The Things We Carry

I am currently looking for my next job. I'm moving back to Chicago to start graduate school part-time. I'm leaving my job and my current school community, and I need to find a new community in which I can do my ministry.

Leaving has never been really hard for me. I guess I have solid control on my emotions - sometimes good, sometimes bad. I love a good cry, but it takes something quite intense or a factor of surprise to bring out my tears. Leaving my high school, leaving London, leaving each summer of Notre Dame Vision, leaving my beloved Folk Choir, leaving Notre Dame, leaving Ireland...

I've had to do a lot of leaving. Not to be trite, but Semisonic was on to something when they said, "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." I've always been aware of the finiteness of those experiences - of the four-year progression of school, of the development and subsequent sending forth, or fraction rite, of a community, of loving but leaving a certain place. The joy and love of each piece to that puzzle endures in pictures and videos. It lasts even more strongly in memories. Yet the greatest vestiges of those places, people, and communities live on in my life of faith.

Each chapter of my formation sowed seeds for the future while harvesting the seeds from my past. That reality doesn't eliminate emotion, but it places it in right proportion. I could leave each place, each community with an enormous grin, fueled by deep-seeded joy because I knew I would carry those people and experiences in my heart. I didn't have to cling to things lost, or grasp after fleeting reality. The specific times and places may pass, but the impact they had in developing me lasts.

I felt this most acutely when I got the chance to direct my first retreat. In October, I directed a two-night, 36-hourish Junior Retreat. It'd be up to me to keep us on track, catalyze the creation of the proper atmosphere, and kind of "emcee" the thing. As I moved through the pieces of the retreat, re-gathering the group for talks, finding ways to transition between things, and wanting to let my true self to show through, I realized, in a beautiful way, that I am a conglomerate of those people who I had seen in leadership along my way: the unabashed catechesis of Tim O, the utilization of viral videos for spiritual renewal of Lenny, the reflective use of guitar of Steve, the comfortable awkwardness of John, the attention to detail of Jess, the friendly relatability of Betsy, the meditative guidance of Jimmy...

As a minister, as a teacher, as a person, I am the product of those people who have impacted me, from my parents and brothers to those who have ministered to me. The benevolent love and grace of God follows me everywhere. It didn't restrict itself to St. Viator or Notre Dame or Clonard or Xavier.

The temptation we have at Notre Dame, or in any community which nourishes us in faith, is to cling to it. We want to have more and more of the good things. We want to stay at Notre Dame. The sustenance is so great; why leave it behind? We wrestle with the allure of ACE, of Notre Dame Law, of AR posts, of internships and staff positions, of finding a job in South Bend, of infinite dorm masses and basilica and grotto trips. Sometimes staying on is a welcome stepping stone toward post-grad dreams or a fitting gap year before diving headlong into career aspirations; other times, it's the fear of the unknown, of the beyond, or a reach for the metaphorical snooze button.

Whether you clung to Notre Dame or cut the cord (or, like me, did a little of both), the important thing is that the Church we found in a most colorful way at Our Lady's University is a truly global church. The very word which describes our faith means universal. The reach of the Body of Christ is not limited by time or space. The faithfulness and zeal that we find at Notre Dame exists elsewhere in the world.

It may be less vibrantly visible; it may take some looking; it may not be as readily available. But you betcha it's out there.

Each time you leave a place, a job, a community, you risk not being able to get it as good as you had it. But we are an Easter people. Jesus defeated death. His victory permeates everything. It makes us the people of faith, hope, and love, which necessitates optimism, even if realistic optimism. You can doubt the prospects of gainful employment, the ability to pull in a certain salary, the likelihood of finding new friends, but you cannot the doubt the strength of our Church, the community of Christ that is found everywhere and anywhere.

I got to Ireland after leaving Notre Dame and found a priest with firy opinions of what our Church needs to do better, a family of fervent prayer and faith in a culture readily forsaking it, and a community of humble Vincent de Paul volunteers bringing help to those in need. I came to California and found a high school preaching a counter-cultural message of care for the whole person, of spiritual formation alongside college preparations, of community and fellowship beyond the classroom. Now I return to Chicago, to family, to a school that desires to form people theologically and ministerially, and to a yet unknown job...

Maybe most important of all, I have found potential employers who spoke the language. I found a retreat director in Wisconsin who valued community and frank, open conversation. I found a principal and a campus minister in SoCal who actively encourage tensions, constant discernment, and the agitation of shallow comforts and complacency. I found a principal in Illinois who seeks to give his kids intellectual, spiritual, and professional formation, all in one school. I found another principal in Indiana who wants a campus minister with a real vision that will further invigorate the faith family at her school.

Notre Dame and Holy Cross certainly provide a unique flavor and intensity of faith formation. But we are silly and narrow-sighted to focus too much on that, just like Jesuit alumni are missing out when they fixate of Ignatian spirituality. The best way to develop any stance is to expose it to new, different environments. Our Catholic faith deepens and broadens when we take it from where we're at to where we're going, from our home parish, from our alma mater, from the place we live or work now, to the place we may end up going.

We don't need to all be missionaries, jumping from one thing to another in search of the next big thing. We don't all need to suddenly forsake our routines or comfort zones or the status quo. However, we do need to readily embrace the unknown, the step ahead, the new thing. We need to consider going to that Taize Prayer service that happens every week down the road. We need to consider working in a Jesuit school, even if we've never experienced it before. We need to try Adoration, even if it's intimidating. We need to go to daily Mass once in a while. We need to give our local parish a chance, and consider how we can help, even if that church in the next town over seems more appealing.

For my current job, our students go on retreat at a mountain ranch. The high altitude, the fogs and mists, the clear, clean air, the starry skies, the woodsy wilderness - it all creates a special world. Their temptation is to want to stay forever, to sustain this community they've created by never leaving that place. I remind them that the goodness they've shared and received from one another isn't confined to that place. It's something quite sustainable and realistic. It doesn't require the establishment of a mountainous utopia. It requires the courage and trust to carry the changes you experience with you as you go on.

The universality of the Church, the infinite reach of Christ, gathers us together in this way. Don't be afraid of leaving what you know. You always carry with you those things that have shaped your heart. The power of formation comes when we share our formation with others and receive theirs in turn.