Vocation in Our Time

One of my best friends is my non-biological little sister, who I met when she was a senior and I taught at a high school in California last year. Now she's a freshman in college, but we keep in close touch. One of the great privileges of being her friend is that she shares her intellectual curiosities with others, seeking open dialogue and debate as she learns.

Recently, she sent me a short story that her philosophy professor had her class read and react to. She asked if I'd read it and tell her what I thought. The story presented a descriptive, complicated scenario in which the reader has to decide how to respond to the apparent evil in this fictional small town. I did a scan/skim of the story and tried to extract the basic points to spell out my response, which I wrote out in a short paragraph.

She replied, saying my comments were interesting, and the included her submission to the professor. Her thoughts echoed some of mine but went leaps and bounds beyond, showing a carefulness of thought, an inner deliberation. She had read the same passage I read but engaged it with greater depth. She took her instinctive first thoughts and dug deeper to see both sides and measure out a nuanced, astute response.

Aside from being impressed with the wisdom and sharpness of a college freshman, I kind of longed for a former time when it was my job to do that. College afforded us such a wonderful opportunity to be unapologetically curious and to engage with that inquisitiveness on a daily basis for course credit. Some days were better than others in terms of work ethic and motivation, but I'm deeply grateful for the time I had as an undergrad to delve into such stimulating questions.

Because of my studies at Notre Dame, because of the friends I made and the circles I ran in, I became interested in so many things - theology and spirituality, political science, especially presidential politics and leadership, history, and music, to name a few. Some people get intensely interested in a few things, but I am the type to be really interested in a bunch of things. Ultimately, I had to settle on a career, and I'm a few years into trying my hand at Catholic campus ministry and education.

I think the challenge for our generation, or at least for people who cast a wider net, is that we do have to pick something. At the end of the day, I can't be a political scientist, a historian, a musician, and a campus minister - at least not all at once. For my career, for my 9-5, if I want stability and the chance to really grow in specific ways and gifts, I needed to pick something and go for it.

For people with more intense and narrow interests, is it easier? If you're a numbers guy and you go for broke with actuarial science or engineering, does that satisfy a bigger slice of your curiosity pie? I'm not sure.

I do know that alongside a full-time job and the hobbies that come with it (for me, campus ministry and theological/spiritual reading), there isn't a ton of mental energy or space-time for those secondary curiosities unless I'm really anal and surgical with my time. They still happen, and they still stimulate critical thought in exciting ways. However, I read my little sister's words and delight in a different phase of life when one could really fixate on an abstract philosophical question and spend time walking those thoughts back to applied reality. A doctoral degree isn't in the cards for me, so I'll just wistfully delight in nostalgia.

I think for our generation - for whom it's rarer to see people specialize into very specific careers and sustain those careers for decades on end - it will be harder. Our wide-reaching curiosities and wonderments sprung forth from more open-ended formation and education, which is a great gift.

Now as we grow, and as we try to embrace the chance to use and grow our gifts making a difference for people and their needs, we should rejoice in the medium we've found to try living our vocations. And while we do it, and maybe struggle with the ongoing investigations, I think of the advice I got from mentors last year as I started to teach, and the verb in this sentence can be adjusted according to one's vocation: "Don't just teach what you know; teach who you are."

Catholic Schools Week: The Saints

Below are some brief bios of some saints and the roles they played in furthering Catholic education. I wrote them to be shared over the PA, one per period, on Monday of Catholic Schools Week to begin our celebration of our Catholic identity.

Big thanks go to Notre Dame Vision and the awesome bios in their journal, Catholic Online, and the various websites of these religious communities. All of them were used in part toward the biosI compiled below.

MAJOR FIGURES IN CATHOLIC EDUCATION

Jean Baptiste de la Salle

At the beginning of each class period today, we celebrate Catholic Schools Week by learning about a major figure in the history of Catholic education and praying for them to watch over Bishop Noll and Catholic Schools everywhere. To begin, let us first remember St. Jean Baptiste de la Salle, patron of all teachers.

While serving as a priest at a cathedral in his native France, Jean met someone who was establishing new schools for poor boys, and it changed his life. Jean became the leader of this project. He built a house to live in together with the teachers, the beginnings of what is today called the Christian Brothers. They tried innovative new teaching methods and insisted on educating children regardless of their ability to pay tuition.

Their new system of schools grouped students by ability, integrated religious teaching into other subjects, and focused on preparing teachers. Today, the Christian Brothers operate 78 schools across the US, the most of any religious order. In fact, the Christian Brothers once ran Bishop Noll. Three different brothers led the school for 7 years, from 1962 until 1969.

St. Jean Baptiste de la Salle, pray for us.

St. Ursula & St. Angela Merici

St. Ursula was a 4th century martyr, who we don’t know much about. Her and her companions were honored with a basilica in Cologne, and her legend grew over the years. In the 16th century, in Italy, St. Angela Merici was dissatisfied with the options for women - get married or enter a monastery. She formed a new community of women to live the Gospel in the world and help all women realize their dignity. St. Angela chose St. Ursula to be the patroness of her community.

Over time, the Ursuline Sisters spread throughout Europe and then came to North America, too. They now serve in Missouri, Louisiana, Texas, Illinois, and Minnesota. They operate several all-girls Catholic schools and continue to work in St. Angela’s mission of affirming women’s dignity.

Sts. Ursula and Angela, pray for us.

St. John Newmann

John Neumann was born in what is now the Czech Republic. When he was 25, John came to New York where he did missionary work. He joined the Redemptorists, a Catholic religious order, and became its first member to profess vows in the United States, continuing his missionary work in Maryland, Virginia and Ohio.

John was next appointed Bishop of Philadelphia. There, he organized the parish school system into a diocese-wide system. The new structure increased the number of students going to the schools almost twentyfold in a short time. St. John drew many teaching communities of sisters as well as the Christian Brothers into the diocesan system to shepherd the huge number of students. John Neumann was the first American bishop to be beatified and was then canonized in 1977. Because of his work in Philadelphia, Catholic dioceses gained a model to organize their resources in support of Catholic education. May he hear the prayers of the Church as our dioceses struggle to keep schools open so we can help people learn.

St. John Newmann, pray for us.

St. Elizabeth Ann Seton

St. Elizabeth was born into a wealthy New York family in Revolutionary times. She married and had five children with her husband before he fell ill with tuberculosis. They traveled to Italy so he could rest and get better, but he passed away. Elizabeth and her children then moved in with an Italian family who taught them about Catholicism. When they returned to America, they went to Baltimore and joined the Catholic Church, which angered their family friends, who refused to help Elizabeth and her children.

In Baltimore, she met a priest who invited her to open a Catholic school for girls. She accepted and worked alongside other women to get the school started. This group of women began the Sisters of St. Joseph. The bishop approved their community, and Elizabeth became known as Mother Seton, leading the sisters in their education work. Her order grew, and many communities sprung up to further support Catholic education. Mother Seton’s schools formed the foundation for American parish schools, and she was canonized as the first American-born saint.

St. Elizabeth, Mother Seton, pray for us.

Mother Frances Xavier Cabrini

Frances began her career as a school teacher in Italy. One day, a priest invited her to begin a religious order, and in 1880, she formed the Missionaries of the Sacred Heart. After gaining the pope’s approval, she asked to begin a mission in China, but the pope sent her to the US instead. He wanted her to serve the many Italian immigrants there.

Frances and her Missionaries went to New York City, home to 50,000 Italian-Americans who struggled to make money and find a welcome, even in the Church. The Missionaries ran schools, hospitals, and orphanages in New York City, and their community began to spread throughout the US and beyond. Mother Cabrini set the example in this country of Catholic schools reaching out to immigrants and marginalized people to give them a home where they can pray and learn.

Mother Cabrini, pray for us.

Mother Theodore Guerin

Mother Guerin is originally from France, where she was born and became a nun in the Sisters of Providence. Her order wanted to start a new community in the United States and sent her to Indiana to be their superior. When she arrived, she noticed there were very few schools in the area and felt that young girls especially needed an educational opportunity. She helped found St. Mary’s-of-the-Woods in Terre Haute, the first Catholic women’s college in the US, at a time when colleges excluded women.

Mother Guerin went on to found schools in Jasper, Vincennes, Montgomery, Madison, Fort Wayne, and Evansville, and even opened pharmacies and hospitals for the poor in Indiana as well. Indiana was still a young territory with great needs, and Mother Guerin laid the foundations for this state to receive Catholic education. Her work helped give new opportunities to countless women and grew the Church in Indiana.

Mother Guerin, pray for us.

St. Ignatius

St. Ignatius was a soldier in the Spanish military. When his leg was shattered by a cannonball during a battle, he took to reading in his hospital bed about Jesus and the saints. After further contemplation on a mountain retreat, Ignatius began studies in Paris to become a priest. He befriended St. Francis Xavier, Blessed Peter Faber, and a few others, who together became the first Jesuits, the priests of the Society of Jesus. They devoted themselves to the pope’s missions, which included missionary work in India and China and educating the Church by starting schools.

500 years later, the Jesuits have become world-famous for their commitment to Catholic education. Their priests have spread their mission of education globally, founding schools,  colleges, and universities in over 30 countries. The Jesuits work in the model of their founder St. Ignatius, who encouraged his friends to find God in all things, through daily prayer that examines how your day went and searches for the high and low points. St. Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises are the foundation of much of Christian spirituality, and their structure is the basis for the Kairos retreat that is done at Bishop Noll and other schools across the country.

St. Ignatius, pray for us.

See for Yourself

The cold snap that is now beginning to lift brought a lot of things with it.

Everyone's weather apps showed unbelievably low temperatures and crazy numbers in the forecast (above is what we're looking at right now, on the other end of the VORTEX!). People discovered that boiling water evaporates instantly in such cold air. And news stories and online articles warned us that exposed skin could almost instantly become frostbitten in some places, that car tires and engines could fail in the cold, and that people were stranded on roadsides after spinning out or getting buried in the ice and snow.

Monday, I sat in my apartment, with school called off where I work, alongside my girlfriend, whose graduate school classes were cancelled. And despite all of this, we wondered, "how bad is it really outside?" We looked out the windows and saw more people than we thought we'd see, walking or driving despite the chill.

Even with all the warnings regarding the weather, we still wanted to go outside, just for a little bit, to see what it was really like. And isn't that so human?

The waiter puts your plate on the table and tells you it's hot, but you still touch it. Your friend tells you their food tastes weird, and you want to try it. Your buddy tells you about a nasty knee injury from a football game, and you jump on Google to track down the video and watch.

Even when we're cautioned about potentially dangerous or painful results and consequences, we take a swing anyway. For whatever reason, as humans, we're wired to want the experience for ourselves. We want to take in, with as many of our senses as possible, the first-hand encounter with a hot plate, weird food, or seeing nasty injuries. We don't laugh as hard at the stories that we're told because so many of them are about "you had to be there moments."

The positive side of this human impulse is our curiosity, our sense of adventure. We're willing to climb a hill and risk injury and exhaustion to catch the view and see what's on the other side. We do experiments to discover new medicines even if the chemistry may be explosive. And hey, someone had to be the first to try that juice that comes out of the pink things hanging of off cows, otherwise we wouldn't have milk.

The danger comes when we don't appreciate the risks involved with our inquisitiveness, or otherwise confront and dismiss those potential or likely consequences. This moves some to try drugs or heavy drinking, despite the warnings of hangovers, addiction, and serious medical, mental, and other problems. Some get sexually promiscuous or otherwise overly exploratory in their sexual escapades, despite the dangers of STI's as well as the way it causes us to objectify people and hurt ourselves and others mentally and emotionally.

The key, with all things, is moderation. Gather your proper gear and climb the hill that's a little steeper and taller than you think you can handle, so you push yourself but minimize the risk of injury. Have a drink or two, but don't get close to blacking out, or drink until you're puking your guts out; designate a driver and keep yourself under control where you don't need to force others to babysit you. Pursue and date people that you're interested in, seek a stable relationship, and express yourself sexually with another person in a way appropriate to your state of life.

We have to find ways to satisfy our curiosity without putting ourselves in a position where we'll likely or certainly hurt ourselves or others. If you want to venture out into the extreme cold, you have to bundle up as best you can and limit your time outside. Go get the experience for yourself, and let your senses soak it in so you can own it for yourself. And if you ignore the warnings and dangers, you're bound to get frostbitten.

A Little Push

It's been a while. And as I sorted through the usual half-blog-posts that pop up in my mind as ideas needing to fleshed out in writing, I found myself unable to make the time for my hobbies, something I'd been habitually good at.

I hoped that this Christmas Break would give me the relaxation and rest I craved. As the classic Catholic School employee, despite my concerted effort to oppose the tendency, I have indeed overcommitted myself, in this instance, by becoming the head coach for the freshmen basketball team, alongside my full slate as the Campus Minister. I love coaching, and I love basketball. However, attempting to navigate the "choose your adventure" of being the first full-time campus minister at this school alongside sorting through the chores of head-coaching have left me in the position I wish most to avoid - doing a decent job at a lot of things instead of doing a great job at a few things. My idealism will surely be cut by the realities of adult life, especially as I add my own family to the mix.

Anywho, the relaxation of break is often helped, hurt, or a little of both by time with family. I do not stress out. I even moreso refuse to give into the holiday stress that people seem to seek out sometimes. This year involved juggling my own family and my girlfriend's family, which was challenging but beautiful, as we found ways (even if imperfect) to share our families with each other.

And now after Christmas, the resumption of basketball practice and a mini holiday tournament for the boys tomorrow ratchet the activity back up. And as the first day of the second semester draws closer, the thoughts of what awaits at work and the things I want to tackle in Campus Ministry begin to invade my mind. So when the time is there between family and coaching and the ever-racing mind to seize the rest, I try to do so.

Today, post-morning-basketball-practice that is, this involved napping, eating a snack, heading to Evanston for a Northwestern basketball game and dinner with my dad, and some relaxed time with my girlfriend as the cherry on top of a nice, easy day, before coming home to go to bed - er, write a blog.

On way home from Katherine's, an easy 3-block stroll through Lincoln Park, I was pretty empty-headed. Practice was solid; the NU game was lame; conversation with dad was enjoyable but didn't stir me to deep analysis of any kind. It was a placid saunter over the crunchy snow without anything to stir me to deep contemplation or obsessive thinking.

Then, just a few doors down from my apartment building, I happened upon a couple of guys struggling to get their Jeep out of its snowed-in parking spot so they could head home. A nearby woman was trying to find them a shovel, and another dude and his girlfriend had stopped to help. I joined the fray, and after a couple minutes of strategizing, three of us guys took to the tailgate to push while the fourth dude took to the gas as we all tried to rock the car out of snowy rut. One woman continued to look for a shovel while the other guarded her purse.

After a few attempts to urge the car out of its place, our strength and the gas pedal hadn't done the trick. The woman returned with a shovel, and the car's owner dug around the wheels, while declining her offer of her gloves to warm his bare hands. One final attempt, amid the encouragement amongst of us man-mules, and we helped force the car through the snow piles and out into the street.

I'd love to dramatize the story into something bigger and more colorful than that description, but it was simply a handful of people helping a car escape a snowed-in parking space in Chicago. We each went on our separate ways with a brief smile and words of gratitude. There was no grand gestures, no pretension, no false heroism. No one called attention to themselves for their contributions or the time they gave up. No one complained of the cold. It was simply a few people helping a few other people that needed help.

As someone who is fairly effective as a leader and fairly effective as a team-player/follower, I (surprisingly?) struggle in that area in between. If I am not leading or clearly being led, I can get easily frustrated as a contributor. My tendency is to yield, surrender, or even become indifferent, sitting back to a dangerous extent that borders on or even becomes detriment, or worse, apathy.

This was a moment I needed. True love is that which openly and warmly gives and receives. I was in the right place at the right time to give some help these people, and the opportunity to work with other people gave something to me. I had the chance to simply step in alongside others and lend a hand.

As the beginning of another semester of campus ministry looms, with all its challenges, known and yet unknown, here was a simple and clear reminder of the importance of helping others. And to do so authentically as part of a team, humbly embracing and inviting the help of others, working together.

I read several articles from America magazine on way to Evanston on the purple line, and I felt the wheels turning in my head, urging me to return to my Blogger platform to type again. Then before I could sort through it all and discern the truth speaking to my heart, a simple moment of loving teamwork showed me what I needed to learn tonight.

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.