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.