Come and See

by Dan Masterton

Per the usual shuffling of personnel at a Catholic school, I moved offices this year. It's always a mixed blessing -- a mild pain to pack up and transport everything as well as a welcome invitation to declutter, get rid of extraneous things, and get stuff in order. I enjoy that latter part, and it gave me a chance to be intentional about my workspace and all the stuff that occupies it. Come take a look.

Pull Up a Chair

I came to enjoy my non-traditional digs at my first two postings -- at my first job, I had no classroom or desk, a true nomad wandering the school visibly with my bright orange backpack always in tote; at my second job, I turned an empty classroom into a ministry gathering space, cobbling together spare furniture into a couches corner, three small-group work areas, and a table and drawers that served the purpose of a desk. I liked the openness and the way students didn't have to engage me like I was a teacher or part of another class or classroom.

When I started at my current job, my Director of Youth Ministry and I fit two desks, a few shelves, two couches, and stackable chairs into a cozy but air-conditioned office that did the trick for us pretty well. Now, we are into an area with a bigger open space and a small shoebox of an office that I took. My first move? Getting the giant desk that was almost as wide as the office out of there and keeping only the small round table with a few chairs for visitors. Knights in armor are most welcome. Some have implied to me that it's small, dinky, and sad; I think it's just right. It's a modest place to work where I can also receive visitors and talk shop in an unimposing way.

We are knights of the round table; we dance whene'er able...

The size of the table has relocated office supplies to the radiator top --
not over the vents of course, as I don't need melted rubberbands.

If These Walls Could Talk

When I was in high school, I became a self-described retreat junkie. I went on all of the retreats. I led all of the retreats. I loved the retreats. As I finished up high school, I compiled all of the pictures, name tags, and door signs into a frame (and hid my affirmation cards on the back of it). I appreciated my frame so much that I repeated this practice with my summers as a mentor-in-faith at Notre Dame Vision. As my wife and I moved, the stuff from my old personal bedroom and bachelor pad apartment didn't all have a place in a new family home, so these things have found a new and proper place in my office. It's a way to delightfully celebrate those formative times that made me who I am and put me in this very office while also showing my students the fun that awaits them -- and jogging my memory on fun stories to boot.

Left to right: my high school retreats, Vision 2010, Vision 2011.

I like to fill the walls a bit more than your average Joe, and frankly I wish it were fuller in here. Nonetheless, I tried to put up some representative items of what I wear on my sleeve when not ginghams and striped-shirts. So here lies the famous Cubs sign from the stairwells to the concourse at Wrigley, rally towels from Bears and Blackhawks playoffs games, a Notre Dame pennant, and some St. Ben's swag -- some varsity letters and the navy bandana of my Scholastica House.

To the side, I posted some keepsakes from the amazing travels I have been blessed to do. My wise older brother advised me before I went abroad that pilgrimage trumps tourism -- a tourist demands; a pilgrim receives. It's been amazing to experience the world's culture and people, and the wealth of the worldwide Church, by receiving their gifts, so I have my wood-carving of Africa from a market in Uganda, a Camino sign from my hikes through Spain, and a Celtic cross to celebrate my time living in Ireland.

Between those two sets, I decided to hang my diplomas. I never want to be one of those people who prominently displays imposingly framed diplomas just over my shoulder to underscore my importance and gravitas to the peon sitting across the desk from me. However, I am proud of these schools and the work I did there. So after five years of not displaying my diplomas anywhere at work, I decided to honor that work and the support of family, friends, and formators by hanging these two frames on the side wall.

University of Notre Dame, BA, Honors Theology cum laude, '11

Catholic Theological Union, MA, Theology-Biblical Ministry, '16

Those students also were the ones

on the 1st Kairos I attended as an adult

and the 1st Kairos that I directed.

While some bookshelves house books, I used a small one here to celebrate the bits and pieces that invoke my faith and family, right in my sightline from desk to door. Beside my Notre Dame Vision candles of my models of faith, Blessed Oscar Romero and Cardinal Newman, I have my favorite and only award I've received as a professional. At the Jesuit high school where I first worked, our students are recognized for excelling in the "Jesuit grad at grad" pillars, so the seniors likewise recognize faculty, too; they chose me for religious, and I still smile when I think back to that honor.

Next to that, I keep our school's Kairos crosses, the signature sacramental of the retreat that is so integral to Catholic high school campus ministry. I lost my first Kairos cross from high school before I graduated. I got a new one before I left, and then I lost that one at college, too. After later losing my third cross, I decided that maybe it was time to simply live a life that reflected Kairos and worry less about the necklace. Nonetheless, these are the crosses we give to our students when they go on Kairos. Those crosses sit beside a few signature items of St. Benedict, a few of which were hand-crafted my our students in the Hearts and Hands Club last year. Standing over all of that is an 8-ball Jesus figurine that a fellow Kairos leader gave me for my 18th birthday and a small stand-up cross that my godmother gave me after my mom passed away.

Below all that and above my one shelf of books are some of my favorite pictures: my wife, Katherine, our families, and me from our wedding; our baby daughter, Lucy, at four months, with the biggest smile she can muster; my groomsmen and I in a classic jumping picture; my immediate family on one of our last family vacations all together; and Katherine and I during our first dance on our wedding day. I could, can, do stare at that shelf a lot.

I've Become a Shell(f) of Myself

No office of mine -- or any pastoral minister? -- is complete without a cornucopia of miscellanea. This is the job of the beat up, tall bookshelf and the floor in the back corner of the room. Here lies an amazing array, even after getting pared down, of retreat and liturgy goods, best enumerated in bullets:

You should see it around Kairos time.

• Empty binders
• Empty folders
• Dry erase tablets with eraser wipes
• Bags of pens and pencils
• Prayer rocks
• Craft sticks
• Glue sticks
• Painter's tape
• Gem stones
• Catch Phrase with batteries
• A championship belt
• A bag of discarded participation medals
• Disposable plates, cups, and spoons
• Water bottles
• Taper candles
• Candles
• Lighters
• Spare journals
• Envelopes
• Manilla envelopes
• Brown paper lunch bags
• A three-hole puncher
• A table cloth
• Tissue boxes
• Cleaning spray
• Paper towels
• A large storage bin
• Milk crates
• An empty box
• Giant notepad
• Clipboard
• Burning pot
• Decorative bowl
• Glass bowl
• Jar of markers

That's all I can see, but I could probably dig around and find more.

Just above all that, a few of the shelves house book-like things. Here lies my collection of theoloministerial materials. This is a resource library of my own stuff, including my high school theology binders from when I was a student, my teaching binders, the manuals from retreats I've led and/or directed, and the affirmations from past students and peers. Outside of my laptop hard drive and Google Drive troves, this is the primary resting place of my externalized ministry brain. Great wisdom, creativity, and anality can be found here in plenty.

Ministry Couched in Couches

Brown Couch c. 2009 (Tim Masterton collection)
Plaid Couch c. 1998 (Masterton family collection)

The first thing Katherine and I treated ourselves to in our first home was a new couch. Eschewing the hand-me-down couches from family members, we went and got a good couch that we could use for a long while. What became of those two old, beloved piece of furniture it replaced? They were adopted by Campus Ministry.

I feel strongly that the ministry space needs to feel different than classrooms, and even from other administrative offices. I think the presence of religious items is important, but ideally, those are all around the school. I want to be distinguished by a level of comfort and homely hospitality that classrooms and formal offices cannot provide because they serve a slightly different purpose.

To that end, comfortable furniture that isn't ideal for studying or doing homework helps set ministry apart. Here, you don't cram vocabulary or master scientific concepts; you converse with peers and mentors to formulate small groups, to review a retreat schedule collaboratively, to pray together, or just catch up as friends do.

And in keeping with the theme of wall decor that means something, I've always been a believer in pictures on the wall. Taking after my own campus ministers who led me through high school, I commemorate every retreat and its leadership team with a framed picture on the wall. More often than not, especially for students who are not leaders themselves, it's the pictures that draw passers-by into the room and trigger memories and smiles in a unique way. That wall becomes my favorite, because it's the living photo album that reflects the family found in a Catholic school -- the built community, formed leaders, and presence of Christ that animates this ministry.

Below each picture, I note the retreat, venue, date, class,
and name each student leader and their adult partner.