Open Wide the Doors for Christ!

Recently in our Moral Theology class we have  been studying the problem of evil and how we can go about explaining how/why a good God could allow evil to exist in His creation.  In my Trinity Seminar we have been considering (guess what) the mystery of the Trinity.  In both these cases we have been able to make some headway into answering this mystery: for instance, when speaking about the problem of evil, logically, we can see how in our free-will we often choose the bad, we choose to hurt others, ourselves, or otherwise put something else as "god" in our lives, and thus, necessarily find ourselves incomplete.  In a similar way, we can come to some understanding of the Trinity: moving from the revealed truth of Jesus as the Son of the Father, who together promise to send the Spirit.  From here we are able to delve deeper into this mystery - God is one in substance and nature (this is what God is: perfect, eternal, infinite, etc.  The three persons are consubstantial in that they all have this same divine nature in its completeness), and, at the same time, God is three persons (this is, sort of, who God is: the three differentiated, not by differences in essence, but in relations of origin.  In other words, the persons are only differentiated by the relationships of love that they have with one another - the Father in giving Himself completely to the Son (perfect Father), the Son in totally loving and obeying the Father (perfect Son), and the Holy Spirit in being passively spirated by both of them (perfect Spirit)).  Obviously, both of these answers are unsatisfactory: "why doesn't God just eliminate evil?",  "but how are there 3 "parts" (so it seems) in one, perfect, unity?"

What I have realized this past week is that, though these mysteries remain because of our own weakness and limitations, it is into these very mysteries that God wants to enter and illuminate.  The trigger for this realization was a picture I saw on Facebook this past week.  The Sacristan at a church a couple hours north of my home-town found a host on the floor, and, as he should have, carefully preserved the host and notified the deacon, who placed it in a container of water.  This way, if the host was consecrated, it would dissolve, and could thereby be disposed of properly (and if it wasn't consecrated, no harm done).  However, when the Deacon came back a couple days later, assuming the host would have disintegrated completely, he found instead a mass of blood in the midst of the water. Eucharistic miracles aren't just medieval happenings, the result of over-active (or naive) imaginations of people "back then"!  

So, what do all these points have in common?  All these "things" - the presence of evil, God, and the Eucharist - are mysteries, they are beyond our limited understanding, but, in all of them, God wants to enter that mystery and drive away all that lacks His presence.  

Into evil God wishes to enter and transform with His love.  In the suffering of someone who has lost a loved one, God desires to fill their heart with the peace of His promise of eternal life to those who love Him.  To the person who has fallen into sin, God wishes to forgive that sin and "resuscitate" that soul, reinvigorating them with His joy and love once more.  To the hill of Calvary, where evil seemed to have its "greatest" victory, where the greatest physical pain, the greatest injustice, and the greatest abandonment came together: God is present, He became man just to enter that moment and prove once and for all the abundance, and omnipotence, of His love.  

What about the unknowns that we have about God?  He becomes man to bring us to that Truth, to Himself.  Why?  Because we are made in the image of God, we are meant  to become more like Him.  Our categories, our rational ways of explaining the Trinity, our analogies, aren't so much us getting closer to the truth regarding God - every analogy, falls hopefully short of the true grandure and awesomeness of God - but these thoughts aren't pointless.  Our drawing closer to God leads to our own fulfillment, our intellectual working towards the Trinity does get us to a closer idea of what we are supposed to be.  God shows Himself, as Father, Son, and Spirit, as perfect love in mutual, completely generous, relationships.  We are supposed to be that way too!  Augustine in his De Trinitate ("On the Trinity") looks inside of ourselves to catch of the glimpse of the Trinity, as it is in Itself.  He moves from (but retains) the "economic" idea of the Trinity that we find evident in the Scriptures (of the Father as creator, the Son as redeemer, and the Spirit as sanctifier), to a more metaphysical [read: essential] understanding of God.  He shows that just as our mind has memory, intellect, and will, and goes in that order: we remember something, think about it, and then decide to act in some way regarding it, so the Trinity has Father, Son, and Spirit.  Both sets of 3 work in an order (the Father eternally begets the Son, and from both of them the Holy Spirit proceeds), but the first "part" doesn't exist without the other; as soon as we remember something we think about it and act on it, as "soon" (eternally) as the Father exists, so does the Son and the Spirit.  So, this exercise does reveal something about God because He has revealed that we are images of Him, but our mental capacity is still limited, so we'll never understand the Trinity completely.  (We are always stuck, so to speak, looking at God from one "direction", either we see Him as one, perfect unity, or three, in the three persons, we can't quite wrap our head around the mystery completely).  End of story?  No!  Where God sees a lack of goodness (in this case, knowledge of Him), He wants to fill that lack with Himself, with His truth, with His love.  We are imperfect images of God, so, Christ comes as our savior and redeemer, to save and redeem us.  To reform us back into more perfect images of Him (and the entire Trinity).  Jesus not only directly reveals to us the truths of God, He also tells us to "love one another as I have loved you" (John 13:34).  This isn't just a moral commandment, this is a map to our true end, God Himself.  In Jesus' loving death for us, He redeems us, and in His calling us to the same sacrificial-love, He pulls us closer to God.  Recap: In our weakness itself, in our lack of imaging God, God wants to forgive us and make us again in His image.  In our lack of knowledge, Jesus comes to reveal more about God!

Finally, in the third situation, that of the Eucharistic miracle, God aids our all-too-often weak faith with a miracle making His presence obvious.  This is the case with all Our Lord's miracles: He not only heals the sick, and forgives the sinner (mystery 1: destroying evil), but He also does them to make obvious to us His divinity (mystery 2: revealing God) and showing His true, complete, incredible, presence in His sacraments, priests, and Church (mystery 3: Eucharist).  God is so good!  In the Eucharist miracle at Orvietto (which is a couple-hour train ride from Rome, and I will see for the second time at Corpus Christi), the priest was suffering from doubts about Our Lord's presence in the Eucharist.  Sometimes we have the same doubts!  "Lord, are you really there?  I can't see you."  Yes He is!  In that miracle, as in the one that took place a couple days ago in Illinois, the host - for all appearances a piece of bread - began to bleed!  He is truly there!

Jesus looks at us poor doubting sinners with the same eyes of love that gazed on His apostles "O ye of little faith".  He wants to fill every place of evil, sin, doubt, or fear with Himself!  Trust Him, love Him, let Him!  Let our words be those of the centurion: "Lord, I believe, help my unbelief!"  Lord, we believe, but we fall, we doubt, we don't live up to your call - help us, transform us, have mercy on us! (And He does!)

A couple of weeks ago our formation conference for the week was on Lectio Divina and the priest who was giving the talk at one point spoke about how sometimes even the distractions we find ourselves occupied with when we're trying to pray can be a trigger for prayer, or can be brought into prayer - and thus we not only return our mind/heart to God, but also bring to Him those things which are bugging/concerning us.  Usually I haven't been particularly successful in turning my distractions over to God in this way - it's hard to go from thinking about the pancakes that are on the menu and somehow turn that into prayer, for instance... - but today was different.  Today I spent like 6 hours studying for my Christology final which is tomorrow, and my brain was pretty well past the bursting point when I got into the chapel for my Holy Hour.  So, of course, my mind was filled with the medley of different facts that I had been trying to memorize/organize all day, and I wasn't getting very far in the whole considering God, Who was present before me, and conversion of heart and growing in love and everything...

 

Previously though, the teacher of the Christology recap class (in English!) had mentioned a couple of times that it was important to take the material we were learning to prayer.  We wouldn't learn about Christ unless we were speaking with Him!  Now, I had sat in the chapel a couple of times and reviewed notes - you know, highlighting about half of the stuff on all 40 pages, and writing comments in the margins, and then dozing off (not very productive in other words) - but today I actually took all the stuff to prayer, and boom, it was amazing.  I was meditating on the sorrowful mysteries while saying the rosary and all of them absolutely came alive with the information and insights that I had been working on today, it was great!  (And that is what this post is about!):

 

For the Agony in the Garden, my mind was brought to the focus this passage puts on the humanity of Christ - on His intense suffering, on His emotions, on the crushing weight of our sins, on the sweating of blood - but it is in precisely this moment, when the soldiers come to arrest Him, that Christ responds to their demand with "I AM"  Wham!  They hit the ground!  Why?  Because Jesus just spoke the name of God - the Tetragrammaton (we learned about that in Hebrew class!) - and not only that (which was blasphemous in itself) but used it to refer to Himself.  This moment in which we see Christ's intense suffering and weakness is also one that reveals His divinity.  This is where the Church will later be able to come to deeper and deeper knowledge about this very mystery - the hypostatic union, the humanity and divinity of Christ.  The council of Nicea (rejecting Arianism) will be able to say that Christ was fully human and fully divine - not just almost divine (homoiousia, similar in being with the Father), but actually fully divine (homoousia, one in being with the Father).  Why?  Because if Christ isn't fully human and fully divine He can't redeem us (more on that later).  But that's not all!  The council of Constantinople III was also able to affirm that Christ had both a human and divine will.  Why?  Because the hypostatic union - gradually discerned at previous councils - meant that the hypostases (Person) of the Logos, originally solely having a divine nature (as it is with the Father and Spirit) assumed - in time - a human physis (nature) as well, which meant that He had both human body and soul, with all our powers/abilities (otherwise He couldn't redeem body and soul), all the while retaining the Divine will as well.  This is obvious from this text in the double movement of Christ begging the Father to "let this cup pass from me" (His human will), but then immediately follows with "but not my will but thine be done" (His human and divine will are always in harmony with each other).  

 

For the Scourging at the Pillar I was considering the incredible humiliation and pain Our Lord underwent for our sake.  He accepts the greatest sufferings to be united to our own suffering which we caused by our own sins!  He accepts the greatest humiliations to further unite us to the shame caused by our selfishness and disobedience!  But "by His stripes we are healed"; He chooses to suffer in our place, He takes upon Himself not only our nature but also the punishment we deserve. 

 

For the crowning of thorns I was considering the titles that Christ had been given throughout His ministry but only accepts them in this moment.  Here (during His passion), unlike many other places in the Gospel, Jesus allows Himself to be called Christ, King, and Son of God.  Why?  Because this is the moment when they finally receive their full meaning.  Messiah or Christ, as well as King, are titles that the people expected to give to a victorious political savior - somebody who will kick the Romans out and bring on God's kingdom.  Of course, here is Christ, under Roman power, beaten, spit upon, silent.  Here, Christ gives the true image of the messiah and king - one who will be the suffering servant foretold by Isaiah, one who will bring God's true kingdom, which is not of this world.  Here, we see that the Son of God spoken of by Daniel and Ezekiel isn't just an angel, or prince, or something, but the God-man, who doesn't come down from the cross, but stays there for us.  Only in the light of the passion do these titles receive their true meaning, only here, bloody, condemned to die, does Our Lord accept them, knowing that there is no risk that they will be misinterpreted to think He is a political, temporal messiah.

 

The carrying of the cross: Our Lord falls, uniting Himself to our own falls.  Our Lord lifts the heavy cross, uniting Himself to us, who too must carry crosses.  Here the king of the universe, the Lord of lords, Him through whom all was created, needs help to carry His own cross up to Golgotha.  One can see the church - Christ's mystical body - battered and assaulted as all its members (us) struggle on towards Christ - falling sometimes under sin, battered by the powers and hate of the world, humiliated by the weakness of us who make it up... Of course, this is an imperfect analogy, but it is one that deeply shows us the union we have - through the church - not only of Christ's victory over death (a point that Paul emphasizes) but also with His cross. 

 

 

And then we reach the crucifixion.  Here everything comes together.  The scandal of Christianity - the paradox of God-made-man, who suffers for us, which every heretic has tried to explain away, but we must accept in faith (Paul again!) - is made obvious with the placard nailed above Our Lord: "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews"  Jesus can't be the messiah, can't be our king, can't be our Lord, can't be God - not only is He nailed to the cross ("crushed by our offences"), but He came from Nazareth.  Yet in His weakness, in His seeming-abandonment by everyone and even God ("My God, My God, why have you abandoned me?").  In this lowest, most crushing, most overwhelming, most painful moment He is called King of the Jews.  Who is the King of the Jews?  God Himself.  He cries out "I thirst" - isn't this another moment of weakness?  No.  He begs that we respond to Him in trust and faith.  He cannot force us, He is nailed to the cross, yet those nails don't hold Him, His infinite love does.  He beseeches us to come to Him, to come to His cross, to embrace Him, bloodied and broken for us.  Aquinas explains how Christ can save us in several ways.  Through merit - He is the head of the church, through which the merits and glory He gains by His obedience to the Father is passed to us (opposite the death and concupiscence passed onto us by the first Adam).  Through satisfaction - He makes up for our sinfulness through His super-abundant love, His charity makes up for our lack of charity, even our actions which nailed Him to the cross.  Through sacrifice - He is the perfect priest, offering the perfect victim (Himself) to God the Father, for us (we can't offer a satisfactory victim to make up for the injustice we have made through our sins, but Jesus can).  Through redemption - He pays the price to God for our freedom, that instead of being slaves to sin and the devil (a punishment we chose for ourselves through sinning), we might be bound to God through love.  But the main reason, and the most profound one, is that Jesus Himself is the agent (efficient cause) of our salvation.  Again, this isn't only in His divinity (though it is principally God who saves us), but also in His humanity (instrumentally - it's only a man that can fully redeem men).  He goes to the full extent of human suffering to save us from eternal suffering separated from Him! 

Jesus cries out "it is finished".  What is finished?  The soteriological [salvific] mystery that He began the night before - when He made Himself our slave, washing the apostles feet and showed Himself God, by instituting the new covenant in His blood with the gift of Himself in the Eucharist (again, we see Jesus showing Himself divine in the moment when He is most humble).  But that mystery  had already began years before in His first kenosis [self-emptying] that took place in His incarnation, when He took upon Himself our nature.  It's incredible, the Logos, the Son from all eternity, of the same substance as the Father and Spirit, became man.  His divinity didn't consume or overwhelm the flesh that He took, not being fully man (Docetism), He actually assumed a human nature (as Cyril affirms)!  As Jesus dies and the world goes dark, it seems as if death and sin have triumphed.  Yet, Christ is the "light [that] shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it". 

 

My rosary was finishing: "Oh my Jesus ... save us from the fires of hell, lead all souls to heaven".  As Christ died - as the second person of the Trinity died (the natures cannot be split) - He went as far as He could go out of love for us, to take upon Himself the penalty of sin.  And yet, in this moment - the worst moment of the entire passion - Christ's divinity again is made manifest.  For He triumphantly rises, the tomb is found empty, the Apostles come to faith, and then go to take that faith out to the world!  Death is overcome, sin is conquered, love destroys hate. 

 

And there you have it!  Distractions aren't always bad, Christology isn't quite as impossible as I thought (and I can remember a bit of it!), and knowing about Christ can lead to greater love for Him.  Gosh, there are so many other details I could have thought about, so many other teachings by councils that could be traced back to these moments, so many different meanings that could be brought to light in meditating on the passion!  Now, if only I could remember all of that for tomorrow!  Off to study, hope this wasn't completely confusing!  Please send a prayer or two my way!

Well, I have been really busy lately...  3 weeks ago we went on a family vacation out to Washington State - spending time at both Mt. Rainier and Olympic National Parks (both incredibly beautiful and spanning everything from alpine mountains, snow covered peaks, rain forests, the ocean, tons of waterfalls, and so much more) and enjoying a lot of great hiking, eating, kayaking, relaxing, reading, and hanging-out.  It was an absolute blast, and we all had a spectacular time spending time with each other.  Then this last week, after being home for a day, I went over to Brute for the week for something called Brute Days, during which almost 40 young guys (!) from 7th grade and up, came and listened to talks, prayed in common, played sports, and chatted with us seminarians (of which I was happy to be one).  It was not only a great time, and reminded me of similar camps that I greatly enjoyed from years past, it also was an incredible spiritual experience for me personally.  I got to return to praying the divine office in common (something I found I missed from the last month of doing it on my own), and spend an hour in adoration each day (also something I missed), and on top of that all the talks we got were absolutely phenomenal (on the virtues especially important to the priest: charity, humility, simplicity, obedience, and chastity, as well as how the Eucharist is fundamental to, the foundation of, and the font from which all those virtues flow), as were the small-group conversations we had with the guys afterwards (so many great ideas on how to make those virtues concrete in our lives)!  It was wonderful!

This post, though, because typing something about all of that would take me a tremendous amount of time that I don't have (you know, packing for Rome, heading down to Alabama to visit my sister, and a few other little things are keeping me busy), will be about just one of those talks/virtues: simplicity.  

I guess I'll just start with the obvious.  Simplicity is the diocesan "version" of the first of the first of the evangelical virtues (poverty, chastity, obedience).  Basically, since diocesan priests can't take a vow of poverty - because they often don't live in community, and so, need to own things in order to do their "job" - they instead are expected to live a life of simplicity.  What does that mean? - The exact same thing it means for all the other virtues: putting Christ absolutely first.  If you think about it, all the virtues boil down to this incredibly simple task.  CCC 1803: "A virtue is an habitual and firm disposition to do the good. It allows the person not only to perform good acts, but to give the best of himself. The virtuous person tends toward the good with all his sensory and spiritual powers; he pursues the good and chooses it in concrete actions. The goal of a virtuous life is to become like God."  Simplicity and poverty, then, is directed specifically at the area of material, earthly, temporal stuff.  The reality is that we are surrounded, distracted, even bombarded, by things every day.  Stuff, gadgets, entertainment, possessions, fun, relaxation, adventures, whatever - most of the time these things aren't inherently bad/sinful, often times they can be good: when God created the material world, "He saw it was good" - but, these things can turn us away from God if we inordinately desire them, if we place them above God in our lives.  Simplicity is desiring everything as it truly is, God as the greatest good, and everything else as lesser-goods that can lead us to God, or give glory to God.  Like the other virtues, this is the basic orientation of oneself towards the good (which is God); it's "pointing" ourselves towards God above all else and habitually, constantly, continuously choosing to direct our hearts toward God, and not all those things that distract us from Him.

Now, simplicity, in real life, involves giving things up.  Again, it's not like everything around us is bad, quite the contrary, but all-too-often, because of the world (we live in a society that puts pleasure above everything), the flesh (we are weak - fancy term: concupiscence), and the devil (who wants to turn us away from God) we find ourselves overly attached to physical stuff, temporal pleasures, and worldly possessions.  Basically, we put these things above God in the ordering of our lives.  Nicer cars, bigger TVs, newer phones, fancier clothing, expensive vacations - these aren't necessarily bad things - but all-too-often we choose these things ahead of God.  We skip giving money to charity in order to buy that newer car, or we watch that TV instead of saying a daily rosary, or we spend time playing Angry Birds instead of talking with God or neighbor.  Examples abound, basically, our task, our challenge, is to order those things correctly.  To give our first-fruits to God - and then enjoy them ourselves, to force ourselves to spend that extra time in prayer - instead of on Facebook, to get rid of the clutter, and distractions, and attractions that lead us away from God - and choose Him.

It's incredibly hard!  I struggle with all these same things - which is probably why this talk, and this virtue, really resonated with me - but the fact is that if we put anything in front of God in our choices, decisions, actions, and lives in general, we aren't becoming virtuous, we won't learn to love God, and we can't become saints.  Christ promised us eternal happiness, but only if we pick up our cross now, tackle those things that keep us from following Him, and get to work accepting God into our hearts and lives.  It's pretty basic: if our lives are focused on something other than God, then we can't truly receive Christ into our hearts, where He wants to take up His dwelling and fill us with His love, joy, peace, and everything else good.  We just celebrated Corpus Christi - praising and thanking Christ for the gift of Himself that He gives us at every Mass - but, guess what, if we are attached to tons of other passing, unnecessary, and otherwise, non-eternal, things, then our hearts aren't fully ready to receive Him.  I'm not saying we are automatically in mortal sin or something, that requires a much more decisive turning away from God (grave matter, full knowledge, full consent - just to be precise), but until we are striving to clear everything away between us and God, there will be a disconnection - on our end - between us and Him. All the virtues involve the cross because all involve us trusting God more than ourselves, opening our hearts to Him, and not something else.  Simplicity, as well as poverty, is a habitual choice on our part to clear away the things that contaminate, or maybe just fill, our heart and soul, and make way for Christ to fill us with His own love and His own life.

Alright, time to get practical.  One of the other seminarians that was helping out with the retreat, and who I was very glad to be teamed up with (we were both leaders of group 1 - the crusaders), always reiterated to the guys that if they couldn't come up with some practical way to work on these virtues, daily, then most likely they wouldn't make much progress.  Face it, it's hard to habitually do anything, much less something that requires us to put our own (misguided) desires behind us, and instead choose Christ; something that requires us to give up worldly things, hoping for the heavenly things to come.  It's hard to have that insight from faith that allows us to give up momentary pleasures for the sake of eternal ones!  If we don't find a way to work on it every single day, then we aren't going to grow in virtue (remember: it's a habit).  So, how to work on simplicity:  First, pray.  Prayer is opening oneself up to God, and that is exactly what all the virtues require, including simplicity.  Turning ourselves towards God is only possible with His grace, and that grace only can come to the soul open to receiving it!  Furthermore, specifically in the area of simplicity, make it a practice to pray about purchases before you make them - trust me, it's harder to buy that electronic gadget (usually what I am interested in) if you pray about it and really discern whether it will lead you closer to God (of course, if it will, by all means, buy it - if you can afford it).  Second, examine your conscience.  I don't know about you, but I usually neglect this area of life when examining my conscience.  Yeah, I was angry, or I didn't pray, or I over-ate, but I rarely consider the times where I indulged too much in temporal things.  I rarely ask where did I get upset because I didn't get as nice of ___ as I wanted?  Or, when did I spend too much time on the computer?  Or, how did I put something before God today?  It's a big topic, and a tough one, but give it a go!  Third, give something up.  I've already covered prayer, and the second weapon in our spiritual arsenal, fasting can also be an aid to virtue - temperance probably more than simplicity - but the final thing: almsgiving, is directly aimed at increasing simplicity and a poverty of spirit (making room for Christ).  When we give something away - money, clothes, unnecessary belongings, whatever - we detach ourselves from it, and great blessings will certainly follow (an immediate one being a greater pleasure in the smaller - and more important - things, as well as a more intense love for Christ and awareness to His presence and will).  Not only will we be making more room for Christ in our lives, but we will also be uniting ourselves with His cross (in a tiny, little way), and showing love of our neighbor at the same time (which, Christ tells us, is love for Him) - you absolutely can't beat it!  So, choose some little way that you will increase your prayer life - seriously, say an extra Hail Mary every day, it doesn't have to be big, just not sporadic - redouble your diligence in examining your conscience - again, don't overdo it, just figure out where you are failing and resolve to do better tomorrow - and finally, figure out something to give away, or go without - again, not big, but do it every week, or month, or something! 

To conclude!  Christ promises us that "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven".  I can't think of a better goal than that: perfect happiness with God forever!  The difficulty, of course, is allowing God to make us poor in spirit.  He so wants to fill us with Himself - just look at the price He paid to enter our world!  But, He will only give us what we want! 

I've been recently graced with the instigation (that talk and retreat) and opportunity to really focus down on this particular virtue.  Going off to Rome means I have to carefully choose what I am taking with me, and that means simplifying my life, and getting rid (or at least leaving behind) a lot of stuff that has previously filled and constrained my heart.  Christ - I know - is directly challenging me to (literally) leave behind "houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or farms" for Him (Matthew 19:29) so that He can give me "many times as much, and [eventually] eternal life".   (Oh, also, my computer power-cord broke, which is one of the reasons I haven't blogged much, but it is also a chance to work on simplicity - thanks Lord!)

The virtue of simplicity - poverty in spirit - is a difficult and underestimated one, especially in our day and age which constantly emphasizes that wealth, prestige, and pleasure are the ultimate good (notice how that brings in the virtues of humility and temperance along with simplicity).  Our task - as much as the term is overused - is to live counter-culturally.  At Christ's time it was counter-cultural to follow Him, and it still is.  Christ doesn't move - He's always awaiting us at the foot of the cross - but our world is always trying to find away to the joy and love of Christ without approaching the cross.  Guess what, it isn't possible.  Thankfully, Christ gives us all the graces we need in order to brave that cross, to shed those things that pull us away from Him, to ignore, and stand up to, the world that wants us to try and find our own joy, our own love.  Christ, as for all the virtues, is the model of simplicity, our task is to emulate Him, to constantly work to accept His grace (especially from Holy Communion), and to turn our lives ever more fully over to Him.  The message isn't going to change, but will we?

As promised, here's the second half of my experience as subdeacon, and how it forced me to do some serious discernment and deepening of my relationship with God.

On Holy Saturday morning, myself and my brother headed over to St. Rose to practice for the Easter Vigil that we would both be assisting at that evening (him as MC, myself as subdeacon).  I won't go into the whole practice, because that would be really repetitive once I explained the liturgy itself, but it was a moment of resignation to God's Will.  Now that I had been subdeacon once, at the Good Friday liturgy the day

I practiced chanting a bit that afternoon, trying to smooth out the transitions between words and make sure I knew the starting note, cadence, emphasis, and other important details.  It took several run-through's before I got through the entire thing without mis-pronouncing, or mis-singing something, but by that evening I was feeling reasonably confident that I wouldn't completely mess them up.  I spent plenty of time hanging out with my cousins - playing outside, chatting, struggling through some Mario Kart - and we had several delicious meals (thanks mom!), and around 9:30 PM we all headed over for the vigil Mass.

What struck me was that the whole experience wasn't nearly as daunting and overwhelming as I thought it would be.  For Good Friday I thought that being subdeacon would be incredibly difficult, and it wasn't easy by any means, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought.  On Holy Saturday, again, I thought that things would be impossible - complex, tricky, important, uncomfortable - and, again, it wasn't easy, I certainly had to throw myself out there, learn to do new things, push myself out of my comfort zone, but it wasn't really all that bad.  I didn't quite enjoy myself, but I started to see the positives and not the negatives, how the experience was leading me to grow, to giving myself more to others, to abandon myself a bit more to God.  Certainly God's grace was working!  

The ceremony began with the blessing of the Paschal candle and the Exultet, during which my only task was to hold the crucifix - a simple task, but one that became taxing on the arms after 20 minutes or so.  I was already vested in tunicle, amice, and alb - which was a bit less unpleasant than on Good Friday, but still felt weird - and what kept going through my head was the fact that I would soon have to chant one of the four lessons (going through salvation history).  As it always seems to happen, time kept going forward, and eventually the Exultet finished, I set the cross down, and the readings started.  I had a few more minutes before mine (while the first two were chanted), but then had to step up to the ambo, take a deep breath, and start chanting.  I was nervous, and sweating, and afraid, but the first word came out pretty well and then everything just flowed smoothly until the end (like a minute later).  Following that - summarizing a lot - I eventually got the cross again, we had the blessing of the baptismal water, the renewal of baptismal promises, the second half of the litanies, and then Easter Mass!  Unfortunately, most of the Mass I was concerned with what I had to do next, so I wasn't paying too much attention, but it was a beautiful, exciting, joyous ceremony.  Simplifying things greatly, I basically followed the deacon's cues on where to stand/move and the only exceptional things that I did were to chant the epistle (thankfully it was short, I started on a note that I could hold throughout, and I held the melody throughout - success again!  Thank you God!) and hold the paten during the canon and consecration (another somewhat awkward moment, but one that brought me closer to Christ as I knelt there and adored my risen savior in the Eucharist).  The rest of Mass spun along as usual - I didn't invalidate anything, or light anything on fire, or otherwise make too many mistakes - and then the triumphant closing hymn began and we processed out.  

Looking back, I have just begun to see the positives of the whole experience.  Of course, as I think I've been emphasizing (probably too much), being subdeacon was hard.  Not so much in the sense that what I did was difficult, even the chanting wasn't terribly scary, but I just didn't feel ready to step into that role, to put on the amice, and tunicle, and beretta.  I think I was scared of the reminder that the whole experience evoked in me of what I was in seminary for - to become a priest - and that ordination is a (God-willing) fast-approaching reality.  Ordination, now 4 years out (if everything goes as usual) is something that I don't think about too much - it's scary, it's putting myself totally in God's service, it's a commitment to live like Christ, which is audacious, incredible, beautiful, and terrifying - but being subdeacon reminded me of that eventual goal.  It put me in a position much closer to the priest than ever before; I had a part in the liturgy unlike "just" serving or reading.  However, by offering up the whole ordeal/experience to Christ, I was able to bring myself a bit closer to Him, to more deeply love Him at least a little bit (especially because it was during the triduum).  I guess I see the whole experience as a sort of Good Friday or Holy Saturday.  Obviously, it was nothing like the suffering and death of Our Lord, but it did involve a bit of suffering and dying to self, something that always seems necessary for holiness.  But something that I have come to realize is that in being subdeacon - certainly it was hard, it was death to self - but it was also Easter, it was also a moment that God filled with grace.  The Paschal mystery is all about how God bring good out of evil - specifically the greatest good of salvation out of the worst evil, the death of Jesus.  Through the smidgen of suffering and fear that I endured in being subdeacon, He brought me closer to Himself.  God made me realize that being a priest entails precisely this kind of laying down of my life for God and for all of His children.  You know what, seminary is a lot of fun, even during finals week (right now) there's a camaraderie and excitement to being with all the other guys and knocking out finals together.  Seminary is about turning yourself over to Christ, but it doesn't hurt all that much usually.  Being subdeacon wasn't much fun, I really, really, didn't want to do it.  Yet, in doing it, I was brought closer to Christ than in doing the hard things (that are fun) in seminary.  Those moments allowed me to realize things that I hadn't thought about during many hours in prayer, the hardest of finals, or my favorite passages of Scripture.

Yeah, so in conclusion I guess I learned to trust more in God.  Not only that He would get me through doing hard and fearful things, but that He is capable of bringing great good out of things that I can't find good in, or I find very difficult.  Reliance on God - it's easy to think about and hard to live out, but such is the goal of sanctity.  Jesus I trust in You!

This video - embedded a bit lower in this post - from Fr. Barron really struck me (Seriously, watch it, it's awesome!).  Not only is it well done and has a great sound track, but it also "throws down the gauntlet" of Christianity - that Christ crucified is the epitome of happiness and freedom!  This isn't an easy message - much of the modern world has rejected it - but it is the message of Christ.  That giving oneself completely to God and to others isn't bondage and isn't sorrow, that laying down one's life isn't a loss but a gain.  Folks, this isn't obvious or easy!  The crucifix shows us a man brutally - unthinkably - tortured and murdered, yet that is the sign of our victory, it is in that image that our hope truly lies.  During Lent we are called to unite ourselves - at least in a small way - with Jesus' cross; to pull some of those planks out of our own eyes, to pluck those things out of ourselves that keep us away from Our Lord, to eventually pick up our own cross and follow after Him.  Why?  This seems counter-intuitive.  I don't know about you, but some of those planks are enjoyable and - let's face it - the cross is hard.

Some times I have wondered why Jesus got up after each fall.  Think about it, if you were dragging this heavy cross - the torture device that you are destined to die on - through the windy, steep, cobblestone streets of ancient Jerusalem towards the hill on which you were to be nailed to it so that you would die in indescribably agony, why would you get up once it crushed you into the street?  What pain could the soldiers inflict that would convince you to move, to heave that wooden monstrosity once more onto your back, to begin moving again?  You're just going to die at the end of it all anyway, why not die here?  Of course, the answer is love.  Jesus got up those three times and continued on out of love for you, and love for me.  It must have taken supernatural strength to lift that cross again and again, that supernatural strength is love.  God gives us that same supernatural grace!  Of course, we aren't God and man, like Christ - but God calls us to the same destiny, the same total gift of self, the same unpopular, sometimes painful, apparently difficult task.  Will we die in indescribable anguish on a cross? - probably not.  However, by allowing us the chance to unite our crosses, our struggles, our falls with His, Our Lord offers to unite His resurrection with us.  The only way to the Resurrection is through death on the cross.  The only way that Christ can accept us into Heaven saying "well done, good and faithful servant" is if we were good and faithful.  Both are difficult - being good means following the commands of Christ, being faithful means sticking with Him through all life's difficulties - but both are worth it and both are possible.  Worth it, obviously, because we will spend eternity in complete bliss with God in heaven.  Possible because God pours into us the grace of His love (especially in the Eucharist).  

We must not avoid the cross!  As Fr. Barron proclaims, in the cross is our happiness and our freedom.  Not only in that on the cross Christ bought us freedom from sin and death, and made the happiness of heaven available to us, but the cross in our own lives - the struggles we encounter in life, the planks we have to pull from our eyes, the sins that we must wrestle with, the world that unceasingly opposes living a life centered on Christ - also allows us true happiness and freedom.  Both go together: true freedom leads to true happiness, and true freedom is only found when we have eliminated those addictions, those struggles, those things that keep us from being the person we are really supposed to be.  

We talked today in class (philosophical themes in Catholic authors) about how all ethics eventually boils down to being based on teleology (man using his intellect and will to become who he is supposed to be) or pleasure/pain (man subordinating his intellect to passions, becoming a person who strives only after pleasure).  Of course, the first route is the one shown and given by Christ - us finding that the short term pain of the cross (and everything that goes along with it) leads in the long term to true happiness.  The second route is the one proclaimed by the devil - just eat the apple, make yourself like God; just do what makes you feel good - and it will lead to destruction because inherently we are made for more.  We are made to become sons and daughters of God! 

St. Augustine was right when he said "our hearts are restless until they rest in you [God]".  Folks, no earthly thing, activity, position, past-time, or power will make us truly, perfectly, infinitely, and eternally happy - that happiness can only come from God.  He gives us the model (Christ crucified), the strength (His grace), the reward (happiness with Him), and the freedom to choose - and then He leaves it up to us.  Christ doesn't force us to follow Him, after all His hands are nailed to the cross, but He begs us, He yearns for us, He died for us, so that we could do just that.  God knows where we will be most happy and He became one of us not only to make that happiness available to us but also to show us how we can reach it.   

As for me, bring it on!

Today at the campus-wide Ash Wednesday Mass at Marian, Fr. Joe gave an enthusiastic homily exhorting everyone to remember their Christian vocation of being "ambassadors for Christ" (from the second reading, II Corinthians 5:20-6:2).  He noted that in our day and age we tend to forget this basic call, this fundamental part of being Christian, and Lent is a chance to "be reconciled to God" (again from St. Paul) "rend[ing] our hearts" (from the first reading, Joel 2:12-18).  

Fr. Joe told the story much better than I have related it here, but I think it still beautifully shows how lent is a time of both internalizing and externalizing the life of Christ, it's about conversion both inside and outside of ourselves.  Fasting, as I explained in that previous post, is about suffering, but it is also about opening ourselves up to Christ.  Alms-giving is about aiding the poor, but it is also about doing all the corporal and spiritual works of mercy.  Prayer is about speaking to God, but it is also about listening, and it is about asking for God's help and mercy for ourselves, but it is also about interceding for others.  In short, Lent is a time to learn to be unselfish - prayer, fasting, alms-giving, they must all lead to our internal growth towards Christ and our external living of that life of Christ.  

The reading from mid-afternoon prayer today, which I ran across shortly after starting this post, tells us to "Atone for your sins by good deeds, and for you misdeeds by kindness to the poor; then your prosperity will be long." [Daniel 4:24]  I happily noted that it succinctly recounted what I was trying to get at in this post, that our atonement (conversion) must entail more than sacrifice, or even sacrifice offered with the correct internal orientation towards Christ, it must lead to us living our lives in such a way that it is obvious to all that we follow Christ.  Today this is easy, everybody can see the smudge of ash that is more-or-less cross-shaped on our foreheads, but tomorrow, and every other day, we must continue to keep this symbol in mind.  Those ashes, like the other penances we undertake during this Lent, must remind us that we are dust and to dust we shall return, and because of this we must constantly strive to redirect our lives towards Christ, and His cross - internally and externally.  Turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel!

St. Maximilian Kolbe is a fantastic example of the extremes that Christ calls us to show love for others.

From Friday evening until noon on Saturday, we had the first day of recollection of the year.  These are basically mini-retreats that we have a few times each semester during which we don't use electronics, we spend extra time in prayer together, and we listen to several talks, usually on a specific topic, by a speaker that comes in for the weekend.  This last one was given by Br. John Mark Falkenhain O.S.B., a monk from St. Meinrad, who (along with other things) is in charge of vocations at St. Meinrad.  He gave us a formation conference (which are shorter, single, talks that we usually have on Wednesdays) last year on celibacy, and everyone found it beneficial, so he was invited back to give us a day of recollection focused on that topic.  It's a tricky topic to talk about (which is why I haven't talked about it much), but it's a rather important part of seminary, so I wanted to share it with all of you.  I took plenty of notes, but boiling things down, here's what we learned:

In his first talk, Br. John Mark gave us an overview of what celibacy is all about, and how, through the seminary process, we have to learn about it, and if our vocation is in fact to become priests, we have to grow into celibacy.  He started by bluntly pointing out that, for the moment, we (all us seminarians) had chosen to be celibate.  We had put ourselves in that "box", so to speak, in order to learn about it and discern if that was something that we were called to (and able to) commit to for the rest of our lives.  The program for priestly formation (from the USCCB) says that human formation (one of the four pillars that seminarians are formed in) entails self-knowledge, self-acceptance, and self-gift (in that order).  Basically, we can't possibly give ourselves to Christ, the Church, or the people until we know ourselves (more on this later).  Thus, looking at the area of celibacy, he laid out five areas in which, though the seminary process, we needed to know ourselves in.  

1. motives for celibacy (why a person decides to be celibate)
2. theology for celibacy (what gives meaning to your celibacy)
3. sexual identity 
4. strengths/skills
5. weaknesses/limitations

On Wednesday a few guys, including myself, went over and did some exercising in the gym at Marian.  I am lucky enough to not have classes until 9:30 or 10:00 each day, so I tagged along with them and forced myself to do some exercising.  We got there around 8:00 AM and I started looking for a machine to use (there is a rather large assortment of machines).  I didn't really want to use the treadmill primarily because it is boring, so I took a cue from one of the other guys and went for a stationary bicycle.  Of course, I didn't want take the one right next to him, that's just kind of awkward, and I didn't want to take one of the ones that is super cushy, with a huge seat and straight up and down position, so I went for the third and final kind of bike which turned out to be the elite, racing-style bike, forward swept handle-bars and all.  I didn't really mind the different position, whenever I'm riding my (more typically shaped bike) I tend to lean forward rather than sit straight up anyway, so I figured it would work just fine.  

Well, it did, sort of.  There were only two buttons - mode and reset - which neither seemed to turn it on, but thankfully, after hopping onto it and pedaling, the display fired right up.  Victory!  Now, I usually don't require much in the way of data or metrics, but I do expect the basics, which this machine apparently didn't give.  I flipped through all two pages of the display and it didn't show either time or distance, though it showed cadence, kila-joules, and watts.  Hmm, not very useful to me...  Anyway, I kept pumping away at the machine, twisting this little knob under the handlebars that made things harder or easier (and made the numbers get bigger or grow faster or get smaller and grow slower respectively).  As you can probably tell, I didn't really know what I was doing, but I kept at it either way and after several minutes of hard effort made it to the incredible accomplishment of 100 kila-joules (with a peak power output of over 300 watts)!  I still have no idea what those numbers mean, but I'm sure they are spectacular... (maybe not...)

OK, continuing the story - I promise I'll get to something important eventually - I decided  after biking for a little while that I had had enough of that, so I moved over to the treadmills.  Again there were a lot of options, but I ended up picking one that larger (which usually means that it can go faster) and had a bigger display (no more goofy telemetry).  Anyway, I got onto it and it asked me for my weight, so I hit select, which apparently wasn't the button to hit because it skipped to the next screen, where it asked me to choose an exercise type.  I looked at the buttons and found that I could choose between fat burn, cardio, hill reps, and speed reps.  I thought briefly about my options and went with the hill reps - I figured that I could choose a speed and then it would automatically make the grade go up and down - sort of like the real world.  It then asked for a difficulty level - some number from 1 to 10 - so I chose something on the higher end and hit start.  Off it went - at 1% incline and .5 mph...  Well, that wasn't quite fast enough (to say the least), so I pushed the increase speed button and then pushed it again, and again, and again.  Unfortunately, it beeped every time it went up an increment in speed, so after a lot of beeping I was cruising along at 8 mph and a few percent incline.  Alright, thought I, time for some exercise.  

I glanced up to the TV (which was right in front of me) and saw that they were showing some replays of basketball games.  I don't really watch basketball, but it was better than watching the wall, so I started watching the game.  Wham!  The incline went up to 4% (which was pretty high for me) and 5 mph (which is barely faster than a walk, in other words, slow) - alright, I increased the speed up to where I wanted it and settled back into my run.  Wham!  Again the incline changed, and again the speed dropped.  I pushed it back to where I wanted it - less incline, more speed - and continued my run.  Well, as you probably could guess, it did it again - but this time the incline went up to 12% at which point I nearly fell off the treadmill because I wasn't expecting it, and again, the speed reset to whatever it wanted.  Alright, enough of that, I switched to speed-rep mode, expecting it to go with whatever speed I set and then bump up a bit every so often from there.  I was wrong again, because it just kept resetting the speed to 5 mph, then 5.5 mph, then 7 mph, then 6 mph, etc.  After another minute of wrestling with this I hit stop (I had done 1 mile in 8 minutes) and looked for manual mode.  I did eventually find it and did another 12 minutes of running - this time with myself controlling everything - and finished with a total of 2.6 miles in 20 minutes.  I would have gone further but the constantly changing speed (and loss of momentum) had burnt me out.

So, what was the point of these stories.  Well, first of all, I wanted to share something that happened to me that was pretty funny, but I am also hoping to be able to apply the story to a topic from the faith.  I know I am new at this, so hopefully this example isn't really cheesy, but the real subject of this post is peace.  Often times - like that bike that didn't tell me what was going on, or the treadmill that kept changing the speed or incline - we don't know what life will bring us each day, and when we do know, we sometimes don't enjoy it very much.  Basically, life isn't always fun!  Sometimes we lose friends or family, sometimes work (or school) is stressful, sometimes we have to do things that we really, really don't want to, sometimes prayer doesn't seem to be "working", sometimes life is hard, sometimes that alarm is too early.  Through all of this we try to find some peace and joy and most of the time it just doesn't work.  Our lives are busy, we are tired, and we feel like we are running from one things to the next just putting out fires.  And, you know what, that is part of life.  Hardships are part of the human experience (at least since we started sinning); however, while life will continue to be full of things that we don't like (for lack of a better term), we can still be filled with peace.  How? We have to get our peace from Christ.

In the Gospel, we see countless times where someone (or a group) is full of fear, or anxiety, or troubles, and we hear the words "peace be with you".  Some examples: After the Resurrection, Jesus appears in the upper room to his previously despairing, now startled, disciples, and the first thing that Jesus says is "Peace be with you" - Luke 24:36  Again, right before the Ascension, to his disciples who are distraught at the prospect of Him leaving, Jesus says "Peace I leave with you" - John 14:27.  Now, these examples aren't really helpful, yeah, Jesus gave them His peace, great, where do I get it?  Well, keep reading.  

In the same passage from John, Jesus continues: "my peace I give to you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid."  Here is the important part - this peace is different than the world's peace.  It isn't from the world.  True peace, as Arch-Abbot Lambert explained in our retreat last week, can only be given from, and found in, Christ.  God's perspective isn't ours, and he wants to transform all those problems, difficulties, and times of sadness into opportunities for us to grow closer to Him.  We must accept them, these crosses, as such - as means of reparation for our own sins (and others'), as times where we can learn greater trust of God, as ways to learn detachment, and as opportunities to grow in virtue.  In short, the peace of Christ, which is the only true peace, comes from learning to rely on Him and use every moment, regardless of how much we enjoy it, to become more Christlike.  This is the Little Way of St. Theresa of Lisieux, of offering up everything to God and doing everything for God.  It's not like God plans out our life and every so often sends in a difficulty - like one of those boss-levels in a video game - but whenever we are struggling He gives us the grace to persevere (which we need to accept) and the option of using that moment to grow closer to Him and become more like Him.  

Unfortunately, that's all I've got.  As an addendum I should note that this is by no means complete - there are so many other fantastic spiritual writers that have more experience than I, can write more beautifully and richly than I, know their faith better than I, and basically this means that I am undoubtedly leaving a lot out.  However, I wanted to tell you what is going on around here and simultaneously tell you something that I have been (slowly) learning through the seminary process: rely on God.  Finally, I need to say that there is another direction one could go with the topic of peace, that of becoming peacemakers (from the beatitudes).  I'll have to hit that topic at some point in the future.  Happy Friday!

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit - Romans 15:13