Imperfecting

Every work day, I leave my apartment around 6:45am, and try to shoot through downtown Chicago and past the Circle Interchange before the rush hour traffic fully kicks in. Almost every day, I make it through downtown pretty cleanly en route to the school where I work in Hammond, Indiana, a few miles over the Illinois state line. The Chicago Skyway is more direct and cuts through the campus, but I take the Bishop Ford/I-94 to avoid a $4 toll each way.

Google Maps says it should take me 43 minutes, and I’m usually to work in a cool 40. Going home can be a different story, ranging from 45 to 90 minutes depending on the day, the weather, and the fickle (in)competence of my commuting brethren. The frustrating thing for me is not the 25-mile drive, the occasional traffic jam, or the construction-induced lane closings. What gets me is the little stuff.

I could make great time from school to 94, from 94 to the Circle, get through downtown cleanly, and be on track for a record time. Then, I’ll get to the off-ramp at North Ave., and it’ll be so backed up that it takes five cycles of the traffic light to turn onto the street. Or I’ll turn off the ramp in a timely fashion, then run into a monster line to turn left onto Sheffield. Or I’ll make it through to my front door in a career-best speed, and then there will be no parking spots within a block, leading to a 10-minute quest for the Holy Grail.

No matter what I do, what mindset I have, what “shortcuts” I think I’ve found, I cannot guarantee the perfect, record-breaking commute. If it’s not construction, it’ll be a traffic jam. If it’s not the parking spots, it’ll be a crash. If it’s not the commute, it’s something holding me up from leaving work. There’s simply no way to perfect the transaction. I can do due diligence in leaving early enough or taking the fastest route, but I cannot control everything. I have to accept that, many times, my commute will be far from perfect.

The same reality rears its head in ministry. Last year, as the liturgy coordinator and sacristan at a Catholic high school, I was partially responsible for completing the episcopal liturgy plan to submit to our diocesan office ahead of the bishops’ visits for Masses. There was obvious pressure to assemble everything competently and lay out a smooth Mass for the bishop to swoop in and celebrate.

Prepare as we tried, neither the form nor the Mass ever was perfect. One of my favorite moments came in completing the All Saints Day Mass form. Seeking to help our underresourced choir and choir director, I suggested the common psalms for Ordinary Time as options for the sung psalm at the Mass. She chose one, and we filed the form. Stupid me – All Saints Day is a solemnity, so no messing with the lectionary, which the bishop’s liturgist pointed out and corrected us (me) on.

When the bishops and their handlers did arrive for Mass, they were always happy to be there, gregarious, faithful. Yet eggshells remained as we undertook the liturgy. The first time bishop came, I was on edge and grimaced at each mistake and misstep.

After Mass ended and I had finished consorting with the episcopal handlers, I decided I’d certainly continue to put in a good effort in all the planning and coordination, but when Mass arrived and began, it was just time for Mass – no more tenuousness or nervousness. The Gathering Song marked the end of that stuff and the beginning of a celebration of Eucharist. Mass was worth more than any points we could score with the bishops’ office. My priority ought to be and became celebrating Mass, imperfect as any “work of the people” will be. Intentionally planned and orchestrated but humbly celebrated by flawed, imperfect humans, seeking to offer praise and worship to God.

Now, as a full-time campus minister, I have the ability to put fuller due diligence into the things I plan and lead, which only strengthens temptation. I might think that the attention to detail, the fastidious organization, and the quality time put into something will streamline it beyond doubt. However, reality never quite unfolds like that. Any retreat director can tell you how fast a retreat gets off schedule and the great elation that hits when one gets ahead.

The beauty comes in that first mistake – when you forgot to dictate a rule in the opening remarks, when you recognize a typo in the leaders’ manuals, when you say the wrong time for something to start or end. Once the perfection pursuit has ended, reality can be embraced. The retreat or Mass or activity can be what it should be, what God calls it to be instead of solely what I envision it to be.

On Kairos this week, it came when my chaplain realized he forgot his alb at school, and when we were a couple journal notebooks short. The moment was early and released us from any delusions of perfection and into a more realistic yet earnest and dedicated optimism.

God doesn’t call us to be successful; He calls us to be faithful. We shouldn’t glorify our mistakes, but rather than become frantic and panicked, we must learn from them and move on, doing better the next time. We must embrace mistakes as an opportunity for humility, a re-grounding in our romantic, human pursuit of seemingly unattainable ideals.

God loves us despite or even because of our imperfections, as long as we are working to grow in relationship to ourselves, others, and Him. May our ministries commit ever more to diligent intentionality and prayerful, reflective attention, as we confront, embrace, and grow from imperfections.

Thoughts Before the Lord

At the school where I work, the junior theology class covers church history this semester. The teachers thought it would be a good supplement to the classroom learning to actually partake in Eucharistic Adoration, the origins of which had just come up in their discussion.

The teachers invited me to organize the Adoration for their classes, so I put together a basic outline. The classes had about 40 minutes in the chapel before the Lord, so I sprinkled in bits of input to break up the periods of silence, trying to facilitate a positive experience for a rather unchurched generation that has trouble with silence and pieties. We started with the sign of the cross and a simple prayer and invitation to approach Adoration with any of many kinds of reverent quiet. Every ten minutes, I offered something - a reading from 1 John 4 (God is love!), a rendition on guitar of Psalm 23: I Will Walk in the House of the Lord (Warner), a reading from the Gospel of John (I am the Bread of Life), and simple petitions.

As I tried to time the final prayers and concluding Our Father to beat the end of the period, I found an awkward delight in the fact that a loudspeaker for our school intercom is right in the middle of the chapel ceiling. At one point, our Dean broke into our silence to summon a couple dozen students to the office. But my favorite was the unapologetic, blaring noisiness of the period bell.

Whereas in the stark silence of monastic prayer, the abbot will firmly clack his ring against the wood of the choir stalls to signal the end of communal prayer, here in our all-too-small chapel, an utterly obtrusive five-second beep tells us to go forth. It's just one of many ways that a school is not a parish; rather than a church intermittently housing regular worship and support staff, it is a bustling, crowded, loud place, packed with activity and youth everywhere. Teachers walk past the door to make copies; students pass by on their way to the bathroom; maintenance workers go by corresponding by walkie-talkie.

As I sat in my place, kind of in the corner of our square chapel, sort of behind Jesus, I would occasionally glance around the chapel at the students, something I quickly stopped doing. Thinking back to my Adoration visits at Notre Dame, the silence and reverence for Christ and others' prayer was stark - no one said a word; the door was closed gingerly; and, prayerful postures and gestures abounded. A high school is neither a parish nor a university, so the postures and expression were different, and I had to resist temptation to label it as worse.

Looking around, it was much easier to tell which students were unfocused or uninterested than to identify the ones who were invested and reflecting. The repulsive postures, vacant facial expressions, and less-than-subtle snoring easily tempted me to think all of those students were not into Adoration. I had to stop myself, let them be, and leave it in God's hands.

As the periods went on - I was with six groups of students throughout the day - I would consider what their thoughts and attitudes might be as they sat there. As a campus minister and a faithful believer, I wanted badly for this to be a positive, enriching prayer experience, or at least the seeds of something yet to grow.

I looked to the monstrance (Also called an ostensorium!? I learned something today.) and thought - what a beautiful sacramental to emphasize the reality of Christ's closeness, and within it, Christ is present in the form of bread... why doesn't He do something crazy and awesome and miraculous to get these kids hooked!? How cool would it be if Jesus just spoke audibly from the host or leapt forth from the monstrance and embraced the students?!

And as I pored over the potential possibilities, I realized - man, Jesus is so much better than that.

Some people want a God who is wildly present in our lives and does sensational things like he did with the Israelites - the pillar of fire, commandments on stone, or raining bread. Yet, for us, God became man, lived, suffered, died, and rose from the dead to give us eternal life, and until He comes again, He gave us the Church and Eucharist, with the Holy Spirit. WE HAVE A LOT. And we're still obstinate in being luke-warm, half-way, lazy humans, putting the onus on God to come get us because we don't have time, attention, focus, or energy to discover Him and deepen our relationship with Him.

Jesus could do something crazy in Adoration, but that would likely lead to a cheap, shallow faith, based on something miraculous, yes, but not deeply rooted. Sure, it could be the start of something broader and deeper, but Jesus has already done A LOT of crazy stuff. Like becoming man. Like coming to us repeatedly in the Eucharist to sacramentalize that once-and-for-all sacrifice and His presence with us always in the Holy Spirit.

Getting teenagers and modern Americans there is the great challenge. The BuzzFeed culture has shortened our attention span and led us to avoid that which is not in bite-sized portions organized into best-of lists with punchy captions. We want stuff that's ready for quick, instant digestion that we then cast aside as we move to the next thing. How can bishops, priests, and lay ministers work with the rest of the faithful to realize the fullness of our Christian faith?

In our case today, we sat them in front of Jesus for forty minutes, fed them Scripture and song and a bit of formal prayer, and left them in the Lord's hands. We will continue to try many different things in the chances we have to bring them to the Lord and the Lord to them. At some point in each encounter with something, the Chrome tab closes; the iPhone gets locked and pocketed; the school bell rings.

Jesus doesn't wait until we're ready or deserving. He doesn't depend on our paying attention or insist upon winning our focus. He is working always, past every app, past every smartphone, past every bell. Jesus is looking for them, me, and you before we even find Him. But let's not wait. Find space in your life - you do have time, whether it's in a solemn monastery or a bustling place - to go before the Lord.

What do the Pope, Facebook, and Gardening Have in Common? (This post.)

A Little Buffet: Interview with the Pope, Facebook for Good, and Gardening

The Faith of Francis

The new interview with Pope Francis is out, and the average person and average Catholic is left to sift through the many news stories that seek to distill the lengthy interview into a palatable portion. Obviously, different media outlets have different editorial motivations to choose pulled quotes or otherwise summarize the conversation.

Ideally, the majority of people would read the whole interview, or at least open the primary source to view the transcript and skim through Francis' words for sections and subjects in which they are interested.

I'm not here to damn society for its habits, though I do fear the momentum of our BuzzFeed-ified style of gathering information. I think we can serve each other well by sharing our favorite parts with each other, so what I do want is to call attention to one of many bright spots in Francis' consistently inspiring message.

The church’s pastoral ministry cannot be obsessed with the transmission of a disjointed multitude of doctrines to be imposed insistently. Proclamation in a missionary style focuses on the essentials, on the necessary things: this is also what fascinates and attracts more, what makes the heart burn, as it did for the disciples at Emmaus. We have to find a new balance; otherwise even the moral edifice of the church is likely to fall like a house of cards, losing the freshness and fragrance of the Gospel. The proposal of the Gospel must be more simple, profound, radiant. It is from this proposition that the moral consequences then flow.

Amid this section of the dialogue, Francis insists upon a bigger manifestation of the faith that fuels our being. Yes, the Church has strict, absolute teachings on divisive moral and social issues. Yes, the Church's positions can be unpopular and come off as dismissive or intolerant. The challenge for Catholics then becomes to delve more deeply into the truths and realities of our faith, strive toward understanding, and share that wider faith that proceeds from our God of total unity.

Francis is calling us to a more comprehensive, complete, lived faith. We don't need to cast aside the teachings we uphold, for they respond to the challenges of our times in light of the truth we know from Christ. We do need to broaden our perspective, and live out our faith beyond the parameters of any specific social issue.

Yes, abortion is wrong, but more than opposing pro-abortion laws and practices, how do we learn to love better, to better support mothers unsure about keeping their pregnancies, to strengthen the understanding of marriage and family? Birth control is wrong, but how do we develop a fuller understanding of sex, of self-gift, of parenthood? Homosexuality is a heavy cross to bear, but how do we better identify and magnify the dignity of homosexual people, love in relationship, and true expression of love?

Francis is exhorting us to live a faith that does not become boxed in by itinerant rigidity. We can call out sin in our society and in one another for what it is, but we are not militant policemen. We can simultaneously oppose social sin while also loving and calling to light the dignity of all people, all called to be ministers from Christ in baptism. Our faith can inform our politics and morality, but it is bigger than any issue or dispute. God calls us to live a faith that enfleshes His love, the love He showed by becoming Man, by dying and rising, and by sending us the Spirit to be with us always.

The Sunnyside of Social Media

Social media gets a bad rap these days. As with most any invention or new technology, people have used it for good as well as bad. We hear stories of cyberbullying, sometimes leading to suicides, of sexting and excessive sexualization of young people, of addiction, obsession, and self-absorbtion stemming from social media's growing dominance over people's lives.

Amid the darkness, there are plenty of times when social media helps bring light into the world. Like Good Samaritan-esque stories overshadowed by news of murders and shootings, good things are happening in the social media sphere. And even more importantly, as seen in this case, we can find God bringing the good that He always will bring from a potentially dark time.

A deeply beloved teacher was recently fired from my alma mater high school. The specifics of the circumstances are contentious and unclear, but our dear teacher took to social media to respond. He told all of us that he was in fact fired, that students were misled to believe that he had resigned, and that he was embracing this crossroads moment as a liberating opportunity in his life, concluding by saying, "I know God will not lead me down a path that is wrong for me. I want to thank all for the outpouring of support. You have touched me more than you know!"

There is always the back-and-forth of he-said-she-said conjectures, and we may never know the exact story. What we do know is that a man who was loved by 15+ years of students was now dismissed. He'd no longer man the post from which he made such a tremendous, positive impact on hundreds, if not thousands, of students lives.

Within a day of his sharing the sad news, 150 people had liked his post, and a beautiful stream of support, stories, and gratitude followed. Alumni came out of the woodwork to affirm and thank this great teacher and stand with him in a tough time.

50 comments in total tell the story of a swath of alumni and their concern, support, gratitude, and a host of other emotions in solidarity with our beloved teacher. Christ's victory on the cross showed us that nothing - not even literal crucifixion - was so bad that God could not work good from it. From Christ's cross came salvation for all, and from this tough time came love, community, and support for a man of Christ.

Planting the Seeds

Directing retreats is easily my favorite part of my job. The performer part of me, the part of me that makes me an introvert by only a small majority, enjoys being in front of a crowd, cracking jokes, being loud, breaking the ice, and defusing their awkwardness, even if by magnifying it. And the minister part of me loves seizing on that attention and guidance, on the budding community that can form on retreat, to push people to a meaningful, spiritually richer, faith-alive place.

The best part of all of that? Empowering youth to lead. The retreat is a blast, fun and one-of-a-kind in such a particular way. However, the training and communal preparation of a leadership team is the best to me. Walking the path of emotions and logistics is beautiful. How do you prepare a person and team to emotionally, mentally, and spiritually engage others while also giving them the tools - questions, a schedule, activities, etc. - that support that encounter? It's a challenge I embrace and dive into headlong.

I love to walk the prospective leaders through things dry-run style, exposing them to the same activities that they'll ask others to do - making them dance the dance, answer the questions, fill out the worksheets. Yet no matter what I do or say, we can't prepare for everything. I can only put in my best effort toward forming them to be capable on their own and then unleash them.

And inevitably, they face frustrations. They encounter students and groups who are even more extreme versions of the characters we role-played in practice small groups. They wonder if they've failed, or fallen short. And I try to remind them, as I remind myself in training them, that we can only do our best. We may never get to know the degree to which we succeeded in our leadership. We can only give our best most faithful effort and put it in their hands.

Ministry is a richly metaphor-ize-able topic, and I love gardening's applications to it. Ultimately as ministers, we are often gardeners. However, our gardening task may differ depending on the growth of the "plants". Sometimes, we are planting the seeds; sometimes, we are watering them; sometimes, we are pruning the branches on a shrub; sometimes, we are enjoying the fruit the tree bares; sometimes, we may end up resting comfortably in the shade of the tree. It is up to us to pay attention to the stage of the garden before us - in our small groups, in our schools and parishes, in our classrooms - and give our best effort toward gardening accordingly.

Whether it's an increasingly seasoned campus minister training upperclassmen or teenagers guiding freshmen on their first high school retreat, we must give our faithful effort in whatever stage of work lies in the vineyard, and then find peace in surrendering our effort and the encounter-in-faith by offering it up to God.

Team Prayer Service: Unique While One in Christ

From time to time, the delights of my job as campus minister give me the platform to speak to the school or groups of students. Here is the talk (followed by the readings I chose) I gave at the weekly football team prayer service, the first part of the team's preparations between the end of the school day and their Friday night games.

The past few years, the NBA has become increasingly dominated by “super-teams.” People forget, but the Celtics were the ones who really started it when they traded for Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen to join Paul Pierce, and they won a championship. Miami followed suit and has won two championships, and teams like the Lakers, Nets, and Knicks have tried to copy the super-team approach without much success. 

Two years ago, as NFL training camps geared up, the Eagles signed free agent QB Vince Young to backup the oft-injured Michael Vick. Earlier that offseason, the Eagles had made some big splashes. They signed top free agents CB Nnamdi Ashomugha and DE Jason Babin to expensive contracts. They shipped out Kevin Kolb for cover-corner Dominique Rodgers-Cromartie and a high draft pick. And then they added Young as a high-profile backup to their flashy starting QB. 

When the Eagles introduced Young at a press conference, he was asked about the impressive roster the Eagles had assembled for the 2011 season. Without hesitation, he told them, “Dream team,” and added, “It's beautiful to see where we're trying to go.” 

Young's line would be replayed over and over that year as the Eagles started the season 4-8 and never really threatened for playoff contention. Young had evaluated his team based on how famous its players were, how much money people were getting paid, and how much attention they had gotten in the media. When he uttered that infamous line, he hadn't even stepped on the field yet with this “dream team.” And when he did, he must have quickly realized that no matter how good the team looked on paper, none of that mattered when they couldn't back it up on the field. 

What's a real Dream Team? Quick history lesson: the 1992 USA Men's Basketball Team. The real Dream Team. The original Dream Team. 11 of its 12 members are in the Basketball Hall of Fame. Early in their olympic preparations, during a scrimmage against a team made up of college players, Coach Chuck Daly intentionally made dumb substitutions and poor coaching decisions. Coach Daly knew the team would lose and intended for them to get frustrated and motivated. It worked. As the 1992 Olympics, they went undefeated as a team, winning on average by 45 points. The best players of that era – many of them among the greatest of all time – understood that they were part of one of the greatest teams ever and adjusted their styles to form an unstoppable team and absolutely dominate the international competition. 

What stops groups from getting there? Why couldn't Kobe, Nash, Gasol, and Howard dominate last year? Why don't the Yankees win the World Series year-in and year-out? Why did the Eagles' “dream team” fizzle out? 

Teams have to realize the importance of their identity. Dwight Howard didn't buy into being a part of Kobe's Laker dynasty. The Yankees' players probably get complacent once they've gotten big money contracts. The Eagles big acquisitions didn't come together as a team. 

For you guys, you have to consider to yourselves – Who am I on this team? 

What do I mean to my teammates on the field?... What's your position? What are your assignments for each formation? What's your responsibility for each play? 

What do I mean to my teammates off the field?... Who needs my support? What players can I help by reviewing positioning and technique? What players can I go to with questions about my own game? What teammates will pick me up when I'm down? Who can I fire up? 

I'm a baseball player, and I've been a baseball coach. I never played high school football, but I can tell you about high school baseball players. Most of the guys head to the field, walk to the on deck circle, or take the pitcher's mound with their stats firmly in mind. 

Guys can tell you how many errors they've made, or not made. Hitters have a running tally of their RBI and a live number for their batting average. Pitchers could tell you their ERA on an inning-by-inning basis. Baseball players get obsessed with their stats, and it becomes really easy to become distracted from the team, and the most important stat – the W column. Guys become more worried about their batting average and ERA than the outcome of the game. 

When I was a starting pitcher, I was the same way. When a hitter made contact, as I'd watch the play and move to cover my responsibility, I'd judge whether or not it was an error or hit and recalculate my ERA and stats as I walked back to the mound. Some games, I'd be more focused on getting outs and keeping us in the game. Other games, my mental attention to my own stat sheet only made the outcome worse for me and my team. 

It was an epidemic for us. Most guys knew their own stats as well as the stats of their teammates and could readily produce arguments on why they should be pitching or in the starting lineup rather than that guy who's out there, including my teammate, Mike. 

One of our players was named Dante. He was the QB from our football team. He had never really played much baseball, but he still made the baseball team without attending tryouts; coach used him as a pitcher and a right-fielder. Mike was next to me on the bench while Dante started that game, and Mike didn't like when Dante played or pitched instead of him. In the middle of the game, Dante came up with the bases loaded, after already driving in a couple runs earlier in the game. This at-bat, he got a pitch on the outer half of the plate and hit it to the opposite field, out toward the scoreboard and up into the wind blowing out to right field. The ball carried over the wall for a grand slam and kept us in the game when we were trailing big. I couldn't believe how well Dante was hitting that day. Neither could Mike. Earlier in the game he had made his case against Dante playing, and now as Dante rounded the bases, Mike quietly said to me, “Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while.” 

Rather than be happy for our team and for our teammate, Mike was obsessively fixated on his individual stuff. Even if Dante's spot on our team wasn't earned, even if he got special treatment, he was still a teammate. He was still playing hard. He was still helping our team try to win. 

In two years, my baseball teams won 13 games. We lost 47. Forty-seven. We laughed under our breath when our coach yelled at us. We were slow and lazy getting ready for games. We buried a message in a bottle in the dugout sand as we blew a 10-run lead and got slaughtered by mercy rule. 

We knew how to make each other laugh and have a good time, but we had no idea what it meant to be a team, to focus on a goal together. We knew our own stats, but I doubt many guys knew our record. We looked out for ourselves and knew what we produced when we got playing time, but we never worked toward becoming a team and forging an identity. 

Jesus asks his disciples what people are saying about Him. People are still figuring Jesus out. They know He is wise and holy and loving, but they're not sure what His deal is. Is he a reincarnation of Elijah or Jeremiah? Is he a new prophet from God? Is he like John the Baptist? 

Jesus asks Peter what he thinks personally, and Peter hits it out of the park. Peter goes out on a limb and admits that he knows that Jesus is the Son of God. Almost like a game show announcer telling a contestant what he's won, Jesus embraces Peter with support and love. 

Jesus is so proud of Peter that he makes him the leader of the group. Jesus tells Peter that He'll support whatever Peter does to guide believers, and this is where we get the tradition of a pope. The pope is meant to follow this call that Jesus gives to Peter to unite and guide Christ's people all over the world. Peter's conversation with Jesus is one of things that gives our “team”, our Christian community, its identity. Peter's profound faith in Christ leads Jesus to make him our leader, someone around whom we can unite as we try to follow Christ. 

In the first reading, Paul told us that even with our unique qualities, we are part of one group together. For people in Paul's time, it didn't matter if they were Jewish or Greek people. It didn't matter if they were free-men or slaves. They were one in Jesus Christ. Their belief in Him, their baptism into His life, death, and resurrection united them. 

For us today, the same idea continues. We know Christ is the Son of God. Regardless of whether we live in Illinois or Indiana, regardless of whether we come from white, black, Latino or any other heritage, regardless of being freshmen or seniors, we at Bishop Noll know we are one together in Christ. 

Jesus pats Peter on the back because he knew it and was not afraid to say it. Peter's faithful commitment to Christ helps solidify Peter's identity. When we recognize that God made us and loves us, that he sent Jesus and the Holy Spirit to show us His love, we too find our identity. No matter if we're male or female, black or white, rich or poor, young or old, we are all united in Christ. 

So think about this team: What sets you apart? What makes you unique? What do you bring to the table that is special to just you? 

For your team – How can you contribute that to an identity that's bigger than just yourself? How do you share yourself in a way that helps others and makes the group better? 

It all is built on Christ. As we try to learn what makes us unique as individuals, as we try to learn how we can contribute ourselves to the team, we can start from our unity in Christ. And as Bishop Noll students, as members of the Warriors football team, we must build everything on that reality. We are all one in Christ.

__________

Readings

First Reading

A reading from the letter of St. Paul to the Galatians:

For through faith you are all children of God in Christ Jesus.
For all of you who were baptized into Christ
have clothed yourselves with Christ.
There is neither Jew nor Greek,
there is neither slave nor free person,
there is not male and female;
for you are all one in Christ Jesus.
And if you belong to Christ,
then you are Abraham’s descendant,
heirs according to the promise.

Gospel

A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew:

[Jesus] asked his disciples,

"Who do people say that the Son of Man is?"

They replied, "Some say John the Baptist,

others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets."

He said to them, 

"But who do you say that I am?" 

Simon Peter said in reply, 

"You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." 

Jesus said to him, 

"Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. 

For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, 

but my heavenly Father.

And so I say to you,

you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church,

and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.

I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven.”

Relationship or Public Relations?

I just can't seem to resolve the internal tensions I'm feeling in the midst of this heated-up battle for the smart-phone market share.

Nokia is trying to take a bite out of it with ads that emphasize the power of their "reinvented zoom" on the smart phone camera that enables you take amazing pictures. No problem there. But it's the way they pitch it.

Much like Apple's pedestal-ization of the power of the iPhone's camera, iTunes, and FaceTime features, this new ad centers on a moment at a concert during which a girl takes a photo of the stage, uses the new zoom and crop to create a really sharp image of the performer, and quickly shares it with friends. We then see a montage of her friends' guffaw over what they think are her awesome seats.

Things that are ok: taking pictures at concert, sharing your experience with friends, being jealous of or impressed by or excited for friends' exploits.

Things that are dangerous: staring at your phone rather than the world around you, especially in the midst of a special experience like a live concert; having to share such experiences or know about others' immediately; needing to provoke a reaction via texts or social media.

I stopped the fast forward on a DVR-watch to review this commercial when it came up, wanting to hear my girlfriend's reaction as compared to mine, to see if my interpretation was ridiculous.

We started by expressing frustration at the girl's tunnel-vision, looking down into the funnel of light emanating from her backlit screen amid the hullabaloo of a concert.

Then we thought about how just being at the concert, and being there with a friend, was insufficient. The photo had to be shared - in this case, her friends also craved immediacy in pulling their phones out immediately and expressing mostly disbelief and jealousy.

We finished wondering - building off this growing impulse we feel to be documentarians of all things we experience - if because of the ease of doing video, photo, FaceTime, check-ins or status updates, we cannot resist providing a constantly refreshed stream of self-identification to the world. And if we cannot resist having tight control and immediate broadcast ability.

We as humans have always felt anxious about how others perceive us. In the past, we turned mainly to physical trappings. We might alter the way we dress, the way we talk, the expressions we use, the places we go to hang out, our hairstyle, etc. Now, the plethora of social media accounts out there provide a huge opportunity for people to control the flow of information about themselves and supply people with a very particular image.

Instagram provides your life in photos. Twitter broadcasts the stream of consciousness. Snapchat and Vine send around the mundane or sudden ideas. Foursquare and other "check-in" apps let people know where you've been and where you are. Pinterest shares your creativity. Tumblr, Blogger, Wordpress and others give you an online forum. Facebook does most all these things and more.

Everyone can basically become their own PR-firm, crafting the spread of information and updates about their exploits day-by-day, hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute.

This can be a blessing and a curse. All technology can be used for good or bad. It's up to us to decide what to do with the power in the palms of our hands.

Sometimes, technology enables us to communicate with others more than we ever could before. It becomes a supplemental way for us to bridge the gap between encounters in the traditional ways (face-to-face conversation, nights out, etc). We get into trouble when the technology becomes the primary way we communicate with others (there are times when distance and/or time make it more necessary to resort to this) and takes a big bite out of traditional encounters. Worse, we really dehumanize ourselves when our mode of interaction and expression becomes solely electronic.

We become shadows of ourselves when we rely on a technological tapestry of our activity to define ourselves and show others who we are. Posts to social media can provide fodder to our friends that allow them to stay better plugged into the happenings of our lives. Checking in on friends online can be a great starting point to the next conversation you get to have with a person. The danger comes when our desire to keep tabs on a friend's life devolves into the only way we stay appraised of their lives.

This might be ok for old acquaintances from school or friends you might only care to see once in a blue moon. However, if our primary relationships - with parents, siblings, and best friends - evolve into this mode, the nourishment we need, the love that our being calls us to can give and receive back in kind, gets diluted. We go thirsty and find great difficulty finding legitimate sustenance through solely or heavily electronic relationship.

Let me offer myself as a case study, and cast the first stone at myself.

Pros? I turned off those little red numbers on my phone that tell me how many notifications I have in my Gmail or Facebook, and they also can no longer pop up in my lock screen. The camera in the iPhone is great, and it allows me snap pictures even if I forget or choose not to bring my point-and-shoot digital camera; plus, it syncs automatically to my laptop and is nifty for stuff at work and boosting my social media accounts there. Relatedly, I'm building a Twitter and Facebook following to try to get campus ministry and faith into the news-feed streams of teenagers and redeem some of the chatter that saturates those worlds. Finally, my dad loves picture messaging, especially about places we'd like to go as a family but can't necessarily all get to at the same time - sporting events, dinners out, visits to friends.

Cons? Texting and emailing is easier than ever, and my balance between just calling and/or visiting friends or co-workers in person can be tenuous. An in-person conversation can be so much more immediate and conclusive than the up-in-the-air-ness of email that I lean on too heavily. I, too, shoot photos and videos at sporting events and concerts. I try to limit myself to a select few pictures or a short video or two, but temptation can be strong. I think I did ok lucking into on-the-field seats at Notre Dame last weekend, and I only hope the memory is ingrained strongly from that one-of-a-kind experience. Most obsessively, I love the geo-tagging on Facebook. I love to post statuses or pictures on location and add locations to photos I post in batches. I meticulously went back in time and geo-tagged my photos on Facebook because I loved the map feature on my timeline and how it illustrated all the places I've been. It's definitely a guilty pleasure, and I know I've used it to brag.

What do you think? How do your social media and wireless capabilities affect your desire to create or control perception of you? Are you just telling it like it is and simply providing a link for people into your life? Are you very consciously and editorially choosing particular things to tailor an image? Are you complementing relationships through your usage or replacing interpersonal encounters with technological activity?

Even if you think your usage isn't troublesome, what about your intentions or motivations? Why are you checking in with a status and tagging the location? Why are you taking an Instagram of that sunset? Why are you checking your mail or refreshing your newsfeed?

At the end of the day, is the way that each of us use the technology at our fingertips oriented toward relationship or our own public image and perception? Is it emphasizing or belittling our humanity? Is it enhancing or diluting our human relationships?

Call to Worship: Lie in the Grass

From time to time, the delights of my job as campus minister give me the platform to speak to the school or groups of students. Here is the my Call to Worship to open our start of the year Mass, adapted from thoughts originally found in a previous blog on a homily I heard:

Good morning! Welcome to our Opening of the Year Mass, the first of many times when we will gather around this table to realize our unity in Christ. Right now we're on the brink of another school year. Looking ahead to nine months of classes, homework, tests, essays, and projects can seem daunting – and not just to you students, but also to the staff, administrators, and your teachers, too.

Let me tell you three simple facts.

1. Grass grows.
2. No one has ever seen grass grow.
3. If you laid down in a field for a long time, the growth would envelop you.
--Repeat--

Students, you might not want to go to class at all. You might not want to jump back into the deep end of schoolwork. You might already be getting tired of getting up early, working the whole day, and then going to after-school practices. You might feel like all these rules and prayers are cramping your style. You might feel like you don't have time to worry about God or what you believe in right now.

Teachers, you might already be dragging in lesson-planning or grading. You might be dreading that next test you have to write, then give, then grade, and then record to the gradebook. Staff and administration, you may already be drowning in a crowded inbox of emails or feeling overwhelmed by a filled-up voicemail box.

Let me tell you three simple facts.

1. Grass grows.
2. No one has ever seen grass grow.
3. If you laid down in a field for a long time, the growth would envelop you.

We may get tired, stressed, or frustrated as we dig into the new year. But we need to embrace patience. Patience that our routines will become comfortable and familiar. Patience that we can meet our deadlines and get our work done. Patience that we will learn each other's names, get to know each other, and make new friends. Patience that our GPA's can improve with hard work and focus. Patience that our God who made us and loves us is in fact with us always, already at work in our lives before we even wake up in the morning.

Our patience and dedication grows when we support each other. Bishop Noll is known as a family. The family that prays together, stays together. We come together to pray many times a day, and none is more important than our prayer around the Eucharist. Jesus comes to be with us and offers Himself to us. Let's come together to receive Him. And today when your Eucharistic Minister looks you in the eye and says, “The Body of Christ,” know that your Amen isn't just in response to a mysteriously bless-ed piece of bread. For we too are the Body of Christ, walking, breathing, living, and loving one another.

We can help each other's patience by our love and community. Let's start now, with this Mass, and commit to this family.

Grass grows. Great things have happened, are happening, and will continue to happen here. It's hard to see each bit of growth, but if you stick with it, the grass will envelop you.

A Submission on Submission

This post is my attempt to join in the discussion catalyzed by Rachel Held Evans' Let's Talk about Submission week. Visit http://rachelheldevans.com/ to join in the conversation and consider perspectives on mutual submission to another in response to the messages from the Epistles.

Here's my thoughts...

Submission conjures up some interesting images.

I think of writers busting their keyboards up with last minute copy as they scramble to sharpen a story ahead of a deadline.

I think of ultimate-fighters and wrestlers contorting their opponents' bodies into excruciating shapes until they tap out.

I think of Loki - in The Avengers - telling humanity that it only wants freedom from freedom, that absolute obedience to a higher source of authority is the true realization of freedom.

And the punster in me thinks of a submarine boat sent out on campaign in war - get it? sub mission?

The principle at play is some kind of yielding. Whether to a deadline or physical force, submission involves some level of deference, of letting go.

The idea of submission being mutual, then, is counter-intuitive. A writer couldn't submit their article mutually; a mixed martial-arts fighter couldn't get an opponent to tap out mutually; a villain couldn't demand mutual submission.

Mutual is not a natural modifier for the word submission, so how can the two be considered together? St. Paul's teachings come in the light of the Gospel of Christ, so submission gains a significant context.

Love.

In Christ, love is care for oneself and others that both gives and receives.

Sometimes, love can be exaggerated as love that must totally abandon all self-concern. However, we must love ourselves in order to truly share ourselves, following the example of Christ who allowed his hosts to treat him with hospitality, who allowed a woman to anoint his feet.

As usual, Christ manifests mysterious paradoxes to us and for us. We must let go of life in order to gain it. We must let go of ourselves in order to find ourselves. We must be served as well as serve.

In Christ, submission embodies the mutuality of true love. Christ, who is God, is love.

The greatest way to find love is to take the initiative in loving. When we give of ourselves selflessly and without condition, we open our hearts to mutuality. Others respond by filling us up with their love in kind. Such generosity and self-gift points the way to true relationship, to a two-way street of giving and receiving in which we can reflect our God, the Trinity who is Lover (Father), Beloved (Son), and the love shared between (Holy Spirit).

Mutual submission becomes possible when we meet one another on the common ground of unconditionality - care, attention, help, support, and compassion that is oriented toward emptying of self and filling up of another. In this way, the bonds we know through the mystical Body of Christ, like conduits running between each person and all their brothers and sisters, run feverishly with love.

Love enables us to give of ourselves while being filled up in kind. Sometimes, we can give more than others; other times, we may run close to empty and be in need of a big fill-up.

The Lord provides through our relationships, for His Holy Spirit - the love shared between us - dwells with us always.

Put it Down and Look Around

In the past few days, the links that appear in my feeds and inboxes all lead me to commentary on the saturation of technology and internet in daily life.

The Samsung Galaxy has been carpet-bombing us with propaganda to get us off our propaganda-driven Apple loyalties.

Rachel Held Evans tries to explain how we are in danger of becoming little more than the sum of our social media posts.

Then, my brother turns me on to an America article that argues pretty well that Apple is dangerously similar to religion, and even more damning than that, a dead-on commentary about the crooked angle Apple's newest commercials have taken.

That last article suggests that we're gonna look back on these Apple ads in particular as an example of how distracted we've gotten from what's important: "Apple’s consecrating the behavior [of staring on a screen], and even going on to say that their products, not the lives they serve, are 'what matters.'"

Let me back up a step or two. I am an Apple user, since buying my MacBook and iPod before starting college. And when my phone came up for upgrade earlier this year, dissatisfied with the messaging phone options from AT&T, I took the iPhone plunge, too, selling my iTouch so as not to limits the device depths into which I would wade.

The key to smart phones and mobile devices is moderation. Just like with sexual urges, drugs and alcohol, eating, and so many other things, the object, the action, at stake isn't bad, but our excessive (or sometimes overly minimal) use of it can lead us down a bad road.

Maps apps help us navigate and learn our way. Uber gets us a cab on the double. Yelp helps us find a good bite to eat. Laudate even gives Catholics all the goods on readings, prayers, and much more. The instant gratification is seriously dangerous, but moderate use gives us accessibility and the chance to do things we couldn't do before, or at least with greater ease and frequency.

The point of that last article I linked is that our usage of these devices - for example in these Apple commercials, for listening to music or taking photos and videos - can distract us from the presence of the moment. The mobile devices put great power into our hands, and it's not wrong for us to want to use it. It is troubling when our desire becomes fixation or addiction or compulsion. We're not so much choosing to do things on the device as we are simply just doing it.

The new Windows Phone commercials advertise its "reinvented zoom", a great new feature for those of us who have increasingly left our digital cameras in the drawer and opted to use our smart phone cameras more. But again, the challenge is to pick the times and places to bust it out rather than going on autopilot.

Anyone who's been to a concert or sporting event can attest to the proliferation of phones. I feel like people weren't this compulsory about photos and video before smart phones. We see spectacular photos and videos in the news, online, or in magazines, and we think there's no reason we can't join in. Even if we aren't as accomplished or artistically refined, we can become photographers and cameramen, but to what end?

Sometimes, we have a compulsion to take a photo or shoot a video, or sometimes we feel that we need a photo or video. Rather than experience that quintessential song live and absorb every ounce of the one-time moment, we watch through a screen of inches, trying to steady our hands and focus on our framing. Sure, we have a copy of the real deal to keep forever, but how does this impact the quality and longevity of that memory?

I worry about compulsion more than anything. At Mumford & Sons in the summer, I limited myself to two 30-second videos. On my email-linked apps, I turned off the little red numbers so that my compulsive phone-checking couldn't be entrenched by the satisfaction of having new e-mail. In notification center, I turned off alerts for everything except calls, texts, and calendar. I'm still wrestling with the phone-checking habit, a habit that's been around way before smart-phones, and even unlimited texts.

My hope is that my smart-phone habits can gravitate toward necessity and leisure and away from compulsion. I hope I just pull out my phone to check my maps app when I want to compare travel times and see when the next brown line train rolls in. I hope I check my email when I'm awaiting a particular reply from someone. I hope I check for calls and texts when I'm expecting a call or hoping to hear from someone.

The power we hold in our hands gives us great responsibility. It's up to us what to do with it. St. Paul says when he became a man he gave up childish things. We don't need to lose our childlike awe and wonder - take a picture of a pretty sky or sunset, shoot a fun selfie or two on location - but we do need to discover some degree of maturity in not only owning our freedom but choosing good, choosing presence to what's going on around us as the default rather than falling into tunnel-visioned stupor.

Use your connectivity to bolster relationships, organize yourself, maximize your time, and communicate better. Utilize the technology to make the good stuff happen then let's put our phones down and be with the world and be with others.

I Shall Oblige

What is a holy day of obligation? USCCB can give you an answer, and let me pitch in, too.

Holy days of obligations are special feasts that do not fall on Sundays that we are called to celebrate together. Sometimes it can be frustrating to have to get back to Mass a second time during the week, especially when it can be hard to get there on Sundays in the first place. Some of these special feasts have been translated to Sundays - Ascension and Epiphany sometimes - but this is less than ideal.

We go to these "extra" Masses to celebrate and reflect upon mysteries of our faith directly. Holy days of obligation allow the cycle of Sunday readings to continue uninterrupted and let us make a steady journey through the Scripture laid out for us by the carefully planned lectionary. It also gives specific space to these mysteries - All Saints, Immaculate Conception, etc. - to be considered and prayed over on their own.

Some of these causes for celebration do not come specifically from particular Scriptural narratives but from the understanding of faith that our Tradition affords us, so due reflection on them calls for a greater space than simply readings. Priests' homilies, the prayers of the Mass, and the petitions and personal prayers that follow help us focus on these great mysteries and reflect on the way they can especially illuminate our faith.

Another neat layer here is that the dating of many feasts in the Church come from Tradition that is based on careful considerations and deliberations, and, frankly, fascinating. The dating of Christmas and Easter in the early Church was a long, winding road (forgive the Wikipedia link); the 40 days of Easter before Ascension and 50 days before Pentecost draw milestones from Resurrection narratives, though Pentecost is also based in part on a pre-existing Jewish tradition; the dating of John the Baptist's and Jesus' feasts derive in part from reckoning the perfection of Jesus' life as a "perfect" 9-month pregnancy and John's gestation as one day askew - his birth is celebrated as being June 24, not June 25, though his mother is described as being in her sixth month when Mary visits with Jesus in her womb (one author's more thorough history here).

All are called to celebrate the Eucharist each Sunday, to do this in memory of Christ, as he asked - "this" meaning not just to receive Eucharist, but come together as a community, to be taken, blessed, broken, and shared, to become what we receive, to be sent forth to glorify God by our lives. However, not everyone is called to do this on a daily basis, to be a daily-Mass-goer.

The way to pray and worship for most rests, as usual, in the middle ground. You don't need to go every day, but you can't just go when you feel like it. Sundays are our memorialization of Christ's resurrection, in which we as baptized Christians celebrate the life, death, and rising of Jesus, in whose life, death, and rising we share. So we should all be doing that together and reveling communally in the awesomeness of all that.

While Sunday Eucharist fuels the heartbeat of our sacramental lives of faith, holy days add special depth. Sundays are like visits to your general physician who will give you the comprehensive check-up and can capably tend to any of your maladies; holy days are like specialists who can tend to specific ailings and parts of you.

Holy days call us to reflection upon more specific people and events - Mary, Mother of God, the Ascension of Christ, the communion of saints, the Immaculate Conception... Holy days give us the occasion, and with the help of the Mass, its prayers and readings, its priest and homily, and the community we share, the means by which we can reflect on the mysteries of faith.

Hold the Relish

In periodic news perusings, I found the headline on CNN's website - which is increasingly appearing in giant-fonted all caps - "VICTIM TO CASTRO: 'YOUR HELL IS JUST BEGINNING'".

I'm not even going to begin to imagine the "hell" that this man put these captive women through. He was ruled guilty of seriously heinous crimes (and immoral activities) and sentenced to a whopping term in jail. And rightfully so.

But our attitude toward these people is seriously skewed. These women have every right to vent their anger, frustration, and serious emotional damage in the wake of being liberated. But then what? What happens after our righteous indignation fizzles? These women must live their lives, and this dude will rot in prison.

All of them continue being people. All of them continue to be worthy of being dignified as humans and children of God through mercy and compassion, whether as free women attempting to recover as much as possible or as an indefinitely incarcerated criminal. What attitude do we have toward criminals, especially after our initial outrage fades?

It brings me back to 2011 when news broke that the US had gotten Osama bin Laden. President Obama strode out to a podium to proudly proclaim to the world that the infamous terrorist had been captured and killed, marking a serious milestone in America's war against terror.

How did so many people react? By swarming to huge crowds and cheering the death of another person. It's too nuanced to expect from a mob scene, but I would hope we could celebrate the righteous actions of America (though the morality is arguable) and the advance of freedom at the expense of terrorism. The Church rightfully came out to proclaim that Christians do not rejoice at the death of another - well said by our bishops.

It's an interesting double standard in our increasingly relativist world. People don't want to be held to an absolute, universal moral standard, or to hold others to it, yet there are certain things they can and will get riled up about to the point of mobbing and rioting to proclaim it.

We shouldn't delight in the harm done to another person. We might find peace in justice being done, but we have to withhold our desires to enjoy the trials of others too much. Schadenfreude is a dangerous thing. It is highly tempting to delight in the problems of others. I know I love to see USC and Michigan football struggle, to see players I don't like miss shots or strike out, but I have to try to fence off my delight so it supports the triumph of my team and doesn't relish the fall of others.

I'll always root by butt off for the Cubs, Bears, Bulls, Hawks, and Irish, but I'll be darned if I'll root actively against the White Sox and Cardinals, Packers and Vikings, Pacers and Heat, Red Wings and Blues, or USC and Michigan. It's not worth my energy to begin with. But additionally, true fandom (and love for that matter!) is cheering for your side and not against the other. Victory comes in the success of one side moreso than the failure of another (most of the time).

Such a distinction may be nitpicky; it may even be practically impossible. However, we follow the model of the one dude who did achieve perfection. And in Christ, we have the example of perfect freedom, perfect love, and perfect justice. Perfection may be beyond our grasp, but let's keep seeking it. And let's not delight in the shortcomings of others along the way!

Catholic Absolutism as the Middle Ground

I love to identify extremes and discover morally, virtuously rich middle grounds. This can be a hard exercise today when so many voices, personalities, bloggers, and op-ed'ers are yelling so loud that you start to block it out or else mistake moderation for extremism because of the exhaustion.

In attempting to teach ethics and morality to teenagers, and in conversing regularly with friends and family in the same realm, I find the trends of relativism that Benedict XVI sought so fiercely to articulate and discredit are strong and real.

Here's an attempt to describe the apparent extremes I've seen, even if they're not the technical, philosophical endpoints. On the one hand, there are rigid absolutists, seeking to describe universal moral principles and militaristically hold all people to certain behavioral expectations. Conversely, there are relativists who believe that every one can make their own morality to govern behavior, which ought to be subject to little or no accountability from any one or any thing.

What's the middle ground? I would posit that true Catholic morality - absolutism coupled with Christian compassion - sets the standard.

Using a bit of extremism myself, I walked students through the example of honor killings in SE Asia. If a woman commits adultery with a man and thus brings dishonor to her family and the only way the family believes honor can be restored is by killing her, shouldn't they be allowed to do it? Obviously not. The students rightly identified that regardless of their culture, they can't murder someone, except maybe for a capital crime. They can have some unique cultural practices, but they can't murder.

I tried to show them that relativism doesn't hold because even relativists usually admit some basic universal moral standards; in this case, murder is always wrong. I think they tend to want moral requirements to be minimal and for us to be patient, slow to act upon holding others to the standard, or even stand aside altogether. They also don't want to be judged when in reality, the best teachers, parents, and even friends are the ones who hold you, me, and them accountable.

Ultimately, they know deep within that there are behavioral rules that everyone should follow; that certain things are just plain wrong; for example, most people would acknowledge the truth of the 10 Commandments.

Where's the disconnect then? They don't like how expansive the rules apparently are, and they don't like the idea of having to tell someone they're wrong or to be told by another that they themselves are wrong. Amid ESPN's coverage of Ryan Braun, Rick Sutcliffe said Braun lied to his face in an interview, adding, "If he was guilty, he could just say so, and I'd look the other way."

As our yearlong course unfolded, I aimed to show them that, yes, the Church can and often will respond to just about any ethical, moral, social issue, but that the Church doesn't necessarily have explicit, flowerly-languaged teachings printed on gilded parchment for each of the issues. We are simply responding to the example of Christ as we understand it through our Scripture and Tradition. Our faith provides us a thorough, consistent, and coherent message that can and does respond readily to our moral dilemmas.

And most importantly, the example of Christ - loaded as it is with serious moral demands and a strong call to choose good - is one of compassion. The best morality is one that is both absolute and compassionate. We must follow Augustine's call to love the sinner and hate their sin. This requires us to identify selfish, hurtful, loveless actions when others do them, yet to do so in a way that is caring and oriented toward love, toward, Heaven, toward the Kingdom.

The temptation many of us face in an attempt to be loving is to let sin and evil occur unchecked. That is easier but wrong. We have to engage a person for their goodness and dignity as a created child of God and call out how they've ignored or damaged this quality about them. At the same time, we must scrutinize ourselves in the same way, including allowing others to point us toward God and good.

The way forward may be to acknowledge the pairing of right and righter within our behavior, to recognize the vestiges of goodness within our intentions and actions that is coopted by evil and darkness.

Maybe my temptations toward pornography vaguely represent my recognition of the beauty of people and my sexual desire to marry and procreate, but it is being perverted by self-serving tendencies and my propensity to objectify people.

Maybe our temptations toward heavy drinking and drugs indicate our desire to enjoy our lives and world and creation and build community with others, but those pursuits are clouded and diluted by self-mutilation and failure to treat our bodies as the temples-of-the-spirit that they are.

Maybe our temptations toward lying express our desire to reach our full potential and be the best versions of ourselves but get wrongly detoured into deception, fueled by hidden insecurities, or encouraged by laziness.

The best morality corrects relativism's contradictions with recognition of universal morality and tempers the rigidity of absolutism with loving compassion. We cannot lapse into an anarchic live-and-let-live attitude or become robotically itinerant and detach from humanity by obsessing over a certain code.

We must enflesh the call to goodness and God by holding ourselves and one another to a standard of choosing right through the love modeled by Christ.

Summer Buffet (Love, SBNR, DOMA, and the Kingdom)

Chalk it up to summer vacation, but I have plenty of time to write and not enough to write about. Or maybe I have plenty to write about and too little focus to synthesize it. Let me try to offer a few nuggets from the summer sandbox of life...
__________

As indicated in my last post, I love to see authentic examples of people helping each other, giving love in seemingly ordinary ways and affirming the full dignity of people. Though I don't go for the cheesy background music and corny staging, I think Liberty Mutual got it right - these little actions give us small reminders that people are good at heart, that we do have generosity and good will within us. And seeing it in action can reenergize us to choose good and God over evil.

As my flight from Ontario, CA, began its descent into Seattle, WA, it was confirmed that our delayed takeoff had made our arrival late as well. This posed a problem for people on connecting flights, as we were to land around 8:30pm and they were connecting to the last flights for the day. Our flight attendants announced the connecting flights' info, told us the flight to Portland would be held for those 13 passengers, and that a bus would be waiting to zip them over to their gate.

She asked those passengers to hit their call buttons so we could see where they were sitting and boldly asked that we all allow these folks to disembark first. Whoa, I thought. Yeah, right. Maybe she's new. Maybe she hasn't seen people getting off a plane before - everyone for themselves, all-out rush to the plane door. But she made the request and hoped people would acquiesce.

Sure enough, as the "fasten seat belts" light was turned off, most everyone remained seated, and a dozen or so hastily began to move out. I was in delighted disbelief as some anxious Portland-bound travelers hustled out, around rows of still-seated passengers. It was awesome to see the apparent foolhardiness of our flight attendant get redeemed by a crowd of understanding (even if reluctantly) travelers.

Go humanity.
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This Sunday at Mass in Seattle, the priest included in his homily that around half of Washington residents claimed no religion in their census reporting. I reflected on this phenomenon - "the rise of the nones" and the proliferation of being "spiritual but not religious" - at the beginning of my first year in campus ministry in a brief apologetic for religion and Catholicism and what might be missed by those who avoid it.

And now as I correspond with the chaplain who will be my partner in crime as I begin year two at a new school, I wonder how this new spiritual terrain in America can be an advantage for us as we attempt to create a school environment that is fertile for Christian-Catholic faith.

My gut reaction is to view it as a negative, evidence of an entrenching secularism, of people practicing religion poorly and alienating others by their ways. Surely, there are downfalls to the growth of these trends. However, I imagine there must be a way to engage this growing social norm in a way that is compassionate, constructive, and responsive to the Gospel and the Church.

How can the individualism, curiosity, and seeking of SBNR's lead them back to faith? What about organized religion and the Catholic Church can be emphasized to appeal to nones? What experience of faith and spirituality will speak most effectively to SBNR's and nones?

As my brain recombobulates, I hope I can put some of the pieces of that puzzle together.
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The hysteria over the DOMA ruling was quite the firestorm. I almost couldn't go on Facebook for the day in the midst of all the extremism flying both ways, the loudness of voices and capitalization of letters overshadowing the tempered middle.

I find myself in the middle. I believe marriage is the sacrament that unites a man and woman for the procreation and union of a family. I also believe that two homosexuals can have romantic love for each other and can and should commit to one another for the whole of their lives, but I don't think that is a marriage.

I am all for same-sex unions getting legal recognition by governing bodies, access to joint tax filings, reformed inheritance/estate laws, revised hospital visitation rules, and other practical things that allow their union to achieve legal/social equality. However, their commitment, while just as potentially strong as heterosexual marriage (which I think is a redundant phrase), is not a marriage - it cannot procreate or produce intimate union the way that marriage does.

My greatest concern as religion comes under greater and greater siege - abortion laws proliferating or holding steady, new anti-abortion laws coming under fanatical attack in Texas, the ACA and HHS mandating birth-control access for free and Obama's breaking his promise to Notre Dame from commencement - is that the approval of same-sex unions will require churches to host these ceremonies. I don't think this trend is far from insisting that churches allow gay couples to use churches as the venue for their ceremony.

I think there may be a way for my Church to outline the liturgical blessing of a covenant, something more akin to a Holy Orders-esque commitment to a person/partner, but not before we spend serious thought and attention discerning how something like that can be explained and understood. And that needs to be preceded by a serious recommitment to practicing what we preach - compassionate embrace of our homosexual brothers and sisters and a call for chastity from all unmarried people. For now, the state of things scares me because the discourse and discussion is being overcome by a borderline-bandwagon stream of populism that wants change quick and dirty.
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2+ years removed from writing my senior theology thesis, heading into the "junior year of life", I continue to feel grateful for the time I was able to spend researching and synthesizing understandings of the Kingdom of God.

I continue to be most grateful that my primary goal - articulating a practical, spiritually useful, relevant-to-daily-life explanation of the Kingdom - was realized, largely through the wisdom of Pope Benedict XVI. Quick recap:

The Kingdom of God is best understood through some balance of a trinity of senses, which Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, now Pope Benedict XVI, describes well. First, the Kingdom has a “Christological” dimension. Reaching back to Origen, Ratzinger explains that Jesus is the “autobasileia, that is, the Kingdom is person.” This dimension makes the Kingdom into a kind of Christology itself. Next, the Kingdom has an “idealistic or mystical” dimension, which sees “man’s interiority as the essential location of the Kingdom of God.” Finally, the “ecclesiastical” dimension shows the Kingdom of God and the Church as related in some ways and brings them into “more or less close proximity.” -Based on (with quotes from) Jesus of Nazareth (Part I), p. 49-50

The idea is that we should understand the Kingdom as being within us, within our Church, and within Christ.

We can experience the Kingdom when we do the will of God, follow the Gospel call from Christ; as in the Lord's Prayer's sentiment "thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven", we experience Heaven when our will aligns with God's will.

We can experience the Kingdom when we celebrate in prayer and worship with our Christian community, which memorializes what Christ has done for us, thanks Him for what He does, and looks forward to what He will do. When our communal work (liturgy!) happens this way, we glimpse the Kingdom.

We can experience the Kingdom through the person of Christ. Our experiences of Him in our giving and receiving love, in the Word, and in the Sacrament manifest the Kingdom.

All of these moments of clarity are both previews or foreshadows as well as brief temporal experiences of the Kingdom of Heaven. This guiding hand of Benedict toward a real understanding of where the Kingdom is seen and felt led me to a deeper understanding of what Jesus talked so much about.

Keep seeking the Kingdom in yourself, in service with the Church, and in Christ!

Fantasmic Illuminations ;)

I had the heavenly pleasure of gallivanting about the magical environs of Disney World and The Wizarding World of Harry Potter with my dear girlfriend, Katherine, serving as the executor of many wonderful donations from family and friends to celebrate her graduation with a fun trip.

Disney immerses you in a world of beloved characters, fantasy-turned-real-life settings, and nostalgic narratives brought to life. All of this brings you so easily to a place of wist, wonder, and can't-wipe-the-smile-off-your-face happiness.

Here and there we would run into annoyance and discontent.

I have an incredibly short fuse for people who walk at a snail's pace, or, even worse, stop in the middle of a pathway. I don't mind the slowness or gawking or stopping; just do it off to the side please! It makes me long for a cattle prod that I could use to cast aside the people standing in the way of us movers.

Sometimes in lines, people will become oblivious of the gradual progress their compatriots are making toward the ride and fail to move forward, leaving a tantalizing empty space between you and the ride. It's just helpful to the longing I feel in the queue if I know I'm making progress, you know?

The wonderful Disney employees had their moments of obnoxiousness, too. Some of them are really good at standing and talking to two or three of their fellow cast members rather than helping you. This came to a head when a hungry and tired Dan and Katherine were hopelessly searching for a unique meal after four straight days of amusement park food. We strolled up to a sit-down place where three hosts/hostesses aloofly blabbed away while we futily waited to be offered a menu.

And some struggle to organically grasp the elation of the world, trying to buy it with private character meet-and-greets, expensive visits to gift shops, or superfluous luxuries tacked on to the already high price of admission.

The important thing, though, is that these recognitions are fleeting, and obscured by the constant giddiness of being immersed in such a beautiful world. Even though I don't know the words to every song, I will always have a soft spot for pretty much all things Disney. Just wanted to identify some frustrations so as not to give the impression that I'm brainwashed or something!

The Tiki Room reminds me of childhood family vacations. Star Tours brings to mind the time when Chewbacca scared the crap out of my mom by sneaking up from behind. Tomorrowland Transit Authority was the site of much tomfoolery in my high school days. And now the Laugh Floor will remind me of the new generation of fun and frivolity at Disney. Everywhere there are memories of past visits, of beloved movies and characters, and new memories waiting to be made now and in the future.

I think my favorite memories this time around came from the people we saw. I loved the preponderance of help and love I could see at every turn.

For instance, the park is peppered with strollers and wheelchairs.

At various points, "stroller parking" areas harbor dozens and dozens of these little chariots. These are the means by which parents bravely undertake day-long adventures with inexhaustible little dreamers, often impervious to fatigue. Not only do they try to figure out which ride or character these volatile little humans want to check out; they even allow the kiddos time off their feet, without getting much of a break themselves. These moms and dads get quite the workout walking the environs of these mega-parks while pushing 50 lbs. of precious cargo ahead of them. God bless parents.

Then there's the handicapped. Sure, some of the groups heading backwards into rides via the exit ramps don't look real injured. But for the most part, I saw determined people pushing their own wheels, seeking the same Disney experience as those on two legs. And I saw others who couldn't propel themselves graciously receiving the help of family and friends.

I personally find that seeing and being around handicapped people lays me bare in a great way - I find a purity about their countenances and smiles that is really beautiful. I think God uses the apparent evil of handicap, defect, or disorders to give us constant opportunity to love, for us to show that the love of Christ overpowers any evil. We ought to oppose the root causes of suffering, but we should encounter the suffering in our world with compassion in action.

I saw little kids pushing the wheelchairs of their family and friends. On the shuttle bus to the park, I saw a blind man being led by a woman (sister? cousin? girlfriend?) to his seat on the bus and on to a day at the parks. And I even saw a little boy who could barely walk become a powerful prince.

In the new and improved Fantasyland at Magic Kingdom, they have an attraction called Enchanted Tales with Belle. From Disney's website:

Be magically transported from Maurice’s cottage to the Beast’s library for a delightful storytelling experience. You’ll meet and spend time with Belle, and you may even be invited to play a part in the story. Will you be an enchanted object, or perhaps fill the role of the Beast with a heart of gold?

Katherine and I stayed out of the way as a Disney cast member casted the children in our group of a few dozen people to play their parts in Belle's story. These children, holding little costume props, would be the "actors" in the live retelling of a tale by Lumiere, standing to narrate on the mantle, while Belle, who surprised us later on, would play the part of herself.

At one point, everyone was asked to give their best roar. The kids playfully let out a little scream, leaving the cast member with a tough decision. Near the middle of the room was a mom and dad with a rather bulky stroller and a son who, at first glance, looked a bit too big and old for a stroller. His parents had to hold his arms as he stood, despite the fact that he looked plenty old enough to walk. Next to the carriage was a tiny walker, with sturdy handles and little wheels. And the boy who stood next to it, who had let out a solid roar, didn't have strong enough legs to walk on his own.

Our Disney cast member walked straight over to this little guy and asked him to play The Beast. As he smiled, she tied a majestic red cape around his neck, and he took proudly to his walker with the help of his mom. His beaming smile and delight couldn't be interrupted as the rest of the parts were cast. At the end, everyone needed to practice their parts once more before showtime. When it came time to give one more practice roar, our little hero was more than up to the challenge.

As we were led into the library for the show, the little actors took their places up front, and Belle appeared to lead the show. Every little toot needed the Disney cast members to set them up for their moment in the sun - the best one was the kid playing the horse who rather dutifully and without inflection answered Belle's question with, "I. DON'T. KNOW. NEIGH. NEIGH. NEIGH."

I was welling up as I watched the little man in his cape swivel around on his walker to see all the parts of the show. Then came his big moment with Belle, and God bless the actress, she got down on her knees in her ballgown to talk with him. And when it came time for their big dance, she continued to kneel beside him and move in little steps to match his.

I choked back my tears as the show's hero kissed her on the cheek. I was so ecstatic that this Disney cast member who probably casts dozens of these shows every day saw fit to put a cape on this differently abled little man. She could have easily picked another kid or tried to flirt with a dad or young man instead, but she chose to give this lil guy the moment he deserved. There was no hesitation for his physical shape or ability; she just heard his roar and gave him the cape he was born to wear.

In the midst of so much money changing hands - of pricey tickets, expensive knick-knacks and souvenirs, meals whose cost don't reflect their quality, people trying to use money to create happiness - the greatest love was found in simply leveling the playing field, through treating people with full dignity. The magic of Disney is so potent in its themed lands, amazing rides and attractions, and the settings one can wander through. But it takes on its most human, its most loving form, in the way people were treating each other.

Moms pushing strollers. Dads taking off backpacks to reveal giant sweat stains, shaped like the backpack they'd just removed. Siblings pushing wheelchairs. Parents holding the hands of their little ones, waiting dutifully to meet a character or ride the dream ride. People telling other people that they are worth just as much, carry just as much value, regardless of their age, physical ability, or anything else, but not in often-empty words - in simple yet profound actions.

In this case, the simple donning of a cape to a crippled young man took us past his physical disability and on to his humanity. His life is just as dignified and valuable as everyone else's. His roar was just as good as everyone else's.

When Words Fail, and Love Keeps Overwhelming Us

One of my favorite songs by my favorite artist, Josh Ritter, is Another New World. It's a long, folktastic story song about the allure and downside of exploration and the fortunes, or lack thereof, of one particular explorer. As the man and his expedition set sale for the North Pole, with the thought that they can discover this new world beyond the ice, Josh sings, "But I never had family, just the Annabel Lee, so I never had cause to look back."

I have had this problem ever since I started my driving lessons. When you're ready to make a left turn, you look left, right, and left again, and when it's clear, you go for it. I would always go for it but then look again over my shoulder to make sure I was clear. My driving instructor tried to brake this habit in me. However, I still do it to this day.

My tendency to look back is warranted here, as behind me are tons of amazing students and incredible teachers whom I will no longer see and work with every day.

The magnitude of this parting - leaving this amazing high school and its students and community after one year - continues within me, as now I move from being in the midst of the partings to the epilogue, my six weeks between walking away from my wonderful "job" one last time and packing the car to move back to the Midwest. As I walked toward my car from graduation, a few students stopped me to say a last goodbye, and I joked, "There's a horse waiting for me in parking lot, already saddled up, to ride off into the sunset."

But it's not that easy. And I don't want it to be that easy. Experience only takes root through reflective processing. So here we are again.

I thanked God today because the peace He has sown within me isn't a peace that numbs me to the nature of the present moment or one that removes sensitivity to emotions. Rather, my God-given peace leads me to reflect on it all, the emotions serving as the fuel for my mind to pore over the reality.

It feels so strongly like I'm leaving a retreat... still. Retreats lead you to come off an emotionally intense, spiritually enriching, holistically renewing experience, that is built on the vulnerability and sharing of others and the community you all cultivate together. Leaving a high school after a year of working intensely in theology teaching, campus ministering, and relationship building magnifies these feelings to immense proportions.

In my recollection, I find myself trying to move back to the partings that resemble this one in magnitude and reclaim the lessons they offered:

Sitting at one of my student's (my adopted little sister's) grad parties Saturday with a few other teachers, I thought - did I invite teachers to my party? As far as I could remember, it was just a few: my campus ministers, Fons and Bro. John. And I'm proud that, to this day, John and I are still friends. That a punky 18-year-old kid recognized the value of a relationship enough to keep up his end of the bargain to sustain it enough. I saw him just a few weeks ago, and will see him much more when I return to Chicago. I feel good that a few of my students will help carry the torch of relationship into the future.

I think of parting with the Notre Dame Folk Choir and the air of senior week at Notre Dame. And I remember reminding my friends all year long that we don't need to dramatize the "lasts" because we had cherished and lived fully the 1st, the 27th, and the 74th of everything the right way. The lasts are noteworthy for being part of the end, but we need not overemphasize them or change how we roll on account of the end. And sure enough, our last concert on tour in San Diego was quite the dud for reasons beyond our control. And I was able to laugh it off, knowing that it was the dozens of concerts before that one that defined my memories and legacy.

I remember being a Mentor-in-Faith with Notre Dame Vision, and the intensity of the fraction rite of the 2011 community. The nature of working and living with the same people in a spiritually rich environment brings out incredible depth of relationship because a summer is long enough to get to know someone and grow close to them but just short enough where you don't really grow tired of each other! Amazing relationships were formed, and some of the most important relationships in my life were strengthened to new levels as well. The final Mass we celebrated - impromptu, clearing the chairs out of a small chapel to pack 70 people in, a priest in plain clothes and gym shoes under his vestments, a sign of peace that was thorough in length yet deeply genuine - was perfect. As our chaplain broke the bread, my friend recalled seeing the reflection of everyone in the metal of the patin, while at the same time I was thinking that each of those pieces of the Eucharist were every one of us. We were the most powerful manifestation of a Eucharistic people I had ever experienced, and in the Mass we became what we received: Christ - taken, blessed, broken, and shared for all.

I think also to those kids who were in my small groups. I kept up with some by email or Facebook messages. Gradually, the response rates dwindled, and the few times they'd reached out to me fell away. Now and then, I'll drop a line to one or two of them, but the sustained relationships never materialized. However, God provides - in one Triduum alone, I saw two kiddos who are now undergraduate seminarians, another who studies at Holy Cross, and a fourth who I invited to sit next to me rather than let her sit alone. Each encounter was beautifully affirming. My former "kids" remembered me exactly and were truly happy to see me, and they engaged me as individuals, as adults with their own worlds and stories that they continued to be willing to share rather than reverting to earlier years and clinging to past memories.

Our relationships were easily and comfortably picked up again in these new encounters. The right groundwork had been laid in the way we interacted at Vision because we were seeking relationship in the right ways - giving and receiving love, seeking humor but not at the expense of seriousness, finding Christ in our community. The best relationships are the ones that, even without maintenance when life gets too much in the way, can be picked up again because of the strength of the bond.

And such relationship can happen, in part, because of my attitude, because of what I am seeking and how I go about finding it. The way I engage and interact honestly, friendly, personably, with these students is my contribution to what God will work in and through us. So by building upon my positive experiences with these students, I can and have and will continue to find such live-giving spiritual friendships, relationships in which I can be a positive influence on the person's faith, bring them closer to God, and give and receive love as I learn to be a better builder of the Kingdom.

The Gospel on Sunday morning crystallized this whole thing for me. As the disciples worry about how to feed the multitudes who have come to hear Christ, Jesus calms them down and asks for what food they have gathered. With a glance toward God and the invocation of a blessing, these bits of food feed the thousands with lots leftover. God fills the hungry with good things, even when it looks like there may not be food there for us to munch on. God uses me in his terms of love rather than human terms of limitation and frailty. God takes the few loaves and fishes that I see myself as and shows me that love is not a finite sum to be measured out and allocated.

I don't have to worry about where I'll find my "next meal." I must simply remain close to God, as I have so far on this path, and He will continue to match me up with people and communities that need what I can offer and will feed me in turn. I will miss the little brothers and sisters that I have to leave behind, and we will hold a piece of each other's hearts dearly. However, as I keep in touch with some while others fade into memory, there are some waiting who can use my help and form me as well.

I take delight in the universality of our Church, in the presence of goodness and grace and faith in so many disparate locales of our world - how the love of Christ manifests itself in beautiful and different ways in His family all over. And within this global glory are places where I can teach and learn, where I can lead and serve, where I can give love and receive it.

I once described faith in the mystery of God as a bridge that leads out into a fog. You can't see clearly across the bridge to what lies beyond, but you know that bridges are solid connectors of one area to another. So you walk out onto the bridge, into the uncertainty of the fog, knowing - without seeing for certain - that there is something on the other side. Our faith tells us that Heaven, that the eternal love of God, waits there, the destination towards which we constantly move.

The emotions of these next steps surely merit this reflection, but they should not and do not arouse paralysis or hesitancy. They fuel me to try, as Teresa of Avila says, to continue to be the hands and feet of Christ for others.

When Words Fail, and Love Overwhelms Us

As I wade into the trenches of perhaps the most intense parting of my life - rivaled only by leaving Notre Dame and beginning the long distance chapter of my relationship with my girlfriend - I find emotion and insight swirling about me. I remain grounded in my contextualized perspective that leaving  must involve carrying what you've found and who've you become with you as you move on. However, the emotions power through that truism to demand a deeper perspective.

Allow me to muddle through it all with you.

The relationships I have formed with these students are of a flavor I have yet to experience. I focus so intently on these students that I often neglect to build relationships with colleagues. I leave behind a few dear friends who happen to also be co-workers, but on a larger scale, my impact was quite minimal in the landscape of the staff. This is an added wrinkle I must develop as I mature because quality campus ministry depends so heavily on collegiality. I just freeloaded on the pre-existing teamwork in my current job whereas in future endeavors I will have to be more proactive about cultivating such a community to support the work I'll shepherd.

In terms of the students, the kind of presence I am for and with them is mostly new for me. It was hinted at by my experience as Mentor-in-Faith with Notre Dame Vision, when the age difference was similar. However, it takes that paradigm and blows it up to massive proportion, from a five-day intensive course to a year-long journey together.

The relationships are given fuller term to develop and grow, so they take on such nuance and particularity. I get to become the go-to for different people for different things. I can wander the grounds of our campus, encounter different students, and be excited for their various entreaties. I become the big brother to dozens upon dozens of beloved little brothers and sisters.

At first, the jokes about leaving were easy to deflect - "You're leaving me!?" or "How can you leave us?!", often emoted in artificially dramatic exclamations. However, as the reality of parting creeps nearer, the comments have taken deeper root and a profound personal character - congratulations for my new job and my scholarship, authentic excitement that my girlfriend and I get to live near each other finally, actual tears of disbelief that I won't be back, heartfelt affirmations that I'm one of their favorites, notes and unsolicited exclamations of joy about the connections we've forged or the way their faith has grown this year, and kids' even saying "I love you" straight up.

This is when is gets real. That's when I can't just smile and laugh and say someone else will come and make a new difference or that I'm not worth it. That's when I just want to hug my students and never let go. That's when words fail, and love overwhelms us. This is what Christ meant when He reassured that where two or three are gathered, there am I in the midst of them.

I had the thought that this must be how priests and celibate religious are sustained. I remember asking a priest at my high school how he goes on without a wife or kids, and he told me and my fellow students that he looks at us as his children. Now I really understand what he meant. We didn't just fill in a gap for him; we really were his kids. The love that can be shared when a priest or nun or even a Dan invests his/herself completely into a community abounds and overflows one's cup through the quality and depth of relationships that can form.

These relationships aren't just the means to fulfilling one's vocation or paying the bills; they are the fuel that keep the heart pumping to give and receive the love of God constantly. For me, I need the sustenance of an exclusive human relationship, of someone who gets me better than anyone else, who prioritizes me highly in her life, and gives me the love of God first so I may return it and pass it on. But in the midst of this sea of love, I see how the priest or sister, who embraces this different challenge, can navigate the celibate life and carry on in joy.

This reality recontextualizes my emotional state beautifully. As I sign yearbooks, pose for and take pictures, and share my email address with my dear teenage friends, I can't help but feel like I would at the end of a retreat. The retreat high carries you through the final day, the partings, and the shock of reentry to life, but it is sure to fade. Currently, I'm riding the high.

I'm delighting in the pictures. I'm laughing at the texts. I'm basking in the love of emails and notes. And I, a self-proclaimed retreat junkie, know better than most that it will most certainly fade.

Yet I also know better than most that just because the high fades doesn't mean that the faith and love within me have to fade, too.

The greatest way to sustain the good feelings of happiness is through the relationships that created those good feelings. Happiness is fleeting and surface-level; joy is deep-seated in the heart and lasting. These young men and women are the smile on my face, the love in my heart, the confirmation that my gifts and passions are serving the needs of God's world. I cannot force them to text, call, email, Facebook message, or even to remember me, but I can invite them to maintain our connection with deep gratitude for what has been.

And that is just what I will do. True, beneath the too-often flimsy promises lies the reality that we all won't keep in touch perfectly. However, I find solace in the fact that a few will.

Every community and job and person that touches our hearts forever owns a piece of it. Thank God, love is not supplied finitely, and that these pieces of our heart are not limited edition. Those few who stay connected with me will remind me of the whole and keep alive the part of my heart that is forever theirs.

And as life and love carry me and you and all of us on the sea of life, our sacramental lives are the ebb and flow of the waves that carry us toward love and good and God. The Eucharist brings us the nourishment and renewal of the God who became man and remains close to us always. The reach of Jesus Christ transcends time and space to reinforce and sustain those relationships, in that Something and Someone who is bigger than any one of us, so that no matter how far and wide we may spread, or how many years elapse between our meetings, we remain ever intimately connected.