Bible Verses No. 2

2. Philippians 1:1-11

Philippians 1

¹Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus,
To all the saints in Christ Jesus at Philippi, together with the overseers^a]">[a] and deacons:

²Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Thanksgiving and Prayer

³I thank my God every time I remember you. ⁴In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy ⁵because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, ⁶being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

⁷It is right for me to feel this way about all of you, since I have you in my heart; for whether I am in chains or defending and confirming the gospel, all of you share in God's grace with me. ⁸God can testify how I long for all of you with the affection of Christ Jesus.

⁹And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, ¹⁰so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, ¹¹filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.

This is more of a sentimental than theological favorite of mine. It is a beautiful blessing given by Paul to his beloved brothers that epitomizes how the words of the Epistles spoke to the budding early Christian communities as well as the persistently-pilgrim Church of the future, which includes us.

Here's the story: When I went on Kairos XLIII (43) in November 2006 [wow, I'm old], I received in my envelope of joy a letter from good ol' Father Corey. He offered kind words of affirmation and encouragement, with a PS blessing simply to read this passage as a prayer from him to/for me. I went to my desk, got the Bible, and read it right then. I was delighted and took the words to heart as a very fitting prayer for me at that point in my life, especially in the height of Kairos, and for my continuing faith journey. The night ended with more tears of joy, wonderful letters, and peaceful storytime and sleep. The next morning, I woke up tired but feeling good. Downstairs in the common area, co-rector Kate Schwarz asked me to do a reading for morning prayer, and of course, I said I would (I love lectoring). When we got to the chapel and she handed me the sheet, I was shaken in a positive way to see that it was the very same passage Corey had given to me. It further emboldened my proclamation of the Word and solidified this reading's place in my heart.

I love the way this passage links the mystical Body of Christ together. We are the Universal Church, and we are always united as Christ's Body by this social tie as well as the conjugal union between all of us and Jesus in the Eucharist.

Paul's plight as a prisoner helps stress how nothing can sever these ties that bind Christians together in Christ. Through faith in Him and the love He inspires, we can remain united. Through our prayer and hope, we remain together even when physically we are apart.

So this passage serves as a widely helpful prayer for us when we are separated from those we love by distance, business, or even death, and it provides for us a way to use Paul's words as a blessing to those we cannot be with in person; just as Corey offered it to me, so I offer it to all of you:

I thank God whenever I remember you.
I long to be with you in the love of Christ.
I pray that you may grow in Him until you meet Him for all time.

A Few of My Favorite Things: Bible Verses No. 1

'Bout time to get back on here and write again. I am definitely not in a great place for eloquence being on break, relaxation, and increased TV watching, but here goes. The next few posts are gonna be offerings of some of my favorite bible verses and what speaks to me about them. So, number one...

1. Gamaliel, Acts 5: 38-39

A Pharisee named Gamaliel, a teacher of the law, who was honored by all the people, stood up in the Sanhedrin and ordered that the men be put outside for a little while. ³⁵Then he addressed them: "Men of Israel, consider carefully what you intend to do to these men. ³⁶Some time ago Theudas appeared, claiming to be somebody, and about four hundred men rallied to him. He was killed, all his followers were dispersed, and it all came to nothing. ³⁷After him, Judas the Galilean appeared in the days of the census and led a band of people in revolt. He too was killed, and all his followers were scattered. ³⁸Therefore, in the present case I advise you: Leave these men alone! Let them go! For if their purpose or activity is of human origin, it will fail. ³⁹But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop these men; you will only find yourselves fighting against God."

Gamaliel is a Pharisee, preaching mercy to the Christian missionaries in the early Church. He speaks from the authority of his role and as a man of the Law. But his words are not the doubt and hypocrisy so often heard by these men in the New Testament. Gamaliel speaks wisely and suggests open-mindedness in discerning the intentions of people. He defers to God, knowing that those in line with God, doing His will on earth, will endure with God's blessing and Providence.

There is so much good stuff going on here. I love the basic litmus test that this verse sets forth. Many people can claim divine rights, origins, and blessings, but only those who are genuine and honest will endure in their causes.

The difficulty in this principle is that it doesn't kick in instantaneously. Just as the righteous ones will endure over long periods of time, it will often take long periods of time for erroneous and misled groups to sputter out. It's a difficult reality because one might hope people claiming God's authority disingenuously would be eradicated quickly for their deceptions.

Perhaps these groups have something offer as well? Does Gamaliel's statement allow for limited success by those who carry at least some proportion of honesty and piety? God foreknows all that transpires, and aware of evil acts before they happen, He already knows what good He will make of those actions. Such misguided groups undertake their activity freely. Although their ends are not completely good and they may be destined for failure, God is able and acts to find or make good in/from all things. Is there maybe some relation between the endurance of certain institutions and their honest direction towards a God-befitting end?

Conversely, the Church has endured and grown since its establishment by Jesus on the rock of Peter. An institution of God and for God that has not been disintegrated because of its true divine origin. The Church continues to develop and assemble believers into the Body of Christ with Jesus as its head. Those who fight the Church fight against God; though the Church is comprised of fallible humans, it is guided by the Holy Spirit that orients the Body towards it proper end. The Church remains prominent and universal because its charism and origin are righteous and of God. So we who belong to it are not fighting against God but with Him, behind Him, and serving Him as our head and protector.

Quick Post

a simple exhortation I found while I was thumbing through City of God to write my paper on how he uses imagination (intentional, spiritual, mental reflection) to draw out clearer theology on pre-Fall and post-Resurrection life...

"Since no one is evil by nature, but anyone who is evil is evil because of a perversion of nature, the man who lives by God's standards has a duty of 'perfect hatred' towards those who are evil; that is to say, he should not hate the person because of the fault, nor should he love the fault because of the person. He should hate the fault, but love the man. And when the fault has been cured there will remain only what he ought to love, nothing that he should hate" (Book XIV, Chapter 6).

Kind of coarse language, but a wonderful exhortation to despise sin yet love the sinner. Once they repent and grow in love, the sin vanishes and only the person, completely deserving of love having been made by God in His image, remains.

Immaculate Conceptions

I enjoyed the setting of the 5:15 mass observing our holy day of obligation for the Immaculate Conception of Mary. The Glee Club's choice for the preparation song wonderfully conveyed the generosity and purity of Mary through their gift of music and was perfect for the occasion of the feast.

As I heard the Gospel reading of Mary's accepting the divine commissioning to conceive and bear the Son of God and drifted off away from the priest's homily, I could not help but look past our Great Altar to the shining statue of Mary elevated high above the Lady Chapel. In this case, the icon did just as it is meant to--not to bring to me to false worship of Mary as a God but rather properly remind me of a greater reality and bring me to prayerful reflection of it.

Mary was immaculately conceived to be without sin and without that inherent corruption that plagues all other humans so that she could purely bear Jesus Christ. How does that fit into our university? We are an institution and Catholic community founded in her name and under her protection. What, if any, relation can there be between our origins and hers? between her role and ours?

I am not going to conjecture that the start of our university was free of original sin or that our founders had completely pure intentions, for however noble their hopes and dreams they were still human and were not full of grace as Mary indeed was. However, in dedicating the university from its start to her name and protection, Fr. Sorin and company (though they founded ND in 1842, and the Immaculate Conception, though believed by some, only became dogma in 1854) likely were aiming to ground their venture in this idea-- that a Catholic university could strive and pray for abundance of grace so as to help peel away some of the usual temptations and weaknesses of humanity and society and orient the university of Our Lady to a righteous end.

The result is a robust, flourishing, vibrant university community founded and grounded in Catholic faith, values, and worship. Although none of us are God's chosen handmaid and none of us are so full of grace as to integrate or perfect our wills, a kind of Incarnation is present here. The Word was only made flesh once, in the Incarnation in Mary's blessed womb, but here at Notre Dame we perpetuate a community that seeks to summon the grace Mary received in order to allow Jesus to become present in us and our community and continue to change the world.

Jesus will not walk the quads and hang out in dorms in the same way he might have in His time walking on earth, but now we are Christ's body, his hands and feet. We assemble as the Body of Christ in the mass, in prayer, or even just where two or three are gathered in His name, and we find sustenance and renewal in taking His Body (and pending H1N1, His Blood) and being His Body until He comes again.

Christ has no body now but yours; no hands but yours-- here on this earth, yours is the work to serve the joy of compassion.

May we seek to have the grace of Our Mother to be together as the Body of Christ, receive His Body in Eucharist, and live as His hands and feet until He comes again.

My Prayerful Image of God

Over silent retreat, in my hardcore struggle to let go and let God, I doggedly pursued feeling God's love for me independent of my world and my life and my faults. Amid a weekend of silence, mental noise, and naps, I found a fruitful image of God through the help of Scripture and reflection.

"I was like those who lift infants (or in my case, a grown person) to their cheeks; I bent down to them and fed them" (Hosea 11:4).

I internalize this image by walking through a few short steps of meditation and centering:
1. I think of myself as looking upward, as if to my dad when I was younger, and wanting to be lifted up.
2. I am somehow affirmed by who I look to (God the Father), and he reaches down to me.
3. He reaches down and takes me under my arms, and I meditate on the feeling of being lifted up, trying to really feel the pressure of someone reaching into my armpits and lifting me.
4. I meditate on being lifted up and center myself on the idea of God holding me up, relieving me of pressure on my knees and legs and letting me rest.
***The high point and destination of this meditation is resting my head on God's shoulder, putting my hands and arms on/around Him, and considering the amazing position I am: with my face turned towards the Father, I am so near to the "ear" of Him, and His "mouth" is so near to my ear.

This is the way I bring myself to try to be more intentional and focused in the effort to talk to God and listen to Him.

Original, Explained, and For Beginners? (Comments encouraged)

I'm gonna try to keep this short because it is an interesting issue that I raise more for the purpose of fostering thought in people who read this rather than drawing out my personal opinions to a deep extent.

The teaching body of the Church is one of the luminous gifts we have as Catholics. The Holy Spirit leads the whole Church so that it may serve rightly as Christ's body on earth. The Church produces great quantities of documents with high quality of teaching and enrichment for our faith. However, I perceive a definite disconnect between the primary products of their faithful work and the reception of it by the faithful.

Encyclicals, the Catechism, conciliar documents, and all the rich library of articulated teaching is a source of explanation and support for our faith journey. It is an integral part of the faith along with interpersonal contact, the social community of the Church, the Scriptures, etc. I feel that the richness of these resources--the hard work of our Magisterium and the diligent reflection and prayer their work entails--could be utilized more fully, more often, and more effectively.

I would offer the example of the Theology of the Body as a way that the Church could attempt to make its teaching more accessible. John Paul II gave dozens of eloquent sermons developing a theology on sexuality that helped draw out how to love and live rightly and embrace one's sexuality as a gift from God. Those sermons are intellectual, dense, and complex. West studied them hard and produced a book to explain JP2's "sexual revolution". He composed a 500-page-or-so volume called "Theology of the Body Explained" to offer a simplified, somewhat condensed version of the teaching. West even continued, writing a 125-page-or-so version called "Theology of the Body for Beginners".

How is this a model for Church teaching? West left the primary source unblemished, and through his work, he probably increased the amount of people who were aware of JP2's talks, who referenced them, and who read them. In addition to the original words of the pope, West offered a more vernacular, synthesized version and also an introductory version. He did not change the teaching or analyze it (he does offer some examples and scenarios for illustrative purposes, but he does not skew the teaching). Rather, he provided different ways to access the teaching. The important element is that JP2's original teaching remains intact and is illuminated by the rehashing and brought to the eyes, ears, and hearts of more hungry believers.

What if the Church could adopt something like this? Even if not institutionally, it could begin locally. Perhaps it starts with a concerted effort to create intentional, focused reflection/discussion groups of lay or ordained people under the guidance of a Church official well-versed in the teaching to produce a more vernacular or accessible version of some Church document. Could this work as something the Church adopts with a mechanism for Magisterial oversight and some way to assure the Spirit's guidance, orthodoxy/accuracy, and maybe through that create versions of Church documents at different levels of accessibility and understanding that retain the authority of the original document?

In a Lull

As partially evidenced by the lack of posts, I would describe my current spiritual state as a lull. It is not a period of doubt or diminishing faith or a disappearance of love of spirit and the Church. I simply am lower on energy, focus, and activity. I am also not sad or depressed; it's not an emotional low but rather the inner equivalent of a physical tiredness.

I find myself more tired when it comes time to prayer near the end of day before falling asleep. I don't have the killer instinct and edge when it comes to really pushing myself to be fully diligent in prayer. I have been less active in reading off the back of my hand to myself and moving to stop-think-and-pray during the day.

But by no means is this disappointment. One of the things I know and believe strongly is that I (and we) am strongly limited in my abilities and reason; I am a very gifted child of God, but I am ultimately human. I will have weaknesses, valleys, and lulls.

Silent retreat taught me reinforced in me that God gives you what you need, even if that is something simple or seemingly frivolous, like a nap. After a few months of heightened spiritual activity and conscious action, the lull is no surprise-- it's both a result of that and could be kind of a reward for the effort. This is a period where the growth and development within me has to sustain me while I am low-energy and a bit spiritually tired.

I know I will bounce back up. For now, I'll lean back on my old favorite from Josh Ritter's song "Good Man":

We both have dry spells, hard times
in bad lands-- I'm a good man

A Silent Weakness Found in the SIlence

The processing continues in the aftermath of my silent directed retreat. There are many layers and levels to things I thought, felt, and experienced, but the major result of my experience is this: my relationship with God independent of my life and world (including my friends, their actions, my actions, other people, etc.) is pretty weak, and I struggle to find and feel God's love for me.

This sounds bleak, but it really isn't. My spirituality is dynamic and always growing, so it is good for me to find and embrace a weakness in it. In everyday life, I have grown greatly in placing God actively in myself, my actions, other people, their actions, and the world around me. So God is active in my life, and I feel and acknowledge Him. I also am close to God in prayer, especially as I continue to learn to listen in prayer rather than just talk/worry before God.

However, the shortcoming rests in not connecting to God on a straight, uninterrupted line. When it comes to solitary, silent prayer with God, I struggle to quiet my shortcomings, flaws, and weaknesses as well as the mind-centered parts of it like theological reflections and analysis of my life and relationships. Ultimately, I must be able to feel God's love for the inherent, fundamental being that I am. This is crucial because as I build my personal ministry and love in action on loving generously, instantaneously, and unconditionally, that all needs to be founded on the unconditional love of God, which is the perfect model and inspiration.

I tried accessing this through Scripture like Isaiah 43 (the words behind You Are Mine) and other Scriptural ideas like being made in God's image. The point where I came closest to God and His love was through Hosea 11: "I was like those who lift infants (or in my case, a grown person) to their cheeks; I bent down to them and fed them". That fit the image of God I felt in my heart of the Father as Consoler. I came closest to a genuine feeling in my heart of God's love, independent of my life and world, through this image and the inherent feeling of God comforting me as if by holding me in His arms (it wasn't like a levitation or vision but rather an inner realization and feeling).

Fast forward (that was Saturday night) to Monday night and daily mass. As I knelt before the Lord and the Liturgy of the Eucharist and moved through the mass, I was in this mindset of finding and feeling God's love. After mass and feeling my usual "I believe God is there and believe in the Body of Christ, especially as in the people since Christ has no body now but ours but did not feel it in my heart", I realized that this newly-recognized void within me was a key part of my struggle for intimacy with the Eucharist.

Now I have a better sense of what was missing and how I can grow in it so as to grow closer to the Eucharist and God's love. An increased faith in the Real Presence of the Eucharist and the way it nourishes, renews, and commissions me would be an excellent grounding to growing as a minister and man of Christ.

The Moon(!?)rise

I spent this weekend, Friday/8:15 PM-Sunday/Noon in a silent retreat, speaking only to discuss my silence with a spiritual director for three 20-minute periods and to say AMEN to the Body of Christ at Saturday mass. I won't get into a heavy discussion of all that a silent retreat brings out, challenges, enables, etc. until after I have given myself a few days for processing and reflection.

In the meantime, I wanted to share my journaling from Saturday morning when I woke up at 6:15 to watch the sun rise from the comfortable seat of a stump on the coast of St. Joe's lake. As much as I like some of what I wrote, these entries precedes the struggle intensifying in me, as directed by the retreat's goal, to move away from my brain--from doing and analyzing--to my heart to feel God ... this is stuff I will need to continue to process and grow with and will only begin to scratch the surface of here.

The retreat calls you to move away from problem-solving, worrying, and stressing to a completely removed contemplation in the heart between you and God and nothing or no one else-- a difficult experience for me being someone who places God's love and presence so strongly in others. I was struggling mightily to narrow my focus to just me and God, and the struggle showed an empty part of my spirituality: I do not have a relationship with God independent of my life and world, and I need to build that foundation to rest the balance of myself on top of...

NO. 3 / 11-14, 6:56 AM

I woke up at 6:15 this morning with the words to George Harrison stuck in my head: "What is life without your love? Who am I without you by my side?" I gathered myself and bundled up to come watch the sunrise. What I didn't expect to see was the preceding MOONrise. For the ashes of this week's new moon rose an ever-so-slight waxing crescent. As I watched the faint glimmer of light rise quickly through the sky, I was enthralled by God's imagery. From a completely dark and unseeable new moon, I come just in time to see the genesis of the moon's rebirth. It goes through phases of fullness/luminosity and darkness, but in the total invisibility is the NEW moon. Out of this new moon comes the beginning of fullness, and the waxing crescent's rise will bring its wake the absolute fullness of the sun. For out of darkness comes the greatest light; it's most dark before light. God has called us, claimed by Christ as God's own people-- holy nation, royal priesthood, soon to be as the sun rises, walking in God's wondrous light.

NO. 4 / 11-14, 7:49 AM

PRAYER PERIOD II
CANTICLE OF THE TURNING

My heart shall sing of the day you bring.
Let the fires of your justice burn.
Wipe away all tears for the dawn draws near,
and the world is about to turn!

I'm not crying, but the sun has not risen from behind the power plant as I look out over St. Joseph's Lake. But in fitting with the power that verse one has struck within me this morning, "my spirit sings of the wondrous things that you bring to the ones who wait." My spirit does not really sing that on its own like it should; rather, it is just taken by the power of the song and the strength of the hope in conviction the song entails, and it left the meaning until now.
The mini-discernments in minute-by-minute life have been teaching me, most recognizably over the last six months, that patience is such a virtue. I have learned to be more patient with the people and events of everyday life, and now the challenge is to stretch that out and relationships will be a great test and growing experience. As the sun finally starts to peek over the power plant, I find hope in the rewards of patience and hope reflection and quiet both now and in coming months can help me reground myself in moderate patience and allow me to mix patient waiting with active courses of doing-- patience must be underlying my heart and mind, but it cannot breed hopelessness, complacency, or worst of all, passivity. Especially as I continue to embrace the call to love generously and take risks in living that, patience cannot mean standing still. It does involve a deeper embrace of recognizing that difference between lack of response and rejection and holding fast to the principle that love never fails. It will also require and hopefully foster a deeper sense of trust in God-- I must grow towards the ideal of reaching out to God with my hands in such a trusting manner as a small child confidently takes its father's hand.

Could the world be about to turn? The world is about to turn. It IS turning.

Dan (8:02 AM THE SUN IS UP.)

Saying Good-bye

So this is kind of a dangling thought-without-a-conclusion post, but here goes...

I realized today in a more full way that I am really bad at saying good bye. I'm talking about any kind of good bye-- after eating a meal with someone, ending a conversation in passing or even on the phone, before a friend goes abroad, leaving friends at home for school or school for home, etc. I think the only one I have down is the one with my parents when going back to school.

I'm not sure what this really entails ore reveals, but it's a quirky fact that has its source in my weird affections. I am an obsessive hugger and usually want to begin or end anything with hugs, which I think typically people are not ready for, not expecting, or do not want. That's the best way I know to reencounter someone or see them off until the next time.

The best example of this is after long, deepish, genuine person-to-person conversations. You have to end them sometime, and when I do end them, I don't know how. My favorite simple solution to that is silence or simple approval. I hold close to my heart a pair of late nights at Catholics on Call in August, when to quote my conversation brother Jeremy, we were "transfigured" before each other because of the ways we opened ourselves to each other in sharing life and faith. When my friend Regina and I walked down the hall back to our rooms to finally go to bed at 4:something AM, we hugged each other and I remember so clearly her saying just, "Yeah. ... Yeah," in a simple, heartfelt approval and embracing of the love shared that night.

I Love School

Half dreading the often monotonous and overly detailed and lengthy assignments of my American Religious History class' (a class I really like) main textbook American Religions: A Documentary History, I pulled the book off my shelf and plopped it open to the right page, and my mood shifted dramatically-- Thomas Merton assigned for my history class? No questions asked, I dove right in and let's just say I've added New Seeds of Contemplation to my "books I should try to acquire and read" post-it note.

Here's the passage the grabbed me:

"Fickleness and indecision are signs of self-love. If you can never make up your mind what God wills for you... it may be an indication that you are trying to get around God's will and do your own with a quiet conscience."

He adds, "As soon as God gets you in one monastery you want to be in another" or "As soon as you taste one way of prayer, you want to try another". "You are always making resolutions and breaking them by counter-resolutions... Soon you will have no interior life at all".

Whoa. Wow.

Today at Adoration, my mind was running wild--notsomuch with the hecticness of a busy schedule or looming tests or projects but with emotions and anxiety. Leave it to Jesus to help me. I definitely did not come close to the silence I have often been able to find before the Lord, but Jesus helped me focus the traffic within me to reflect and think.

It's what I like to call "good noise". Sometimes in the quest for silence, the silence is seen as the end. Instead, I think the silence is a means to the end of what is found there. Beyond that even, I think the quest for silence can be a means to the end I call "good noise"--it is the "noise" in your head that comes as a result of that quest for silence. It can be new things that come with the diminishing activity inside you or the very things you are trying to quiet becoming more apparent to you.

Anyway, I had copied down the Merton text for my blog before Adoration and did not really consider it again until tonight when writing this. The only thing I wrote in my reflection journal today from Adoration was, "You're there. Just do it. TAKE THE LEAP." Talk about exhortation to love generously!

In this case, specific things in my life merited my taking more direct action and being more generous with my love; perhaps even adding a new aspect Vickey helped point out to me: loving instantaneously--moving to love before considering reasons not to love. But the overall message I drew from this clarity before the Lord was to move beyond deeper spiritual reflection of the call to love generously and to act on what I had found so far. I have to keep searching for the ways to love and what keeps me from doing so, but in the meantime, I have the leap headlong into love based on what I have found so far.

You're there. Just do it. TAKE THE LEAP.

The Overactive Mind

Time management is my thing--my forte, my strength, my strong suit; it's what I do. I am time managing all the time, and it is how I am able to do so much and become so much.

Obviously, as with any strength, it can be a weakness if not moderated. So, yes, from time to time, over compartmentalizing life and blocking things into time slots can pull the rug out from under meaningful things, so I try to temper that with the ideal of total and complete presence--present fully to what I am doing at the moment. That's how I can take my gift and grow as a person.

Well, I decided last week to take an active step in that direction. I was reading over my little notebook that I bring to Adoration for recording clarities that also lives by my pillow for late night thoughts. Here's a note I wrote to myself: "Take all you know about prayer and construct a personal, owned prayer identity."

Ok, me, let's do it. I was trying to decide what to do with myself and landed on the idea of a concrete reminder that would hit me throughout the day. I haven't used anything of that sort since I lost the third incarnation of my Kairos cross freshman year of college, seeing it as a sign from God that I need to step up and own my growth internally without the external reminder. I settled on writing a message to myself, on my hands: on my left hand, I wrote STOP; on my right, THINK pray.

It's been about a week, and besides having to move my message to the back of my hand since writing on my palms smeared on my face and clothes, it's been rewarding and effective. I have a blatant reminder in front of me that sticks with me throughout the day and slaps me in the face each time I judge, lose patience, or fall short. I STOP myself and review the judgment I just jumped to about something or someone; I THINK about why that was wrong and what I can do better in the situation next time; I PRAY for the person and my shortcoming and improvement.

It's hard to come up with a good singular example, but it has just made me perceive things differently and better. I am more aware of the reality that people carry with them. I may only encounter them as an annoying conversation that I don't want to have, but they bring with them a day or week or month's worth of stress or worry or concern that I don't know and will never know unless I listen.

Simultaneously, I need to be more aware of the times I am indifferent (and not just focus on the times I am negative or bad) as well as become more aware of the things people do to me or for me. At least five people in the last day-and-a-half have asked how the Folk Choir concert went on Saturday, and I did not stop-think-pray until now about the love and care that showed.

STOP. THINK. PRAY.
(Dear Blogger: I hate that you refuse to upload my image the way I flipped it)

Reflection on 11/15 Readings

Here is the reflection I did on the readings for next Sunday as part of the Catholics on Call program. A bunch of CoC program alums write periodically for the website, and this is my contribution. (I'll probably have an original post in the next couple of days, too.)

Readings for November 15, 2009

Daniel 12:1-3
Psalm 16
Hebrews 10:11-14, 18
Mark 13:24-32

“No one knows the day or the hour, neither the angels in heaven nor the Son, but only the Father.” The readings for this Sunday all invoke the mystery of the glorious return of Christ. Beginning with the prophecy of Daniel, we get a glimpse of the coming judgment and salvation and are called to grow in trust in God.

Daniel, in the midst of a divine address from God, looks forward to a future time when the dead shall rise, the wise will shine brightly, and some will come to live forever. However, it also is a time “unsurpassed in distress” when some will fall to “everlasting horror and disgrace”. The eternal question we face living on earth without omnipotent knowledge is, “How do we avoid falling into deep separation from God--hell--and instead reach the fullness and intimacy of heaven?” Daniel promises a positive fate for “those who lead the many to justice”—to me, this is a prophetic forecast of the Church and its role as shepherd. Christ died for the atonement of our sins, rose from the dead, and then ascended into heaven. To continue his ministry, He left us the Apostles and His vicar, Peter, on which to build His Church. Since His Ascension, Christ has no body but ours, so through the Holy Spirit, the Church is the way Christ leads us to justice and righteousness. For our faith in God and seeking to live the Christian ideal, Daniel says we “shall be like the stars forever”.

In the passage from the Letter to the Hebrews, Christ is compared to priests. The priests administer the sacraments and serve in daily ministry, but their work, though important, does not equal the work of the great priest, Jesus Christ. Christ’s ministry involved the ultimate sacrifice, his death on the cross. The death of Jesus was an incredible example for us: the demonstration of perfect freedom. Because Jesus was the Word Incarnate—that is the divine Logos incarnate in man—He was God, and Jesus the Son’s will was one with God the Father’s will. Jesus was a human and had the gift of free will, but within that, He freely chose to undertake the Passion in accordance with His Father’s will and die for our sins. Jesus perfectly models complete trust in God for us to the point of death, and in His obedience, He saved us and took His seat at God’s right hand in eternal glory. As a result of our ministry as Christians, we can realize salvation in Jesus, who “by one offering has made perfect forever those who are being consecrated”.

In Mark, Jesus teaches us He, the Son of Man, will come again in a time of turbulence, like Daniel predicts, to save His elect. We read the promise of glory in Daniel and find hope for salvation in Hebrews, but in Mark, Jesus warns that no one knows the time of this final glory and salvation except God the Father. Whoa. So, we can act and live righteously, fight for justice, be saved by Jesus’ redemptive death, but we don’t get to know when that’s going to happen!? Well, no, we don’t—the Gospel reading ends right there. And if you check your Bible, the next verses only give you more metaphors that encourage you to be on your guard. So what do we do? Dig around for clues in the Bible? Wait for a crazy apocalyptic person to predict the end time? No. We trust in God, according to the model of perfect freedom that Jesus gives us. We seek to live righteously as Daniel encourages and to emulate the example of Christ so that we may realize the salvation made possible for us in Jesus’ death. Jesus will endure as an example until the end of time for us to follow until we meet God in our eternal rest: “The heavens and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.”

So, I leave you with the words of hope, joy, and celebration of a hymn that calls us to embrace the mystery and place our trust in God:

Sign me up
For the Christian jubilee
Write my name on the roll
For I’ve been changed since the Lord has lifted me
I wanna be ready when Jesus comes

You know not the day nor the hour he shall appear
But we know in our hearts He’s coming back again
My heart is fixed and my mind’s made up
I wanna be ready when Jesus comes

In Our Human Frailty

In reading Book I of Augustine's City of God, I was struck by a passage amid Augustine's explanation of how good and bad people often are equally afflicted or blessed. Here is the excerpt that struck me as it was written, so you can absorb it before I tell you how I felt:

"Although the good dislike the way of the life of the wicked, and therefore do not fall into the condemnation which is in store for the wicked after this life, nevertheless, because they are tender towards damnable sins of the wicked, and thus fall into sin through fear of such people (pardonable and comparatively trivial though those sins may be), they are justly chastised with afflictions in this world, although they are spared eternal punishment; and they rightly feel this life to be bitter when they are associated with the wicked in the afflictions sent by God. But it was through love of this world's sweetness that they refused to be bitter to those sinners." (Book I, Chapter 9)

Wow. What consolation I somehow found here. Let me preface that my interpretation of this passage and how it hit me is based on the fact that I think I am a virtuous, good person--something that Augustine likes to challenge his readers to (re)examine in themselves.

I do dislike the way of evil, and my disdain for the evil I see and encounter keeps me from experiencing the profound detachment from God that is hell. However, my human condition--my weaknesses, my frailty, my original sin, my use of free will to choose evil at times--leaves me vulnerable to evil and sin.

I think the most accurate word for this reality is one Pascal uses to describe our condition--wretchedness; or as I sometimes call it, frailty. And a somewhat unusual or unnatural way to view this is as a gift (thanks, Bro. John). It is hard to embrace one's weaknesses but that can create strength. I have come to view my weaknesses as gifts that are kind of a slap in the face to help me realize things. Among other things, my often-excessive ego and arrogance helps me realize that my intentions are not always as pure and righteous as they could and should be. My inconsistent confidence and cyclical outgoing-ness are weaknesses that deter me from being myself fully and at all times; they prevent me from giving my gifts/strengths completely to others when my outreach could be a consolation to people who need it and keep me from realizing my full potential.

Augustine tells us that because of our vulnerability and the way we turn to sin--even if only momentary or rarely--make the afflictions we face just. However, the beauty is that though the presence of affliction is just, God does not make these hardships endure; they are fleeting problems. Even if they are lifelong, the glory and peace of eternal life with God tears away temporal evil and affliction. We are justly afflicted with hardship for the sins we commit, but we are spared from eternal affliction if we embrace God again. God remains there, in constant love for us, through all the affliction. Sin is the active choice to reject love, and God is always available to us, waiting to (re)receive us. He created incredible special access for us through the Incarnation, both to His person as the Word became Incarnate and to penance, grace, and absolution through the expiation of sin in Jesus' death on the Cross and the sacrament of Reconciliation instituted in Christ's Church. We can return to God through His Son and the absolution offered in Jesus' redemptive death through our sacrament.

"It was through love of this world's sweetness that they refused to be bitter to those sinners" -- what is this world's sweetness for you? What keeps you from becoming embittered to sinners? Sinners are full people, too, and they must be shown the light and love of God and His forgiving graces. For, ultimately, we at one time or another, or frequently, are part of that "them" that is "sinners". So we must forgive others' trespasses as they forgive us since our frailty moves us to rejoin the sinners time and time again.

Through God's abundant love, we can always return to Him and (re)reject sin if we genuinely and honestly admit our fault and seek the forgiving grace of the Father. This diligent spirituality and striving to be and do good leads us to the eternal reward that Christ has opened for us with Him: we are justly chastised with afflictions in this world, but we are spared eternal punishment.

Rejection vs. No Response

The constant theme to my spirituality and reflection in prayer right now is to love generously. Love without unnecessary inhibitions or fears and give freely of yourself.

A few weeks ago we discussed the contrast between rejection of love and a lack of response to love. Both hurt, but only one is a conscious, active refusal to receive or accept love. Many times, my efforts to love--most often through reaching out to people to hang out, get a meal together, or whatever social things--are left dangling in the breeze without response, and I know I am not the only person who experiences this. I am often frustrated by people's ignoring me, and I wish people would just take the five seconds to write a simple text message back or whatever.

However, I am quick to judge, usually assuming the worst of the silent friends, and I often don't give the benefit of the doubt to these people, at least not immediately. I need to be better about not assuming the worst--not assuming rejection--and rather simply chalking it up to not getting a response. People are busy, forgetful, and stressed, and I don't allow those possibilities enough because I am not as affected by college's stresses and schedule cramping as others.

In Adoration this Wednesday, I found solace in the silence before the Lord. Here is the advice I found before Him, which I penned as advice to myself and offer to all of you as well:

"Love generously. All you can do is offer your love freely, fully, and generously to others. You can use your gifts, confidence, and faith to offer this love in creative and personal ways. But you cannot coerce, compel, or force--only offer. God gave us free will and freely gave us His Son as the example of perfect freedom (*see note below if you need explanation*). Follow Him--"



*God did not have to send His Son, but He did and did so freely and fully. As the Word Incarnate, Jesus remained coeternal and of the same essence of God. Jesus' will is the Father's Will, so Jesus' actions were done both through free will and completely in line with the Will of the Father--Jesus' life, actions, and ministry were the example of perfect freedom.

The Pilgrim

The reality I have noticed: When I go to Monday night daily mass, I sense that a few of the people present are not there with the rest of us but somehow separate and for themselves.

My gut reaction: Why are do they need to be separated? Why do they feel the need to remain apart from others at the mass? I feel alienated by them and inadequate.

The time when this becomes most apparent is during the sign of peace. Here, an excellent illustration of community practice becomes evident. In Zahm, we leave our places and hug all of each other for the sign of peace. It does not matter if you are friends or know each other; you simply extend Christ's peace to one another, Fr. Jim (our priest-in-residence) included. I understand if people feel this is an excessive demonstration since we roam around and it takes a little longer, but I do not like when it seems to surpass a difference of opinion to the point of a "holier-than-thou" kind of condescension. Sometimes, reaching out to them for Christ's peace seems like a chore for them, and that disappoints me. Regardless of how you practice the sign of peace, a simple firm handshake, eye contact, and the blessing of peace is a Catholic practice we do to emulate Christ.

I understand that some come to the daily mass for a more personal, cozier experience. I relate to that because that it why I go--I am trying to embrace the mystery of the Eucharist in a more intimate setting, hoping the smaller congregation and closer proximity to the sacrament will lend a greater understanding to my faith. However, there is a boundary to that. I usually sit alone and often close my eyes in contemplation and prayer at different points. However, the mass is not meant to be a private experience but rather one we share with our fellow pilgrims.

There is a time and place for solitude and setting oneself apart from distractions. But the mass is not the place for that. Before, after, and following Eucharist, one should find the quiet prayer they seek, but the mass experience is a communal celebration. We respond together; we receive Jesus together; we share Christ's peace together. It is a place where the pilgrim journey one makes comes into unity with his or her fellow believers. We raise our prayers separately but also together--it's not an either/or proposition; the Body of Christ is not millions of little bodies but one united body.

Ultimately, I am grateful for the presence of partially alienating people, and I pray that we find communion together. They have made me more appreciative of the personal aspect of faith, and I hope that I can continue to reach out to meet somewhere in the middle so we can all learn from each other.

Honing In (revised 10/26)

So it turns out that listening and being attentive to God's hints can be fun.

I reached a point early last school year where I found that God was certainly calling me to learn more about the Church and my faith (hence the Theology major) and to work towards becoming a full-time servant of the Church, as in going beyond the baptismal call to be Christ for others and being a "professional", dedicated, full-time minister in the Church. Now the challenge has been to sharpen that vocation--not necessarily to find the specific role, place, time, etc. but to continue discerning what my gifts are and how I can use them to serve the Church.

Hearkening back to Nick's idea that God will frustrate your designs if they don't fit his plan for you, I have found that music is not my calling in ministry. Music is somewhat of a gift in me that I have worked hard to grow; it is something I enjoy and have fun doing; it is something that connects me with people, communities, and the Church. However, it is not my calling.

Little things along the way have showed me that I am meant to sing and contribute musically to God's Church but in a leadership role. I am meant to serve as a music minister but not to be in charge of that. I am a piece to the puzzle not the puzzle-maker-guy.

--In high school, when I tried out for musicals, I was only once a featured soloist (what's up Hugo in Bye Bye Birdie!?). But I was always a prominent member of the supporting cast and ensemble, always called upon to go beyond my name role to be part of the support group and learn more than one or two parts. I was not meant to be front-center in the spotlight but lending the support to the leads that keep the show going.
--During my one year in chorus, I only solo-ed twice during the year and one of those was for Baccalaureate mass. My role in choir was to help me rhythmically challenged director get rhythms and technical things right so the choir would learn correctly. I was a part of the group sound, and my leadership was not in vocal solos but in the rehearsal room making sure we sang what the composer gave us on the sheet music.
--Whether at mass at home or on retreat or among strangers, I have been told I have a good voice as I sing in the congregation. I am a leader among the congregation but not in the choir. In the choir, I am one of many contributing to the blend. But out in the congregation, I am an instigator and encourage participation. (Maybe there's a cantor ministry in my future. I do have long arms...)
--In two tries auditioning for the Band of St. Cecilia, I didn't make that cut. The first time it was a lack of effort, and the second time placed me where I belonged as a double applicant--with the other Counselors that are not in the band. I can sing and act, but my gifts are best served as a dedicated counselor. Great singers and musicians are needed in the band, but I am needed out with the campers doing what I do in congregations and leaving the musical leadership to the best of the best--the Carolyn Pirtles and Jess Mannens of the ND world. (PS: Dear blogger spellcheck, those names are spelled correctly and you should know that because they're awesomes.)
--Also, this recent concert I planned for the six of us to do was a success but spoke to me a bit. My hard work and will power to get things done and make them happen showed through, but little difficulties along the way frustrated the project (losing 2 of the group in the late stages, getting delayed 8 hours by car trouble at home, ...). The overall success affirmed my confidence in being a minister, but the little bumps seem to nudge me from music to other things.

Ultimately, music ministry is still going to be a central part of my life and ministry, just not as a leadership thing. I am best as a member of the group not afraid to be vocal. Also, music ministry is a great formation process because the complexity of all the planning, decisions, and catechesis of it is strong training for any minister.

So through these and other things, God put me in my place where I belong, and I hope I have paid attention correctly to accurately understand God's beckon for me. There's still a lot to learn, but I am taking a concrete step towards high school ministry this summer. We'll see how that high-school/college campus ministry part of my vocation thinking and my inklings towards retreat/retreat-house ministry wrestle this out in my heart, mind, and soul over the next four years...

How do you pray?

Most people (or maybe not most people), me included, usually pray with their eyes closed, hands folded, and head slightly tilted downward. It is kind of the standard position for quiet concentration to eliminate distractions and keep your hands still. However, I try from time to time to break the monotony of this comfortable style to stress things in prayer.

1. Keep my eyes closed but tilt my head back a bit and look upward. The immediate difference is that even with your eyes closed, things are brighter. This is a sign of our idea that God is above, and in this way, I can more physically direct prayers to him in a symbolic way. Also, this works to make me less ashamed, bashful, or muted about my prayers. Even within my head, I speak with more conviction, am prouder of what I am saying, and am making more a proclamation of my prayers.

2. This is mostly for the grotto--I bury my face in my hands, folded or not, and make my prayers in self-created darkness. I spend however long I need talking and listening to God and presenting my prayers to Our Lady for intercession. By time my 15 or 30 minutes are done and I've rounded out my prayer with a Hail Mary to Our Lady of Lourdes, I pick my head up and immediately the light overtakes me. My eyes have adjusted to the extended darkness, and once I open them and reexpose them to the light, the change is incredible. The symbolism is even greater. First, the light makes me feel that my prayers have been answered; God is light, and my prayers have been going forth into the light. I am surrounded by new light that I could not see while in prayer, and it is profound consolation. Second, the light before me is the light of my brothers' and sisters' prayers. I am not alone in my needs, wants, praise, and thanks; I am here in solidarity with the Body of Christ that needs the intimacy with God just as I do. Their light brings me comfort, and my light will do the same for them.

3. Finally, for end-of-day prayer before going to sleep, I lay on my back until I have finished my prayer. I am a side sleeper, so I won't be able to fall asleep until I roll over. This posture also leaves me feeling kind of vulnerable until i really curl the sheets over me and roll into the more secure fetal position that hearkens back to the safety of the womb. As I lay there sprawled out, I am able to put it all out there before I move to security and comfort buried under the sheets.

God Gives You What You Need

My two biggest concerns while doing the ministry of singing in Folk Choir are (1) being distracted from the mass by my responsibilities to singing rather than using song to access the mass/really embracing the text as I sing it and (2) making a dichotomy/separation between big, crowded Sunday mass and daily mass in the dorm with just a handful of people. It's not as if these things consume me and make my head reach the verge of exploding during mass, but they are underlying themes.

Today I was more concerned with #2. I have been going to daily mass at least once a week since the start of Lent last year, and my main focus in daily mass is to focus intensely on the Eucharist, that mystery, and the real presence to come into greater understanding and intimacy of everything that goes on. I have a tendency to treat the Sunday mass with its bigger congregation, additional reading, longer sermon, etc. as something different and separate from that. It's almost as if they are two different things to me. To an extent they should be; inherently, they are two different experiences. However, I overlook the similarities and focus too much on the differences. I need to take the things I learn in daily mass to Sunday mass and vice-versa--take my increased Eucharistic devotion to Sundays and take active participation and ministerial leadership to daily mass.

Even with these ongoing battles going on inside, today was not just a continuance of that but more importantly a buffet of signs of love from God. Just to name a few--people who felt that handshakes and fist-pounds weren't enough on the way off the risers and wanted to hug me, seeing Colleen and Robby back with us, Josh's jokes about O Waly Waly, catching certain people's eyes and smiles, seeing Regina at mass... and the list goes on. Amid the seemingly endless spiritual struggle, God gave me what I need: the consolations of seeing the widespread permeation of His love all over the place today--around me, from me, and for me.

Struggle in the Silence

I have to admit, the last week or so of striving for reaching silence in prayer and maintaining the silence long enough to find the voice of God has been difficult and unfruitful. Much like the weather outside, it's kind of rainy in my prayer right now. I am in no short supply of consolation; last night I found no desolations in my entire day (maybe I wasn't looking hard enough but you get the idea)--a smooth, enjoyable Vision interview; a beautiful worship aid for the concert in Wisconsin; making solid progress on midterm papers.

However, despite the shortcomings in nightly reflection, I still found great joy in the solemnity of Adoration. Having adjusted my half-hour of prayer before the Blessed Sacrament, I now aim to be silent or pursuing silent for half the time so as to let the real presence of Jesus speak to me. Reflecting on the issue of love and how I am meant to love and meant to give love, I thinking about the important relationships to me.

What defines a best friend? What is it about my good friends that I seek to gain in other relationships, too? What would be a relationship goal for my friendships and for any potential serious relationships? The answer that came to me in the silence was contentment that when you say good bye to the person that this time spent together won't be the best time or the last time. The way I look for love and seek to give it is (1) to offer and establish consistency and reliability in support and presence, that I will be there whenever needed and (2) to be present to the people I am with and accept that not every time has to be the most fun ever had but at the same time realize that when we do have fun that there's always the prospect of having more fun as the friendship continues. So that's the kind of weird, personally interpreted version of love and friendship that I found through prayer...

First Post

So by the inspiration of the wonderful Michele Monk, I am going to periodically bare parts of my soul on a blog, offering honest restatements of the reflections I do in prayer--both to more firmly grasp what God is leading me to and to share thoughts with others that may need to hear them for inspiration or fellowship.

Right now, my spiritual struggle is to listen more in prayer. I was cautioned by my spiritual director to not just worry before God for however many minutes a day. Even though it is important to explain yourself and your feelings honestly to God and present your concerns and joys and everything, God already knows our innermost desires and thoughts. However, we do not know God's innermost desires and thoughts. My director compared it to any good friendship; it must be a two-way street that involves talking AND listening. It was kind of jarring to me to accept that I have never really diligently and thoroughly tried to listened to God.

I am making concerted efforts to make as much time for listening as for talking in my prayer. For every minute of description and explaining I do, I try to put as long towards listening to God. I have started to keep a journal of the things I discern from the quietness before God, especially during Adoration when the presence of the Lord is even more profound and striking. As the entries add up, I hope that I can find a pattern or message in the "little discernments" that come of the quiet. Each of the little notes are important, but I hope that my prayer can come together to show me a glimmer of God's will.

Whether or not I find patterns now or in a few days or weeks, I have also tried to subordinate my prayers to the will of God--"thy will be done". As important as honesty and being true to oneself is in prayer, the humility to put all of ones desires before God is the ultimate. My friend Nick suggested to me that perhaps we must seek to do what we think is right and leave it up to God to "frustrate our designs" if we they are not in accordance with his will. I like Nick's view of Thomas Merton's idea that at least the desire to do God's will is in fact pleasing to him. Hopefully my efforts to seek his voice are pleasing to God.