

But what if we were to live every day in the reality of the Lord's presence?  If we were to see him with us in our neighbor around the corner or in our family at home or in the cashier at the grocery store, then maybe we wouldn't be so surprised when he came the last time for us.  Maybe we won't be so shocked when he comes in glory and everything is brought to light and nothing remains hidden.  Maybe we'll be the servants "ready to open immediately when he comes and knocks."

Anyway, this is what I've been chewing on since Mass yesterday.  Do I "sojourn in this land by faith" like Abraham? Do I live in the reality of God's intimate presence, nearer to my own heart than even I am? Do I see Christ everywhere around me, in the people I encounter and the things I do? Would I be surprised if he came today? How can I be the vigilant servant? He's pleased to give me the Kingdom; am I as ready and pleased to receive it?


May Fr. Tom's soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.


Monday, August 5, 2013

The Love of the Heart of Jesus

If we had not the Sacrament of Orders, we should not have Our Lord.  Who placed Him there, in that tabernacle? It was the priest. Who was it that received your soul, on its entrance into life? The priest. Who nourishes it, to give it strength to make its pilgrimage? The priest. Who will prepare it to appear before God, by washing that soul, for the last time, in the blood of Jesus Christ? The priest - always the priest.  And if that soul comes to the point of death, who will raise it up, who will restore it to calmness and peace? Again the priest. ... The priest has the key of the heavenly treasures; it is he who opens the door; he is the steward of the good God, the distributor of His wealth. ... The priest is not a priest for himself; he is a priest for you.  -St. John Marie Vianney, the Cure d'Ars
Technically, today is Sunday and a celebration of the Resurrection, and not any other feast day. BUT, August 4th is the feast day of St. John Marie Vianney, the Cure d'Ars: patron saint of priests.

And if you know me at all, you know that I love the priesthood!  Good thing, too, because as you'll also know, I happen to spend a very significant portion of my life around priests.

Considering it's really late and the feast day is almost over, this will be brief - but I couldn't let today go by without reflecting on the incredible blessing I've been given in the way I've experienced the priesthood. I'll just share a little bit of it.

In the last few years of my life, I've gotten to know many priests - it's a side effect of studying theology, working for the Church, etc. But nothing quite compares to living at the seminary for the past year.  Studying alongside priests, living near them, and actually becoming friends with some of them has been food for much thought and reflection and prayer in my time here. It's been an unexpected blessing, getting to know the priesthood in this capacity - knowing, all over again, that they are ordinary men whom God has called to something absolutely extraordinary. 

In the classroom, we are colleagues - equals, learning the same thing, struggling with the same professors, complaining about the same papers, and about chanting the office; in the residence, we're neighbors - men and women (er..woman. singular. unfortunately.), bumming around, relaxing, hanging out, working out, running errands and coming home; we are also friends - we laugh, joke, eat, drink, and hang out together.

But when we go to Mass, it's another story. It's not that I'm not aware that they are different from me in these other situations, but something about being the only layperson at Mass in our tiny chapel, when I'm the only person kneeling at the consecration because everyone else is a priest, standing, consecrating; and I hear the same people I study with, live with, eat and drink with, saying "This is my body...This is my blood..." and a few moments later I receive Our Lord... Well, then I begin to understand what St. John Vianney was saying in that quote above.

St. John Vianney also said: "The priesthood is the love of the Heart of Jesus." The one thing necessary in my life is Jesus Christ, and what I've realized so intensely this year is that, because of the priesthood, Jesus Christ is the one thing that I will never be without.  Thanks to priests, I have access to the Sacraments. I have access to Christ in the Eucharist. I can encounter Him and His mercy in confession. I'll have His grace in my marriage. My children will become heirs of the Kingdom through Baptism. God-willing, at the last moments of my life, God's grace will be mediated to me one final time before I see Him face to face. All this through a priest.

Of course, priests are far from perfect, both collectively and individually; they are human, after all. But Christ said He wouldn't leave us orphans, and He has not. He said He would be with us until the end of the age, and indeed he is. The priesthood is indeed the love of the Heart of Jesus, and the priest is not a priest for himself, but for you and for me and for the entire Body of Christ.

So pray for priests, and pray for seminarians! They need it, and we need them.
St. John Marie Vianney, patron saint of parish priests, pray for us!
Mary, mother of priests, pray for us!



Saturday, August 3, 2013

#nofilter


Glory be to God for dappled things--



For skies of coupled-colour as a brinded cow;


For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;


Landscape plotted and pieced -- fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim;






All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise Him.





"Pied Beauty." Gerard Manley Hopkins.