Rubberneckin'

The Chicago Blackhawks have become the hottest ticket in town. The Bulls still are a big draw, and the Bears only host eight regular season games a year (and not playoff games coming anytime soon) making them a perennial draw. Meanwhile, the Cubs are surging, and Sox fans continue to be passionate about their team but not as much about putting their butts in the seats.

When the ice is exposed at the Madhouse on Madison, every seat is filled, and extra fans are ringed around top of the arena, angling for a half-decent sight line from their standing room only pens. Tickets easily resell for 1.5-2x their original value (or more) for most regular season games, let alone the markups on playoff games for a team with three cups in six years. Chicago wants to be in that crazy crowded loud building to go crazy together.

I'm not sure if it's just human, or a majorly American thing, but we are attracted to a crowd. If two bars are on the same street when we're going out, most of us probably pick the more crowded one. If we walk past some commotion on the road or drive past a big group of people, we slow down and crane our necks to get a glimpse of what's going on.

These kinds of social realities are bearing down on the Church. As parishes engage with varying levels of Church attendance and parish involvement, it's hard for the Church to be able to play on this social tendency. It's hard to make a church appear to be like a hoppin' bar or a trendy restaurant or an eye-catching street performance, which is fine since I'm not sure that's what we should be trying to do anyway.

The pope's visit was helpful for this, because he drew such massive crowds and pervasive attention. However, as the honeymoon glow wears off, we're back to combating reductive headlines about intolerance of civilly remarried Catholics and grappling with tight budgets and parish/school closings. And trying as always to engage Catholics in Sunday Mass, regular Sacraments, and the chewy, sweet center of all the goodies in between.

These realities hit home for me in my job, where I work in a unique PreK-12 school. Our parish is pretty dynamic, and our early childhood and elementary schools are sturdy. However, our high school classes have just 30-40 kids each, and recruitment is a steeply uphill battle. As families compete for spots in Chicago's selective enrollment public high schools and strive for acceptance into the city's elite Catholic schools, we are left to sift through a dog-eat-dog landscape to find families that match well with us.

We can pitch our strengths - a small student body with excellent student-to-teacher ratio and great individual attention including small-group advisories, pervasive opportunity to be involved in clubs, sports, and extracurriculars with less students competing to climb over each other, a protege program to jump-start students' professional development, and ties into a parish that creates unique spiritual and resource opportunities. Couple this with the Campus Ministry I'm trying to jump-start, and we can offer some seriously intriguing things.

But we can't boast the curriculum portfolio of our competition, the college acceptance catalogues, the massive, constantly renovated campuses, the ginormous staffs, and more. Where these schools can draw a crowd and entice the masses, we are scratching and clawing to catch a glimpse from passersby.

It's tough to have a school-wide staff invest so much preparation in time, energy, and resources into recruitment at such a challenging rate and to see mixed results, but it challenges me to consider my motivations, especially with the students who are already here.

As I tried to create a new service and ministry team, I had one student come to the first meeting and four come to the second. I had to face up to facts: at my previous schools, getting 25 kids to something equalled 5% of the student body whereas here that's 20%. I have to recommit to quality over quantity, to relationship establishing and building. I have to zoom in from the big, exciting, flashy work to build a small core that can start to ripple out through the pond of our community.

I can't worry so much about numbers and percentage impact. I have to take the student or students who show up, who express interest, who make an initial effort, and find ways to utilize their interest and passion to give them something that engages their spirituality.

In my first months at my previous job, I struggled with the tension between trying to learn lots of names and get myself out there on a wide scale with the different approach of focusing on a core few. After a few months, I knew that it had to start somewhere and that I didn't have to feel guilty about connecting more strongly with the first few students who were starting to warm up to ministry.

Quicker than I realized, that core grew and grew until both goals were really being realized at once. From that handful of students who dove in first, the momentum snowballed and catalyzed the growth I hoped for as interest grew and grew.

As always, the grace comes in surrender. Goals and motivations are important, but they can't blur the focus on the end result. Fun and gratifying (and effective) as it is to build big groups of students, to do frequent service trips, to ramp up student leadership and formation involvement, it all is ultimately about establishing relationships that foster trust and develop gifts and passions. I have to focus on connecting with teens such that my involving them more in Christ helps them become more positively disposed to their faith and its potential to positively impact their lives.

It's so tempting to calculate my batting average on stuff, to percentage out success rates, to count the successes. I'd love to have a great minister's baseball card full of gaudy stats that would put me in the Hall of Fame on the first ballot.

Time to eat the humble pie, put the thoughts in perspective, and worry less about having the sold out arena, the crowded bar, or the flashy performance. I gotta just keep getting to know people whenever I have the chance, which is ultimately gonna be harder. Time to complain a little bit, think and pray through it, and try again.

Breaking and Entering?

This blog is evidence of a long, tortuous road. Along the way, it's taken lots of twists and turns.

It all started when a dear friend challenged me junior year of college to blog out some of the insights I would externalize during our weekly "Emmaus" group, in which we read and discussed the upcoming Sunday's readings. It developed quickly from there as a means for expressing that which I couldn't produce completely in theology course discussions or even spiritual conversations with friends.

I can pretty readily share my thoughts, and I even consider it a personal gift to be able to help others find the words to articulate what they're thinking. But there has always been something about blogging that forces me slow down that one extra gear, even though every post I've written here has been extemporaneously composed in one (sometimes two) sittings. And it pushed me to try to stretch out all of that into a book - a longer self-reflection on my faith at that point in my life. Then I lost it all in between backups when my hard drive crashed.

So circling around disappointment and perseverance, I gradually got my wits about me to get writing again, and a six-month old blog continued growing (even now reaching its 6th birthday). The pressure to write increased during my year in community, when I had to multi-task in posts every two weeks to our community blog, too.

Coming back stateside, I kept the blog going as I started to realize my vocational dreams, working in high schools and doing campus ministry with teens. There was always fodder for reflection and new ways to reflect on the goings on with them. Yet, there was still the wonder about becoming more of an author and starting to wonder about public speaking, too. And my best friend getting my first two years of blogging published in hardcover didn't hurt the fire either.

As thoughts festered, I finally figured out a plan to get the wisdom of my friends disseminated through my blog, and thus the72 was born. It was an up-and-down journey of invitation, revision, and publication, but my thanks go out to the 22 who got us within 50 of gathering that full series of vocational reflections. The important thing was never the amount but the quality of wisdom taken, blessed, broken, and shared for all!

So as the momentum for that fizzled once, reignited, and then flamed out for good, I again wondered if my energies should be directed to writing, editing, speaking, etc. But amid that serpentine curve, I stumbled into an opportunity to speak, applying for and being granted slots at the Archdiocese of Chicago Parish Leadership Day in February 2015.

Building on the theme of Sacraments, I gave two sessions, talking about answering our baptismal call and sharing an adaptation of my Sacraments talk from the Kairos retreat. I was very excited to have been selected, to have written up descriptions and appeared in a program guide, to be compensated for my gifts and expertise. I was excited to shape my remarks and create visual aids and handout business cards. Then, walking through a packed gym and navigating halls full of hundreds of guests, I gave two heartfelt workshops for a handful of people each. And having handed out cards to each of them, I got no callbacks.

Being a vicious combination of humility and arrogance, the minister in me was thrilled with the handful of personal conversations I had with my attendees before, during, and after our sessions. The arrogance in me was jealous and disappointed at the tiny turnout, especially amid such a jam-packed crowd for the day.

So as the72 faded and my inaugural day as a guy whose name tag had a "PRESENTER" ribbon drifted into the rearview, I got back to blogging, though less often that I'd always have liked, juggling it against my full-time job, part-time studies, and wedding planning. The itch, the bug, the wonderings sort of took a backseat, as the author/presenter in me just sat the next few plays out.

So now come fall, a new job has settled in on me; an almost-fully decorated (92% is the horizontal asymptote here) and lived-in marriage apartment holding its won; an easy semester of one online course letting grad school ease up on me a bit. And now the itch is getting scratched again.

As I wonder anew about writing more, about trying to figure out how to push myself (restart the72? be more active posting to my blog's social media? take another swing at being a speaker? as I find out Parish Leadership Day 2016 was cancelled), a new opportunity knocks.

A co-worker asks if I can refer her to anyone who could facilitate a Confirmation retreat for her parish's 8th-graders because their scheduled person had to cancel. I think for a minute and admit that all my friends and contacts are basically teachers or students, not facilitators. And then I shyly admit that I'm the only one I know around here with the right combination of experience and skills.

So now a few weeks, a couple emails, and a phone call later, I'm the facilitator for an afternoon mini-retreat for 80 8th-graders. She asked me about my ideas, my plans, and my fee (my fee! oh gosh, I didn't even know how to start an answer). I have a little time to synthesize my ideas and begin working with a DRE on what I'll do. And the door reopens... or a different door? Or the door's closed, but a window was cracked? Maybe the door was closed but not all the way? Am I just breaking and entering?

I have no idea what to make exactly of all these backs and forths, the to's and fro's along the way. But everytime I think it's fading all the way back down to my just randomly posting to the ol' blog, something pops up to re-expand the horizons. And I'm delighted that this continues to be the case.

Whenever I watch Shark Tank, I think that I could do have the kind of spunk and determination to be a self-made success, especially since I feel like few of those people have any kind of spiritual life to draw on and uphold them. Then I think well I could do it if I didn't have to spend my own money...or take on personal debt... or work 80 hours a week and lose sleep... or decrease time with my family... and I realize I'm not exactly an entrepreneur.

But then the stubbornly hopeful, idealistic part of me that refuses to bring work home, or work crazy hours, or let my job or studies consume my life, thinks that there has to be a way to become an author, or make it as a speaker, or build myself up into a presenter if I want it and it will build the Kingdom.

So here, another little opportunity pops into the picture. And I happily spring on to it, having no idea if it's the first of many or the one and only or what opportunities it might then breed. So on I go in open-ended discernment, having no idea what exactly lies ahead but thinking there's definite grace in the shaky attempts to do God's will.

Keep the Momentum

Did you guys see the Pope is in America? Pretty exciting stuff.

Among the myriad shared links, posted videos, and social reactions, one of my friends made the best observation: "Top trending topics on Facebook are Pope Francis, Junipero Serra, and the Little Sisters of the Poor. I give you the effects of an Apostolic Visit in the 21st century."

The Francis Effect is something to be reckoned with. Reaching back a few years, I, like many Catholics, had total faith in my Church, in its timeless teachings and truth, and in its mission to make Christ known, loved, and served, but I felt like we needed a PR makeover. We needed a way to communicate and share the awesomeness of our faith in a more effective way that spoke to more people, reached more people, and reengaged those who were falling away. Having stopped a few credits short of my journalism minor, I was not the man to create the vision.

Thank God for our pal Jorge.

Pope Francis has animated Catholicism and the Church with an authentic humanity that no ad blitz, PR strategy, or campaign platform ever could have executed. Francis goes out of his way to demonstrate his mundaneness as a human. He makes special effort to reach out to and embrace the marginalized. And he preaches orthodox-ly on the central tenets of our faith without changing them or watering them down.

And the Catholics love it. And the lapsed Catholics love it. And even non-Catholic Christians and non-Christians love it.

So what now? What do we do with all of the positive energy and glad tidings Francis is garnering for the Church in America? Though I am a few credits short of my Masters in Theology, that wouldn't qualify me in any special way to address this. Let me just come at it as a Mass-going, parishioner-registered, committed Catholic.

Everything Francis does - ev-vuh-ree-thin-guh - is informed and inspired 100% by his Catholic faith. When he stops to embrace a child who ran into the parade route, when he embraces the man whose face is marred by boils, when he washes the feet of Muslims on Holy Thursday, when he pays his own bill at the hotel, when he invokes Lincoln, Merton, King, and Day alongside Moses to the US Congress, he is living out the Catholic faith that has motivated, inspired, and sustained him as a man, a priest, a bishop, and a pope.

So when your non-Christian friends are attracted to Francis, engage with them on how Francis speaks to them in their faith tradition; learn how Catholicism and other faith traditions have common goals.

When your non-Catholic Christian friends affirm the faith life of our Pope, ask them why they admire him? Take the elements of Francis' faith that they identify with, and invite them to an increasingly tolerant, embracing perspective of Catholicism.

And most importantly, when your lapsed Catholic or I-was-raised-Catholic friends are captivated by Francis, invite them to come to Mass. At the core of his ministry, Francis is a priest, who most shares the faith that animates his life by proclaiming and preaching on the Word and then consecrating the Eucharist so as to share Christ with the sheep of his flock.

It is not a coincidence that Francis is an excellent human and Catholic. His thoughts, words, and actions are direct results of the Catholic faith that burns in his heart. He's not just a "good guy" who happens to be religious. His exemplary ministry proceeds inarguably from the convictions of his faith in Jesus Christ. If people from this increasingly large group really identify with Francis, challenge them to come reengage with the very source of Francis' vitality: the Eucharist, as celebrated at your local parish!

Often when I have been on retreat, and even more so as I've directed high school retreats, I see a vitality and energy in retreatants that is rarely found in the routines of everyday life. Something about the different space of a retreat center, the different timing of days on retreat, and the context of people vulnerably and authentically sharing creates a different atmosphere in which people realize a fuller sense of themselves, others, and God. It spawns a "retreat high," which drives people to want to stay on retreat, go on more retreats, and lead retreats. This is good, but it's best when it's reflected on, owned spiritually, and internalized to be lived out every day.

How can Francis' visit reinvigorate our faith lives to carry this joy and hope every day? How can we take courage and strength in the faith our Holy Father inspires in us to engage with non-Christians and seek common bonds? How can we reach across Protestant and Orthodox barriers to celebrate and mutually learn from an excellent Christian leader? And how can we invite distanced Catholics back into the core of the flock by building on our shepherd's outreach?

Don't let Francis' visit be a "retreat high." Take the positivity of his apostolic visit, reflect on it, and bring it with you into everyday life. Carry the joy of the Gospel from Francis and build bridges on the foundations that our Pontifex has laid.

Transitions: No, no, no, not in my house.

For a moment, I thought that I had found freedom. Freedom from the question I had been asked nearly too many times to maintain sanity: "Sooooooooooooo, how's the wedding planning going?"

To all of you who are simply kind, loving people who like to check in with their fellow humans and make a conversational connection, I apologize. I'm not much for small-talk. I'm an awkward, introverted extrovert, and I don't respond especially well to inanity.

The problem that multiplied my rage was that wedding planning wasn't hard. It wasn't challenging. It wasn't beyond my abilities. It was that it involved a kind of detail that I'm not interested in, that I have little expertise on, and that I don't really care to pay attention to. And it involves the kind of long-term, circular decision-making that eats away at me, as a task-oriented, linear thinking being. (And that the ratio of wedding planning to marriage preparation is WAY out of whack.)

But as the day comes, and the long-discerned details fall into place, the reality that the most detailed details don't really matter finally does sink in, and you try your best to slow time down to a savorable pace as you drink in everything that is your wedding weekend (as evidenced here and here).

Then you honeymoon, hopefully (we did), and you come back to sink your teeth into day-to-day- married life. And you realize that the small-talk question isn't gone; you're not free of it. It's just a different question now, "How was the wedding? How was your honeymoon?"

Ok, so now we're kind of past that one:

Itwasgoodsogladyoucouldmakeitwehadareallygoodtimeandimgladyoudidtoo.

(But I did revel in how many people were so touched and moved by our Wedding Mass, Sons' Dance, and wedding favor.)

Now we're into a combination of "how's married life?!" and uncomfortable insinuations toward our sex life and whether or not we're pregnant, with too many people insisting that we are or will soon be (only the Lord knows). And my impatient internal monologue has to find a deeper, fuller patience to stop being a jackass and give authentic, quality answers to people. Because they have taken the time to chat with me.

But the point I want to dwell on here is this juncture that Katherine and I are at now. It's been weeks since our honeymoon. I've started a new school year at work, and her new job begins soon. Our apartment is as set up and staged as it's going to be, and we've lived in it together long enough that we've made it our own, in both pretty and sloppy ways.

Basically, the "honeymoon period" is over and "real life" has more than begun. So now the question of "how's married life!?" isn't just a conversational small-talk; it's a self-reflection point, constantly.

So far, so good, we say, while eliciting cynicism and skepticism from prophets of caution and/or doom. Things feel very natural, comfortable, and usual, with the seemingly minor but existentially major difference that it all happens together. I don't have to drive her home at the end of the night or figure out how our late afternoons, evenings, and weekends can align. We just live on the same wavelength 24-7 now.

And we're doing pretty well with it.

Why? How? I don't have a magic solution, but I know what one major factor has been in helping us find a deeply comfortable and loving groove together: resisting cohabitation. Some people resist it until they're engaged; others until leases expire, and it's just logical to move in together. We resisted all the way until the wedding. We moved Katherine into our jointly leased apartment on June 1, subleased our future bedroom, stashed me at my grad school dorm and then a friend's apartment on an air mattress, and we made it to mid-July.

In the past, we had vacations and travel times when we shared hotel rooms; we had weekend nights when we stayed over at each other's place. But we never let it turn into living together - no spare toothbrush, no drawers of clothing, no overnight bags left behind (ok, I let Katherine keep a spare blanket in my drafty apartment). We were insistent that our lives remain distinct while we dated and moved through engagement toward marriage.

There was something about that distinction - something I may not have perspective on for years, or decades, or ever - that drove us to more deeply value the time we spent together. Something about having a crucial part of our unity withheld that challenged us to consider how marriage would be different and potentially better. We embraced a discernment context that challenged us to think and pray over what could be with fuller commitment, with a conclusive decision to love forever.

We got repeatedly frustrated with saying good bye at the end of the night. We got repeatedly frustrated with going days without seeing each other. We got repeatedly frustrated at having to go to bed alone most nights. There was something more that was accessible if we discerned and decided that we could commit to each other on that next level.

And even when we discerned and decided, there was something more to challenge and motivate us as we knew it was coming, and coming soon. There was an expiration date on the frustrations, and it wasn't because we relented and wanted an out. It was because we knew we really wanted the constancy of contact and support, the indefinite unity, and the uninterrupted intimacy that we could give each other in a marital commitment of love.

I'm not saying you can't have that in a serious committed relationship. I'm not saying you can't experience a semblance of that in a cohabitation situation. What I am saying is that you more deeply appreciate the time spent together, more deliberately undertake the work it takes to communicate and be on the same page, and more dynamically cultivate the longing and desire of knowing you can and will love the other person more when you commit to the relationship that holds nothing back.

I don't know how strong our "honeymoon effect" has been. I don't know what of our day-to-day life is doomed to fade or what of it will deteriorate into new frustrations. What I do know is that we have a deep-seated appreciation for spending every day and night together, for what it's like to have distinct and personal lives of our own, and what it's like when we work to share all of that together.

Even when the last vestiges of "honeymoon effect" wear away, we will retain our foundation of appreciation and value for the lives we each have and the ways we strive to sustain them separately and shared. I'm grateful that our faith challenges us to learn and live out ideals, and I love that we can now experience the fruits of challenging but worthwhile self-denial.

And here's to the great roommates I've had in my life, and to never having to look for a roommate again.

Transitions: New Job, Same Vocation

This past spring, I initiated a risky but necessary conversation with the leadership at Bishop Noll. After two years of building what started as dreams on a Google Doc into a sturdy reality, the growth I had instigated had exceeded my ability to sustain it responsibly. I could no longer be the sole animator of Campus Ministry, and I needed my school to respond to that. (For a fuller background on how this all unfolded, scroll to the bottom of this post or read this post's postscript/epilogue for more.)

I had instigated the overhaul of a system of retreats from one-day "reflection days" to pastorally and catechetically informed retreats, including student leadership and adult involvement on all retreats, overnights for all non-freshmen, and the implementation of Kairos, done in collaboration with my chaplain. I had created a Service & Ministry Team, which though its profile of concrete work never stacked up to more than the Christmas gift drive and one planned-from-scratch prayer service, became a strong family and attractive community for students. I expanded Mass ministries to involve more altar servers and readers, created a rotation of gift-bearers, instituted student ushers, and trained 30 new EM's to, along with our excellent choir and director, make Mass a heavily student-driven ministry. I created and led an overnight immersion, which took place seven times, around Chicago for students to do service-learning on the go. Etc. Etc.

You'll notice a lot of "I." Yes, I tend to be arrogant, and my choices of words too excessively reflect that. (I have that double layered arrogance where I'm arrogant underneath, and to cover it, I then become terrible at receiving gratitude and thus thicken my own arrogance.) Yes, I fail to more fully recognize the true origins of ministerial movement in grace and the Holy Spirit.

One of the other issues at hand was that I was on my own in my job.

While my chaplain was a great advocate and partner, he was part-time, only around to teach a bit in afternoons, say a monthly Mass, and make some room for occasional meetings. Besides that, I was on my own to recruit, plan, recruit, train, and recruit. I found some great partners in some very supportive teachers, but beyond a handful of deeply committed people and a few supporting cast members, I had built up a landscape, thanks to the hunger and response of students, that exceeded what I could do alone. And the administration's hands-off approach was simultaneously liberating and frustrating.

I initiated a dialogue about all this with my administrators, and they were both slow to respond and ultimately unable to enact any changes. Sensing this from the outset, I looked for other opportunities at Catholic schools and ultimately matched up with a good one. Though I could have buckled down to buy in for another year at Bishop Noll, I decided that my impending marriage coupled with the knowledge that I didn't want to work in and commute to Hammond forever made it a good time to transition.

I knew what I needed to tell my bosses, and I knew they would understand. I knew what I needed to tell my students, and I knew they would be frantic.

I wrote up a post to my work social media accounts and prepared to face the music in the cafeteria. I made it as far as the hallway leading to the lunchroom when I was swamped by a dozen of my more active students. Through these little conversation gaggles and wanderings about the lunchroom and hallways, I tried my darndest to humbly receive their guffaw, anger, and disappointment. Then, I tried to say that I was just taking a job closer to home with more reasonable commitments and that it wasn't about leaving them or letting Campus Ministry fall away.

I wrote them a letter, and asked everyone to spread it around, ultimately leaving copies taped to my office door as my farewell note. I wanted to give myself the same advice that I had already given the seniors before I knew I was leaving: leaving only hurts if you leave behind what you found. And I needed them to know: "I am not Campus Ministry. YOU are Campus Ministry."

And so I did commencement, a couple grad parties, a farewell dinner at BW's with some kids, and traded some emails to keep in touch with graduating seniors, and off I went. I left behind copies of my Google Drive and saved files and met with my successor, and I rode off into the sunset (well, the drive back was mostly north, so kind of but not literally).

And so I turned my attention to my new job at St. Benedict Preparatory School and Parish. Here's a few things about "The Block" that I could only repeatedly describe as unusual and intriguing:

• We are one of three high schools in the Archdiocese of Chicago that is connected to a parish.
• We are the ONLY school in the archdiocese that is a PreK-12 school.
• We have three principals for the three segments of our school and a fourth administrator who oversees all of them/it/us. Oh, and we all work for the Pastor, too.
• I am the Campus Minister for the Secondary School (6-12), though our all-school Masses and Campus Ministry include younger kids and Prayer Buddies.
• Confirmation takes place across the school and parish, and I will spearhead sacramental prep within the 8th grade theology course.
• Our parish Director of Youth Ministry will share an office with me and is contracted to work in both parish and school.
• etc. etc.!

I started work this week, and it was a bit sputtery at first - starting to furnish a newly created ministry office for us, starting to meet people (we have almost 200 people working at the school and parish!), connecting people's titles to how I will work with them, learning the trimester and daily schedules, and so on! I tried to keep myself on task as I lesson planned for 8th-grade theology and plugged my work into our school curriculum templates, but I had moments of struggle and low initiative.

I weathered the ups and downs with bathroom breaks, random encounters with new colleagues, and a couple good introductory meetings, and I ended up with a solid start on lesson plans. I realized that my struggles come back to something I learned while ministering in Ireland: I am not an office minister.

The days in Ireland that we spent mainly in the office, planning music, organizing copies, folders, and binders, or even just working independently were my least favorite days. I wanted to at least be making phone calls, if not going to make visits to schools or parishioners or even just to be in town. I preferred the times when I got out to St. Vincent de Paul Society meetings, choir rehearsal, or drinks at the pub with friends. And when it came to ministry, I wanted to be cantoring, handing out bulletins at the door, or working with our youth. I wanted my office work to be short, sweet, and expedient to set me up to have more time and to do better pastoral work out with people.

I worked through the silo-ed mentality at my old job to become a consummate self-starter in the mid-morning and mid-afternoon, and then to spend the beginning of the day, lunch periods, and the end of the day to see colleagues, roam the halls, and be a constant presence in the lunchroom. I pursued ubiquitousness with students, and to a lesser extent with colleagues too, and it paid off in my ministerial connections. It took time to feel out the routine, but it helped me efficient and driven in my organization and administration. Office-me enabled pastoral-me to do a better job!

So in the early going of a new job, gradually starting to meet colleagues and seeing a few students' faces, it has been hard to get started. But getting a strong sense of collaboration and team mentality, and awaiting my office buddy in ministry, I know the potential is strong to reach out and work together to do great ministry in this community.

As I take my first meetings and start to get a sense of how things are done and who does them, I am anxious over feeling out the right connections. However, I know the norm of collegiality will support me as I dig into everything. 

I love to take initiative and am blessed to be driven as I try to take ideas from creative dreams to concrete realities; at the same time, I have increasingly tried to be diligent in improving my ability to actively seek out colleagues, both socially and professionally/collaboratively, to do my work in tandem with others. My new workplace and ministry setting is beckoning me to commit even more strongly to that.

The other day, Katherine (my wife[!?]) was playing a song via a YouTube video, a man who had layered his own voice several times over itself to sing a complex song a capella. I was not a fan - partially because I'm a butthole, partially because I find what he did obnoxious. Why would one person feel the need to sing on their own? Not just solo, but manipulated to be accompanied by his own voice!? Does he not have friends he likes to sing with? Does he only like his own voice? Can he not blend with other voices? Is he really this vain? Maybe I was just jealous of his talent!

Either way, I found the metaphor powerful. I prefer the sound of a well-rounded, well-blended choir. Sopranos and tenors paired with altos and basses to fill out a full harmony. Maybe there's a conductor, but the voices complement and uphold one another better to my ear than any one person's layered voice ever could. I don't yet know what it will look like in this new school and community, but my gifts, my passions, and my ministerial attitude should work well in this atmosphere of collaboration.

Leaving an old job and the people I ministered with and to is hard, but I repeatedly have consoled myself in each transition that are always people to love, and be loved by, in a new community. There is a need for what I can bring and do at my new job, and there is much for me to learn from this unusual, unique community.

I hope and pray that God will keep me open, humble, and receptive. I believe my initiative and creativity will endure, and I hope I can negotiate the growing pains to connect what I can bring to the people of my new faith community.

__________

PS: Here is a timeline of how my considerations of switching jobs unfolded. It's lengthy and detailed, so dive into it at your own peril!

The Winding Road

discerning the next transition around many twists and turns, 2015

·      Mid-year 2014-15: Fr. Kevin, our chaplain and my colleague at Bishop Noll, and I discerned different ideas to incorporate into the Mission and Ministry / Catholic Identity proposal for the Capital Campaign Master Plan. In addition to dreaming of a Chapel and a Mission and Ministry Suite (chapel – office – meeting/conference room all adjoining), we wondered about staff. We tossed around the idea of a Director of Mission and Ministry, perhaps Kevin, and a Ministry Associate – an administration team member as well as a full-time minister. Kevin seemed interested in such a potential job, and we went from there.

·      Late Winter/Early Spring 2015: Kevin began discussions with his provincial and company on his future, and it became clear that while he would not continue at his parish, he also could not extend his presence at Noll. The community needed him dedicated to one of the institutions they sponsor and sustain. I jointly decided that I could not continue as the sole staff member, and that whether or not Kevin left, I would need some sort of assistance in retreat direction and a bit of help in the day-to-day. I didn’t want to continue with equal or less staff and equal or greater work, especially 19 nights away on overnight retreats and immersions.

·      March 2015: Kevin is confirmed in a new position as a Special Assistant to the President at Calumet College; in addition to leaving his parish ministry completely, Kevin would no longer be involved as a teacher or retreat director at Noll. I created an exhaustive job description of all the things I was doing to demonstrate the breadth and depth of what Campus Ministry was becoming. As I worked through this list, I also created a three-column system of how these things could be handled with adjusted staffing: most of the direction and administration would remain with me, pieces of it would be delegated to a teacher with a reduced load and contracted responsibilities to Campus Ministry, and it’d involve a significantly scaled-back role for Kevin as Chaplain, basically just Masses and Reconciliation availability.

·      March 20: I requested a meeting with Kevin, the principal, president, and dean/de facto assistant principal to submit my exhaustive job description and proposal for three-part team.

o   Pessimistic about getting a timely, effective, decisive meeting, I began to scour job boards around Chicago. Resurrection High School in Chicago was the one reasonably nearby school had a Campus Ministry posting, so I inquired with the president, sending a resume and a note explaining my uncertain future at BNI.

·      March 24: We eventually agreed to meet on the 26^th, and the principal informed us that it would last “a minimum of an hour, probably more.”

·      March 26: Our principal called in sick for the day, but our dean informed us that he would host and run the meeting. I shared my thoughts and talked through my presentations at the meeting as we had it. The meeting turned into a trouble-shooting and kind of tangential dream session. Nothing concrete was decided, and no timeline was given. I requested that some sort of information be given to me by mid-April after we returned from our Spring Break. I followed up with the principal with a summary email and attached the presentation handouts I composed, offering to meet after he returned to school.

·      March 27: The president of Res. replies to my email, inviting me to Resurrection for an interview with her.

·      March 30: I arrange for an interview for April 15 in the morning. I file for a personal day.

·      April 14: Having heard nothing back from anyone since the meeting, I checked in for an update with all four of them. The principal replied back, “Still working on it.”

·      April 15: I have my interview with the president at Resurrection. We talk very comfortably for about an hour. I feel pretty good about how I present myself, confident that she was interested and receptive to what I offered. I thanked her by email and obtained a copy of the job description. The whole process felt pretty good, and I walked away thinking that it was an attractive job at a stable, fairly strong school, even if not profoundly fired up yet.

·      April 28: The president at Res. informs me that I am one of the final three candidates and invites me back for a final interview. Meg tells me to come back on May 12 at 9:15am.

·      April 29-May 11: Continuing to look for positions and finding little, I continue sending out resumes and cover letters with introductory emails. Recipients include Mt. Carmel principal, St. Xavier University Director of Campus Ministry, Christ the King administrators, Trinity administrators, Marist administrators, Cristo Rey administrators, LaSalle dean, St. Ignatius Director of Formation and Ministry, Josephinum administrators, St. Benedict Campus Minister, DePaul College Prep president, Notre Dame administrators, Loyola University Chicago Director of Campus Ministry, and Regina Dominican administrators as well as reaching out to Chicago Campus Ministry colleagues from a networking events and even applying to a religious publication position. One interesting element was that the Campus Minister at St. Benedict turned out to be a Domer (’13)! Well I received various replies saying there were no open positions or that my resume/cover letter would be kept on file for openings, nothing materialized concretely from any of these.

·      May 12: I return to Resurrection for a final interview. Starting with the president, we discussed what she liked about my initial interview and overall application, and encouraged me to emphasis my leadership formation and immersion planning and execution. She also floated me a salary figure for an 11-month contract if I were to be selected; the amount was about 20% better than my current salary. After she guided me on a tour of the school, I proceeded to four more interviews, with faculty members who had daughters at the school, with teachers on the Catholic Identity committee, with a couple retired faculty, and with the principal and assistant principal. Each interview last about half an hour and involved similar questions and conversation. I felt confident and comfortable as I gave slightly different and honest answers in each round. I walked away confident in my responses and very impressed by the institutional consistency, coherence, and organization. I was more intrigued by the job but still felt like a bit of a wild card candidate as a male in a heavily female environment. I decided I wanted the job, but I remained ambivalent as to how likely it was that I’d get it.

·      May 13: The president at Res. informs me that I am one of the final two candidates and asks for references to follow up on the interviews. She says a decision is coming by the end of the month.

·      May 18-20: Following up on my earlier email to local Campus Ministers on May 18, the Campus Minister from Cristo Rey notified me on May 19 that she would be leaving Cristo Rey and vacating the Campus Ministry position there. I got very hopeful, excited that there may be potential to work in a Cristo Rey school. On May 20, trading text messages with her, I found out that the position would be filled by an internal candidate.

·      May 27: Out of the blue, as I wait for word from Resurrection, I received a missed call and a voicemail from a Chicago number while I was subbing at work. When we got to lunch, I listened to the voicemail in my room and read an accompanying email. It was from Erika Mickelburgh, the Head of Secondary School at St. Benedict in North Center of Chicago. She had gotten my resume from, the current Campus Minister who is a Domer. She wanted to interview me for a Campus Ministry and Theology position. I called back and explained that I expected to hear back about my status at Resurrection by Friday (May 29) and needed an expedited timeline. We agreed on a 4:15 interview for the next day.

·      May 28: I interviewed at St. Ben’s with Erika. It was a very comfortable, pleasant, genial conversation with minimal formality. We had a free-flowing discussion about the school, ministry, my background and experience, and tons of other stuff. She floated a salary figure to me based off a minimal scale, and when we agreed that I was only gunning for the Campus Ministry position, she explained that the compensation would be different as it connected to an 11-month contract. We needed to arrange an interview with the parish pastor, and we tentatively agreed to do that on Saturday to fit the expedited timeline.

·      May 29: Erika confirms I’ll interview with Fr. Jason, parish pastor, on Saturday afternoon at 2pm. Getting antsy about the news from Res, I follow-up with Sr. Donna to check on their progress. She responds around lunch time thanking me for my involvement but notifying me that they had chosen the other finalist for the position. Certainly disappointed but not especially surprised, I turned my thoughts back to Bishop Noll. Feeling optimistic about St. Ben’s but also wanting more specificity and finality with the open-ended, unupdated process at BNI, I followed up with my admins about my unanswered questions, requesting a meeting for Monday, June 1. I wanted firm answers on a written, signed agreement on my job description, salary, etc., and I wanted a decision on staffing for Campus Ministry.

·      May 30, 2pm: I head to St. Ben’s for my 2pm interview with Fr. Jason. Delayed trying to find my friend’s car, which I was borrowing, and driving through rain, I was a couple minutes late. Luckily, Fr. Jason didn’t notice, and his dog greeted me warmly. Fr. Jason sat me down at a table in his office, and with my resume and cover letter out, we began to talk about me. We had a “holy half hour,” as Fr. Jason called it before he went to celebrate a wedding. It was very comfortable and cordial, and my biggest takeaway was Fr. Jason’s thoughts on collaboration. He said everyone is charge there inherited the challenge of a PreK-12 school/parish combo, and rather than slog through it, they embraced it together. While he agreed with my sense of boundary-less, open communication and teamwork, he mentioned that people still have to recognize their job titles/descriptions and take ownership of their purview. Loved that this corrective was more needed than encouraging collaboration in the first place.

·      May 30, 2:45pm: While I was driving home from the interview, I talked to Katherine for a few minutes before she started her internship shift at 3pm. As I hung up with her, my phone alerted me to a voicemail from a number not in my contacts, even though I hadn’t received a call. I listened to a short message from Erika asking me to call her back. I returned her call, and she asked how the conversation with Fr. Jason had gone. I told her I enjoyed it and liked Fr. Jason, and that he had called our chat a “holy half hour.” She told me Jason agreed with my thoughts, and Erika offered me the job as Campus Minister right then. She told me she would work on final compensation numbers and that I could learn the benefits package immediately through the archdiocesan website. She said she would have more information when she returned to the office on Monday morning. I was very excited and called Katherine to share the news.

·      May 31: While driving some last bits of Katherine’s stuff from her old place to our apartment for our move, Erika called again. I put her on speakerphone, and she confirmed a strong compensation offer. I ask Erika if she can organize a job description for me to look over everything in one place, and she promises to send one the next morning. On top of the job description and the excellent vibes from Fr. Jason and Erika, it felt like a very attractive opportunity, unusual and intriguing as it was.

·      June 1, early morning: I arrive to work to a reply only from our president, giving some windows of time to meet but no replies from our principal or dean. After morning prayer, I saw the principal and dean talking in the lobby as they often do. I approached them to ask if they saw my email or the president’s reply. Craig said he hadn’t, so I opened my email to share the timeframes with him. The principal said we could meet if I wanted, but he could tell me right then and there that a written agreement was no problem, “just a piece of paper” – a disappointing thing to hear having worked a full year with no written agreement – but that staff-wise he didn’t have an answer, as they were still waiting to hear back from a potential hire for the Theology teacher position. Their candidate of choice was actually a friend who I had spoken with our principal about as one of his references. My friend hadn’t returned any of their emails or call, though I knew he would decline in favor of his chosen offer from another school. The principal said he had a 9am meeting with Guidance, and uncertain on how long it’d take, didn’t want to promise anything. I asked him to update us after it was over. I emailed the group and shared that the principal would check-in after his meeting. Erika also sends me the job description, and everything checks out nicely.

·      June 1, later morning: The principal comes to get me around 10am to ask if I’m free to meet right now to meet. I head down to the president’s office. I explain to them that I had not planned on leaving, but given the indecision and lack of communication on things, I had begun looking for other opportunities and had another offer in hand. In addition to concerns over a written agreement and staffing, I shared that the compensation would be significantly better. After some discussion, the principal confirmed that compensation at BNI would only raise the small annual amount and that staffing considerations were still uncertain. The president asked for some time to see if anything could be decided, and I said I could definitely give 24 hours. I said I’d check in at day’s end to see if any progress was made or any updates could be given. I ask Erika if she can hang for 24 hours, which she happily agrees to, while saying she’ll be praying in the meantime that I accept.

·      June 1, end of school day: I drop by the president’s office, and he says he’ll check on the principal. The principal is on the phone, so we chat for a bit before the president checks again and sees the principal is now behind a closed door. I thank the president for trying and tell him I’ll follow up by email and then maybe again in the morning.

·      June 1, late afternoon: I receive one of the more cordial, warm emails from my principal I’ve ever gotten, starting with an apology for being busy on the phone when we visited. He explains that no significant salary adjustment is coming and that any growth in Campus Ministry staff is at least a year away, if not further. He asks that I let him know when I’ve decided and thanks me for what I’ve done for BNI and its Catholic identity.

·      June 1, evening: After trading texts with Kevin and Katherine and brief chats on the phone with Katherine and my brother, Tim, I call Erika to accept the job at St. Ben’s. Erika is pumped and gets the wheels turning on paperwork and an initial meeting with the Theology Chairwoman and outgoing Campus Minister.

·      June 2, morning: I see the principal and dean in the lobby after Morning Prayer and inform them that I am leaving. Craig thanks me again and affirms my having to do what I have to do. I offer to help write a job description, recruit candidates to succeed me, and sit in on the interviews. He asks me to write out a departure note and sign it, which I do and deliver to his mailbox and Paul’s mailbox.

·      June 2, lunch: I post a brief tweet on social media to announce my departure to the students and an emotional firestorm of screams, tears, guffah, and fun chats ensues. And so the transition began.

Transitions

Before returning to the regular blogging festivities, a quick word on the72: thank you to everyone who wrote and read posts to the72. Though I'll return to blogging on my own for now, all the72 posts remain active in the archives, and there's always the chance that I will undertake a second wave of recruiting to restart the72. Until then, I hope you'll enjoy my return to semi-regular personal entries. I'm aiming to start with a series of reflections on some of the recent, current, and ongoing transitions in life right now...

* * * * *

At the final all-school Mass of the year at a high school where I used to work, Communion occurred a little differently. Rather than having each class return to their section - freshmen back to freshmen seats, sophomores back to sophomore seats, etc. - we had each class come forward for Communion and then return to the seats of the class they were ascending to in the coming year. Meanwhile, the seniors had to vacate their seats and come forward to stand as a group for the remainder of Mass, yielding their place in the school to the growing underclassmen and confronting their impending graduation and commissioning onward to the next step.

I have never really shyed away from transition, which I take as welcome gift, since life is full of transition. I didn't cry when I moved out to college, when I was dropped at the airport to go study abroad, when I graduated from Notre Dame, etc. (though I did cry each time I left my now-wife after a brief break during our long distance dating).

In a lot of ways, life is largely about leaving. And it's not about getting good at leaving; it's about having the right perspective and reflection as you go. When it came to graduating from Notre Dame, to moving on from four years in the Folk Choir, two summers of Notre Dame Vision, and four years in Zahm, I really took to heart the challenge of bringing Notre Dame to the world.

If what I experienced, learned, and was formed by really was to take root an grow in me, I needed to carry it with me to new places where it could encounter the different things in other worlds to create a dialogue that helped me and my new community grow. And my life took me to places where I had every opportunity to do so.

In Ireland, it meant confronting sacrament-hopping Catholics whose culture kept them on as more than lapsed Catholics but less than all-in Catholics; it meant engaging with the norm of a 45-minute Mass and a culture that was socialable and slow-paced except when it came to leaving Mass. It meant bringing catechesis to children in their schools while they were between First Communion and Confirmation and trying to minister to those who were fully initiated. It meant ratcheting up the catechesis in Confirmation prep. And it meant engaging the parents while we knew we had them, hoping to hook them more profoundly into their faith again.

Then in California, it was confronting kids who generally bought in to our school but resisted more deeply buying into their faith, whether as wishy-washy Christians or full-on skeptics, all while trying to help the kids who had retained their faith all along but now needed to find why it was worth keeping and owning. It meant engaging in social and ethical discussions that made great space for doubt and criticism and demanded that students understand Church teaching, even if they don't agree with it. It meant growing Mass ministries to train new Eucharistic Ministers and altar servers, incorporate more readers, and get more students involved in Mass planning. And it meant ratcheting up retreats to be less superficial fun and games and more small-group faith-sharing and personal witness talks.

Then at Bishop Noll, it was confronting a new frontier - a wide open landscape with little to harvest because few had been given any chance to plant on it before me. It was confronting almost-zero retreat literacy, engaging with decent predisposition to faith, and empowering and utilizing untapped adults. It meant creating a retreat curriculum that built something from month one of freshmen year to the last go-round before graduation and college. It meant weaving ministry life into student life, such that joining Campus Ministry for liturgy planning, service, or retreat leadership was cool and sought after. It meant creating sturdier, more intentional overnight retreats and designing an overnight immersion that engaged the spirit and made you want to come back for more.

Each time, a move to a new home, to new roommates, to a new neighborhood, to new explorations and day-to-day life. Each time, to new halls and rooms, new worship spaces, new co-workers, and new clergy.

Each time, finding diligent co-workers in the vineyard, with similar yet different visions for pastoral ministry. Each time, a faith community at work and at home that, even when imperfect and flawed, gave thanks and praise to the Lord and sustained me with the Sacraments.

Each time, a new challenge for work and vocation, for social and spiritual life, and for personal and romantic life. Each time, more challenges and opportunities presented and more chances to engage with tensions to navigate a pastoral response.

I don't want to describe such repeated transitions as easy, but I think a rhythm of faith and consistent discernment has reinforced the sturdiness that has underpinned this whole thing for me. Even when I'm not praying as often as I'd like, even when the day-to-day grates on me more caustically, I've always kept the Sunday heartbeat to life, just as my parents and family taught me. Even when I'm not as present as I'd hope during Mass, even when I'm not critically engaged with the readings and prayers, even when I don't retain the point of the homily, I am somehow regrounded, relaxed, poised, and heartened by being there - by hearing it all, by participating personally and communally, and by receiving Word and Sacrament consistently.

That's what I received and learned being raised in faith by a loving family. That's what I learned at Catholic school, especially in high school Campus Ministry. That's what I owned for myself with God in theology classes in high school and college. That's what I experienced profoundly and personally through Notre Dame Vision, the Folk Choir, and four years of undergraduate life. That's what I carried with me to Ireland, California, and back to Chicago.

I composed a talk to give to my seniors at Bishop Noll on their senior retreat, and I was never more heartened by the response of these students in faith than when one our most promising students used my same line in her retrospective reflection on four years of volleyball at our school. I walked them through the major transitions in my life, from high school to college, with leaving Folk Choir and Vision, to Ireland to California to Chicago. And as I explained how I got into each community, I also explained what I faced and what I learned, just in time to have to move on from that community.

And as I concluded each piece of the story, I repeated the same refrain, which I'll use now, just before I begin my new job as Campus Minister at St. Benedict Parish and School in Chicago:

Leaving only hurts if you leave behind what you found.

the72: Cristina McKeever - Presence

I spend most of my time in a room that consists of mirrors, an accompanist, and a number of amazingly talented individuals. This time consists of sweat, energy, growth, disappointment, trial, error, admiration, love, etc. So much of this precious time can be so easily consumed by a lack of focus, which for a dancer is detrimental in more ways than one. I have learned that it is presence, total and complete presence, that can fulfill my spirit in the most seemingly challenging or daunting of classes. The absolute attention that one can bring forth, physically, emotionally, and mentally in these dancing experiences is paramount to our necessary growth.

I’ve recently been reflecting upon the relationship that I have with my faith as well as the relationship that I hold with dancing. The connection between the two is something that I have always thought about, and the more that I do, the more similarities I find between the two entities. That word, presence, is the driving force for developing myself in both aspects, something that I really did not take note of until I began my collegiate journey. Faith is undoubtedly one of the most challenging concepts to hold on to, yet someway and somehow, I find myself holding on tight. How can something so vague lead me to believe in something so comforting? I believe that is the beauty of it all, we won’t ever have answers, and we have to learn to be ok with that.

The same goes with dance—there is a stigma that views careers in the arts as vague or unknown in the popular notion of success, and because of that they are dubbed as unfulfilling. Sure, I could believe that, but I choose not to—just as I choose to believe in the presence of God. How could I turn my back on something that has helped shape me into who I am, just because it is thought to be unprofitable? Sometimes it seems that it could be easier to not believe in something/someone larger than ourselves, but what growth will we experience without the presence of challenges in our lives? I could choose to go through the motions of my classes, without any focus or work ethic, but THAT would be unfulfilling. I could choose to be aloof to my faith, but I would not grow.

I do not think that it is coincidence that God instilled in me a love for dancing; I believe that He knew that the love I have for it will both challenge and support my faith in Him, allowing me to learn, in both aspects, what it feels like to fail in order to create the desire to succeed. There have been times in which I have failed to depend on my faith and my trust in God in times of adversity by instead trying to handle my own burdens without the hope that faith in God could give to me. It is a heavy feeling to try to handle what brings us sadness, stress, or anxiety without relying on anything or anyone to help ease our troubles. We forget that God does not mind easing what saddens us; He is there in our most vulnerable and challenging times, and he rejoices with us when we arise from them.

I know that dancing is how I am called to offer myself to others. When I decided that I wanted to pursue dance beyond just being an extracurricular activity, it became something that I needed in order to fully develop myself as a human being because it draws out from within me what I do not innately exude. It is one of the most vulnerable forms of artistic expression; it calls for trust in others and trust in the self; it is a constant test of determination, and it is always a form of communication and connection to those around us.

I have a job teaching dance at a local studio near my university. I spend three hours a week teaching and facilitating new experiences regarding rhythm, movement, expression, etc. to kids ages 7-16. Recently, I had to offer a reflection to my professor of my Dance Education and Outreach course, regarding how what we have learned thus far has affected our opinions, our thoughts, and our lives as dancers and teachers. I decided that to best express my gratitude for the lessons that this class presents, I would interview some of my younger students about how they feel about dancing and what it offers them. The answers included:

“Dancing makes me feel alive.” 

“Dancing makes me feel like I can do something in the world, and share that with others.” 

“Dancing makes me feel happy because I get to do what I love with my greatest friends.”

I watched these clips of my students over and over again as I edited the video that I turned in to my professor, and each time I listened to and watched my students deliver such eloquent and honest responses, my heart became so full. This is what makes dance such a powerful thing and something that I willingly give my heart to.

It is an art form that tests our patience, our abilities, and our spirits, but it is an art form that breathes life into those who are present within it. Just as our faith breathes life into us and shapes who we are meant to be, dance has the capability to guide us on how to become expressive, caring, courageous, and honest individuals. Thus, allowing the depths of ourselves (including the parts that are not always apparent upon a first impression) to shine through more clearly and powerfully, revealing exactly who God intended us to be.

I want to offer to others what both dance and my faith in God have given to me. I want to be able to open up channels of expression and honesty, ignite the spark in others that lit my own heart on fire, first for my faith, and secondly, for my love for dancing. My journey continues as a young adult, an aspiring artist, and a developing teacher by discovering how God is present in my passion, my growth, my disappointments, my failures and accomplishments. If I can maintain presence in my craft and my faith, I believe that I can bring to others the gifts that those things have brought to me.

Cristina McKeever graduated from Xavier College Prep in Palm Desert, CA, in 2013, where she was involved in Campus Ministry, Student Council, and served as the Captain of the Xavier Dance Team. From Indio, CA, she is currently a sophomore at Chapman University (CA), where she is a member of the University Honors Program and pursuing a Dance Major and Italian Studies minor. Cristina can be reached at mckee121@mail.chapman.edu.

This Doofus Named Peter

Portable speakers, audio wires running along the concrete steps of our church, and the slightly confused congregants gathering outside the church can only mean one thing: Palm Sunday. I'm sure that when the famous pilgrim Egeria logged her travels to Jerusalem in the 4th century and helped entrench the tradition of the liturgical procession on Palm Sunday, she was thinking of unseasonably crisp, cool March evenings in Chicago when you can almost see your breath.

We got our palms. We heard the procession Gospel. We shivered our timbers. And as our celebrant's voice crackled through our surprisingly stable and clear outdoor speakers, he advised us, before entering the Church (and everyone's thinking, "Will my seat be saved? Should I have left my jacket there?"), to put ourselves in the shoes of one of the many characters in the Gospel of the Passion.

So, sitting standing through today's choral reading of the Passion of Christ, I found myself gravitating toward our old friend Peter. I was drawn in by Peter's "vehement" denial that he would deny Christ, telling Jesus, "Even though I should have to die with you, I will not deny you" (Mark 14:31). Jesus could have absolutely gone back and forth several times with Peter in a "but seriously" kind of way, but instead, Jesus kind of just says "I'm gonna leave this here."

And then Peter follows along, very closely, as the rest unfolds - the Agony in the Garden, the arrest, the questioning before the Sanhedrin. Peter puts himself right in the middle of it all, and as the allegations begin to fly at Jesus, Peter isn't hiding from anyone; instead, he's right outside among the curious crowd, almost rubbing his nose in all of it. And then come his three denials, the cockcrows, and Peter's weeping at his behavior.

Jesus tells Peter to his face that he's gonna mess this up, and though Peter swears he won't, he does. This is the same guy who Jesus invited to the Transfiguration and the Agony, pledged to build His Church upon, and told him whatever he loosed and bound one earth would be so in Heaven. How the heck does this fit together.

Well, here's what I was thinking as my knees flexed and straightened while our lectors took us artfully (and ever so gradually) toward the cross. In the Agony, Jesus asks the Father for the hour to pass, but Jesus defers to the Father's will. The Father green lights this whole thing. He wills it, and Jesus undertakes it.

So, this - the trial, the Passion, crucifixion, three days, and resurrection - has to the master plan, the best way for God's love to unfold decisively and completely. Jesus hops on board with complete fidelity because God, knowing its excellence and profundity, has willed that Jesus' Way to the Cross will be the method of salvation. Jesus had to trust that it will fall into place providentially.

He had to trust that the 72 He sent before Him would be effective in preaching and healing. He had to trust that John's baptisms would bring people to God and prepare the way for Him. And He had to trust that this doofus named Peter would have some semblance of an idea of how to guide the Church.

Jesus couldn't accept His sentencing, take His cross, and die on the wood without trusting that God had ordained a future for the Church He had started in the name of His Father. So much of this hinged on Peter, who Jesus looked in the eye on told of His immense power and responsibility to act with heavenly authority while later telling him straight up that he'd deny Him several times.

I couldn't help but feel that Peter is a solid stand-in for me, for us, for the Church. Jesus knew Peter's road would be bumpy and messy, but He also knew that the Father willed the Passion, the Resurrection, and a period of time when Christ will have ascended and left the Holy Spirit to animate the world with His Presence until He comes again - you know, the Church. So, He trusted the Father and trusted the Father's trusting Peter, massive screw-up that Peter was.

I think Christ's trust is a testament to His love for us. Jesus will look us in the eye and tell us the truth with great love. Whether that truth is that He has give us great gifts and has great things in store for us or that it's that our propensity toward human frailty and shortcoming is pointing us to deny Him, Jesus is always with us.

We may have moments of trust in God's will. We may have moments when we deny Him. But as we come to the foot of the cross, Jesus commends us to one another and to His mother, seeking to establish communion among ourselves and with Christ. The Church is born at the foot of the cross, from the wounded side of Christ, the torn veil, and the communal grief of those who love Christ and rise to new life in Him.

Like Peter, let us weep when we deny Christ, and let us be attentive to Christ's Passion, so that our faith may grow and grow to the point where we can vehemently tell Jesus that we will not deny Him.

the72: Hannah Boiko - The Missing Piece

When I hear the word ministry, I automatically pair its meaning to the word serve. But something else also comes to mind when I hear the word. The word ministry helps me to remember my purpose in life. It helps me to remember that there is a reason, a God-given one at that, to keep waking up each morning, to keep pushing myself to do my best, and to always be motivated to be the best version of myself each and every single day. But after writing this I pause and I really reflect.

“How am I living out my ministry?” is a heavy question, and I believe I am happily in the process of discovering it through my education.

Currently, I’m studying Communication Disorders to eventually become a Speech Language Pathologist. Throughout high school I was always so intrigued by the practice of medicine and my far off dream of one day becoming a doctor. When reality eventually caught up with me, it was finally time to decide on a college and a major. I really had to sit down and think about this.

One night during my senior year of high school found my mom and I scrolling through major after major on multiple websites, searching for something that would fit my personality. I have an absolute passion for helping people and for taking care of others. I believe that helping people is my ministry in life. Coming from a Jesuit high school and being engulfed in campus ministry, I discovered after leading many retreats that I had a passion for leadership, and of course, theology and faith.

My junior year of high school I had the pleasure of tutoring young children at a place called Duroville, CA, a poverty stricken environment that wasn’t far from my hometown. Many families lived here in a trailer park where they were faced with financial and personal hardships every single day. From this experience in my life I realized that God is calling me to help others. I believe that I was put on earth to be a person for others, wherever and whenever.

I’d like to say that I learned this from my mom. While growing up, before I left my house for a night or a long period of time my mom would always say, “have fun, and don’t forget if you need me to come get you no matter what time it is, I will come get you.” That saying my Mom always tells me has truly showed me unconditional love. My mother always puts others before herself, always making sure her kids are okay before she is.

But unfortunately, I have been broken in my life. Especially when I went through my parents’ divorce. Some days I never thought that I could be whole again, but time went on and I started finding things in life that filled my heart with joy. Helping others mended me back together. I could share my story with others and show them that no one is alone in life.

So back to the struggle of whom I wanted to be... I was coming to a crossroads moment in my life, unsure of what I wanted to do and who I wanted to be. But am I really supposed to know that answer at 18 years old? I guess that’s where my faith comes in.

My mom looks up at me that night we were looking through majors, and suggests the profession of Speech Language Pathology. My mom is in fact a Speech Language Pathologist, so I automatically shot the idea down. There’s no way I want to follow in my mom’s footsteps! I want to be my own person... right?

Time went on and the major started to grow on me. I really do love what my mom does for a living. She has the opportunity to work with babies in an ICU all the way up to elderly people in a nursing home, helping them with speech disorders of all sorts. She can work in a hospital, school, nursing home, or private clinic. My mom changes lives every single day. It may not seem like a big deal, but if a little 5 year old can’t pronounce his “R’s” in the word “car” which comes out as “caw” but finally one day says “car,” then that is something to be proud of.

Changing lives is my ministry. I want to touch people in this world, and I want to help them along their way.

Looking back at this experience now, I can truly tell you that God was trying to tell me something. Each year leading up to me picking a major in college and picking a career/vocation, I got to experience something that I find so rewarding and so touching which is helping people and leading others. At my high school, in addition to tutoring kids, I also got to lead many retreats. This is something that I will always treasure. I believe that leading retreats has made me more of a servant of God. Leading my peers has allowed me to become a more vulnerable and open person. I’ve also had the opportunity of going to work with my mom to see what I’ll be doing in the future. I’ve helped people in ways I never thought I could whether that is tutoring children, giving advice to a friend, serving food to the homeless, being a spiritual leader, or just being in someone’s presence when they needed a shoulder to cry on or a good laugh (I’m pretty funny).

As my freshmen year of college is coming to a rapid close (5 more weeks, YAY!) I reflect on what I’ve been studying so far. I took a big leap of faith when committing to California Baptist University and agreeing to be a communication disorders major. I must say now: it was the absolute best decision I had, and I know I didn’t make it alone! I had incredible support from my friends, family, and most importantly, God. I was comforted by His love when I thought my future was impossible to obtain. I have started to take major classes and I know that becoming a Speech Language Pathologist in my future will help me to live my ministry out every single day for the rest of my life.

Even though life takes its toll on me at times and I feel like giving up, I stop and remember how extremely blessed I am to be here, breathing and living.

All we have to do is take it one day at a time.

Hannah Boiko graduated from Xavier College Prep in Palm Desert, CA, in 2014, where she came to know Christ, fell in love with Campus Ministry, and was a member of the Xavier Dance Team. Hannah is currently a freshman at California Baptist University in Riverside, CA, where she is studying Communication Disorders with the intention of becoming a Speech Language Pathologist. Hannah has a passion for helping others and a love for spontaneous beach trips. Hannah can be reached at hannahboiko@aol.com.

the72: Tom Kostielney - A Voice-Changing Helmet & A Sword on Fire

A few years ago, my instant answer to “what is your ministry?” would have quickly been “religion teacher.” Molding (warping?) the minds of the youth. However, since I have reached the age of infinite wisdom (25) and have life completely figured out, my thoughts on this have changed.

Obviously, teaching is a huge part of my ministry, but I feel God’s calling (for me, essentially, God’s calling and ministry are synonymous) in all aspects of my life. Essentially, God’s ministry for me is to be, as the great philosopher Barney Stinson put it, awesome.

Too often I have thought of God’s calling for me as something big to be done, and usually down the road. As a high school student, my calling was to be a teacher. Now that I have achieved that position, I constantly wonder if I am being called to also coach, or to pursue more advanced degrees, etc. I struggle to remind myself that I am being called to do something awesome each and every day.

In high school, yes, maybe my calling was to be a teacher down the road, but I was missing out on what I was being called to day-in and day-out. Teaching was my burning bush, but was I missing a burning twig or burning blade of grass every day?

Where are these twigs and blades of grass today? As a teacher, I am blessed with the opportunity to interact with hundreds of wonderful souls each and every day. If I think too far ahead, I miss God’s daily ministry for me in the lives of all these people. It sounds like a cliché, but I firmly feel like my ministry is to make each moment better because I was there. To infuse awesome and God into each breath.

My students are always stressed. Many teachers would say the same. Some of it is definitely caused by their drama-filled selves (“Bae, why did you like her Instagram picture?! This is the worst day ever!), though so much of it is totally legit and caused by their environment (SAT-pressure, mass amounts of homework, their Netflix not working for 6 hours). My ministry is to do my best to make the brief time I have with them a time that they will grow in faith, and do so through learning and just enjoying life.

I’m not smart enough to think of anything groundbreaking, so I end up living out this ministry in small ways like:

• Calling a student up to the front of the room and taking 2-5 minutes at the beginning of classes to get to know a different students’ interests (favorite video game, ice cream flavor, favorite Crayola Crayon name, etc.) to get them to get to know each other.
• Having “Will Smith Music Appreciation” at the end of the day
• Notes are essential at times, yet they are not the most exciting time, so giving notes while wearing an Optimus Prime voice-changing helmet to make it more interesting
• Opening their eyes to all of the amazing forms of prayer (music videos, comic books, etc.) that few ever seem to encounter until much later in life

Having this thought when I walk into my classroom everyday: “God, please speak through me today. Let my students know that I love them, that You love them, and that they are all the most amazing people in the world.”

I’m still a newbie teacher of only three years, so I am never confident that I am teaching them in the best way possible. What I am confident in, however, is that I can take all of these little moments that may be mundane and make them full of joy and love. And the beauty of this is I know so many teachers who have the same ministry, and do it far better than I could ever hope to do.

Now, this is not to argue the idea of “just make class fun and exciting, kids will love it!” If you try that as a teacher (as I did my first few weeks) you will come home, cry into your Curious George stuffed animal, and eat an entire box of Oreos (that can’t be just a “me” thing right?).

What this is trying to argue is that my day is filled with hundreds of small interactions with people, mainly students, and it is my ministry to make each moment special in some way. That may be pointing out the connections between sin and (maybe) the worst movie ever made, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. That may be taking the time to pray for a sick parent. It may be making syllabus day (remember that day as a student? That stuff was fun) as entertaining as possible.

In our end of the year evaluations, one student wrote this in response to the question, “What was your favorite part of class?”:

“Your substitute teacher policy. The first day of class that showed me that class would be taken seriously, but we would also be able to find the joy and humor in our daily lives.”

Said substitute teacher policy:

When I am gone, you will be on your BEST behavior for the sub. BEST. When the sub is standing in front of the room, remove him/her from what you see. Instead, imagine that the sub has been replaced by Mother Teresa, who has resurrected from the dead. And she has a sword. That is on fire. And she will decide, right then and there, based on that class alone, whether or not you will get into heaven or hell. 

Be on your BEST behavior. 

Love you guys!

Tom Kostielney somehow tricked the University of Notre Dame into giving him a BA in Theology and History in 2012, and managed the same feat again in the form of a Masters of Education from Loyola Chicago. His has received the annual “Most Likely to be President” Award 9 years running, as voted on by Tom and his dog, Halsey. He won the “Perfect Attendance” award as a 5th grade student. A native of South Bend, IN, he now lives with his wonderful wife in... South Bend, IN where he is a Theology teacher at Saint Joseph High School. Tom can be contacted at tkostiel@alumni.nd.edu. You could also contact him at his home at any time, just make sure you bring him some cookies. Preferably peanut butter. But he will eat any of them.