Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts

The Cross, and the Face of Christ, In Calcutta

A group of young guys we visited on the way to Mother Theresa's Center for Lepers
I’m starting to write this listening to the rain pour down on the roof outside.  Scratch that, I’m writing this as Niagra Falls apparently has relocated to the skies above me; the amount of water that has precipitated from the heavens during the past five minutes seems borderline impossible.  I should note that I haven’t seen any cats or dogs falling along with the rain drops, but there are plenty of those outside wondering the streets as well, along with goats, and chickens, and cows.   I’m in Calcutta (in India), it’s monsoon season, and I’m spending 3 and a half weeks working with the Missionaries of Charity, at the place where Bl. Mother Theresa started them 65+ years ago.  


Not that I ever expected to be here - almost exactly on the opposite side of the world as home, and nearly as far from Rome as Rome is from the mid-west - but ever since the middle of last semester it became evident that coming here was an option, and quickly something I was very interested in doing.  Unfortunately, I thought of the experience very abstractly, very idealistically.  “it’ll be beautiful”, I’d think, “to help the poor of India, to see the places where Theresa of Calcutta walked and worked, and to experience a culture very different than my own.”  And so it is, but the beauty took a while for me to find it.  

The thing was, Calcutta is anything but abstract.  The torrential rain; the mangy cats and dogs, and cows and goats; the gazillion-percent humidity; the throngs of people - some selling street food, clothes, or hindu offerings, others carrying buckets of water, kids, chickens, or whatever, some swathed in eastern-garments, others in jeans and t-shirts, others in not much at all; the ancient busses, taxis, motorcycles, auto-rickshaws (and person-powered rickshaws), bicycles, and carts of all kinds; the grime on, and surrounding, so many buildings (somehow still there after even the most powerful deluge), the garbage and sewage on the streets, and everything else.  Calcutta is an eye-opening experience like no other, and I was unprepared to be confronted by it when I got here.  I told people that this would be quite the experience, but where I was ready to see the city, help the sisters, see if I could handle the food (answer: sort of) I wasn’t ready to see 3rd-world destitution first hand.

The convent where we got lodging is a 15-minute walk from the Mother-House of the MC’s, through a pretty poor area of the city.  It’s not quite people living in cardboard houses, but it’s close.  The buildings are poor, many very dilapidated, people bathe in the streets, along with all the trash, chicken-butchering, and food-cooking, and only recently have I realized that this isn’t the slum, it’s not far off from the way the average person lives here.  The MC’s immediately assigned me to Nirmala Hriday each morning - Mother Theresa’s first center in Calcutta (after the Mother-House itself), - a home for very sick, and dying, men and women.  It’s right next to a Hindu temple (Kalighat), and entails a 30 minute ride on the Calcutta bus system (an experience all its own, with the old, now heavily decorated busses, and loads of people), and then a walk through the market up to the Hindu temple (some days absolutely jammed with people, as in, the densest crowd I’ve ever been in).  But, of course, that is just the beginning.  After arriving, I was confronted by the site of 50+ men, of all ages, slowly moving (sometimes crawling) from their cots to the main room, being washed, fed, bandaged, medicated, and otherwise cared for.  I had never seen anything like it, and I didn’t really know what to do.  So I helped where I saw a need - washing clothes, trying to talk with the men, spoon-feeding some of them, mopping up, scooting them around on chairs, holding their hands and just smiling at them.  It was exhausting work, a bit terrifying, sometimes revolting.  

After Kalighat, we usually try to find something to eat, whether that be bread and peanut-butter from a grocery store or some food at a cafe (there’s a couple that other volunteers have pointed us to that are sanitary), but after lunch we have ended up doing a variety of different things.  We’re officially assigned to Daya Dan, another MC center, this one for young men/boys who are disabled in one way or another.  Some are blind, some very emaciated, some with mental problems or learning disabilities, others just under-developed.  It’s hard work all the same, again it’s just very draining to try and figure out how best to help these guys, especially when I don’t know the language or how capable they are.  The other day I was trying to help teach one of them who is blind how to climb the stairs.  He did make it up eventually, but I was frustrated by his inability to really do it on his own.  He just didn’t seem to ever pick up the rhythm of stepping, pulling, stepping, pulling…  Another one of the boys I tried to feed a snack the other day, but I didn’t know how to tell him to swallow, and he didn’t seem to understand that rather important stage of the process, so we ended up with most of the snack, and a good bit of added saliva, still in the bowl afterwards.

So, basically, on the face of things, the days have been filled with a lot of challenges.  It’s frustrating because everything is so different, disgusting because so much of the city is so squalid (not the MC centers, I must emphasize), distressing because these men, and so many of the people I see, are in such dire straights, and disconcerting because I am so unprepared to cope with, and respond to, what I’ve been seeing.  I just finished spending 3 weeks studying Catholic social teaching, but we had mainly discussed bringing the faith back to a western world, that is ignoring, rejecting, or persecuting it.  I have spent a year studying theology, but we’ve stuck mainly with Scripture (reading and interpreting it), the Trinity, the Church (theologically, historically, currently), and doctrines of the faith (understanding and explaining them).  I’ve spent 3 years in seminary, gradually growing in my ability to pray, study, think, reflect, and trust in God. I thought I was doing pretty well all-in-all, and then I got here and I found myself at a loss as to what I could do in the face of so many struggling people, and my person discomfort in the face of, and living amidst, all of that.

Thankfully, God’s grace has been abundantly active over these past couple of weeks!  During all those moments of frustration, or disgust, He’s given me glimpses of beauty and love.  So often on the walk back each evening - when I might be lost thinking about the smells or grime - some of the kids who live there chase after us calling out “hello!”, “good night!”.  Their laughter and friendliness is just beautiful.  At Kalighat, the guys are so grateful simply for our presence.  One of them, Thomas, has a condition where all his muscles are locked up, so he can barely move and is kind of curled in on himself.  So, myself and some of the other volunteers will usually try to spend some time each day trying to stretch those muscles and loosen him up a little.  He will say “more” to tell us to keep pushing/pulling, “volunteer tea time” when our break-time comes each morning, and will break into the most beautiful, single-tooth, grin when we’re working with him.  Just the moments of grace that come each evening during our Holy Hours (either with the Missionaries of Charity at their motherhouse or sometimes the MC Fathers at their rectory) are awesome.  Our Lord is so generous in His consolations after my pitiful attempts to be a glimpse of His love to those I work with each day!  

In the end, I’ve been forced nearer than ever to the cross, mainly in the sufferings of those that live here and in my own pitiful attempts to help them.  It’s a daily struggle to be here - when I work, I don’t know what I’m doing, when I sleep, I sweat, when I eat, I mostly want things I can’t get here (a salad would be absolutely amazing!), when I move around, I am repulsed by the roads, crushed by the crowds, or ripped-off by the taxi drivers.  Yet all these things, as I said, I’ve realized are a chance to draw close to the heart of Christ.  When Peter rebuked Jesus for thinking about going to Jerusalem to die, Christ had tough words for him.  Why?  Because the cross is the heart of who Jesus is.  It is only on the cross that Our Lord allows “king of the Jews” to be written (before He had always avoided that title) - not because He wasn’t king before, but because the cross shows Him to be the king of love, the king who suffers for us, the king who takes our sins upon Himself.  So yeah, Calcutta isn’t much fun, but it has been an amazing experience nonetheless because of that great grace that it is to stand for a while nearer to the cross.  Pray for me that I will accept that grace without complaint, asking Our Lady to help me (she's the first and closest one to the cross) and learn to love a bit more like Jesus because of it.

Water, on the roads (in a bus on the way to Kalighat)
Random side note: it’s now a couple days after I started this post and now it’s sunny and hot outside…  BUT, between now and then, there were also times when a foot of water was covering about half of the roads in Calcutta…  

Less random side note: I also have now experienced the so called “kiss of Calcutta”, otherwise described as being miserably sick for 3 days with a high fever and not being able to keep anything down - thankfully, now I’m just about back to 100%.
Final note: because I wasn't able to get to the internet over the past week or so, I'm actually now back in Rome having spent the last couple days in Chennai (further South in India, still on the East coast) seeing the city and especially the tomb of the Apostle St. Thomas.  
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Evangelize with Love

Part of the struggle of bringing Catholic social doctrine to the public sphere (to a great extent, what the Tertio program that I just returned from, was looking at) is the fact that our world is much less receptive to rational, nature-based, arguments than ever before.  Pope Benedict called this the dictatorship of relativism, but quite simply (if tragically) this is the "anything goes" mentality which rejects any objective, unchanging, everybody-can-figure-it-out, truth for a world based on "your truth" and "my truth".  Well, it's pretty simple, if you don't have an objective truth to mutually rely on, you really can't have a discussion: if you don't have any common ground, you can't have a conversation.  So what do we do when rational discussion breaks down?  How do we bring Christ's truth to the world?

I was discussing this with one of the Sisters of Life who were also attending the seminar, and she grinned when I brought up this question, and said "we just have to be martyrs!"  It was an answer I should have known, but it was one that led to a lot of thinking, and praying about, over the following weeks.  We talked about the exact same thing in our small-group discussions; how do we bring the truth of the Gospel to our modern, anti-Gospel, world?  The answer was hanging above our heads, where the crucifix showed us how Christ brought the Gospel to His anti-Gospel world; He didn't argue that God is love, He showed it.

We, of course, have to do the same thing.  And folks, these times where the anti-Gospel is so rampant, allow us to do just that - to proclaim with our lives, with our witness [martyras/μάρτυρας in the Greek], the truth of the Gospel.  People aren't convinced anymore by rational argument - fine - show them that the Gospel is true because your life is evidence for it.  Show them that following the truth of Christ isn't bondage, but freedom, not oppression  but joy.  And here's the key point that I wanted to make in this post: this is exactly the approach we need to take in the (so attacked today) realm of respect for life.  We must show the world that every human person deserves our respect and love by giving that respect and love to every human person.  It's easy to rally in support of the unborn - they're defenseless, yet we mercilessly, pointlessly, atrociously, murder them, that is an injustice that drives us to act.  It's "easy", in this sense, to show our love for the unborn (even if not socially beneficial nowadays), but what about when love is hard?  Our Lord calls us to "love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" - when was the last time you showed your love publicly for an enemy? Do we go out of our way to show love for those in Planned Parenthood who were recently exposed for selling the body parts of aborted babies?  What they did was unthinkable (though the logical, utilitarian, conclusion from legalized abortion), but how much time have you spent praying for them?  What about the ISIS-attacker, who recently assaulted (and nearly murdered) a tourist at the Colosseum?  What about the gay-marriage activists who have recently won the federal right for two men or women to marry each other?  We may be similarly repulsed by these evils, but does it drive us to love or hatred towards the persons committing them?  

Not for one instant am I saying that what these individuals have done is morally right.  Abortion is wrong because it is the destruction of human life (and selling body parts from that is tantamount to cannibalism), ISIS-executions are wrong for the same reasons (and so many others), and "gay"-marriage is wrong because it not only hurts any children that couple would raise, but destroys the fundamental element, purpose, and structure of society, and goes against one of God's first commands, to "be fruitful and multiply" (besides going against His creation itself: they're called "reproductive" organs for a reason).  What we should realize though is that all these terrible actions are rooted in a fundamental misunderstanding, or ignoring, of human dignity.  Murder and homosexual actions are wrong because human life is sacred, and we cannot destroy, or redefine, what God has created in His image.  But, here's the big point, we must not forget that innate sacredness, that made-in-God's-image, that ability to give and receive love, that is ours as human persons, in our outrage at rejections of that dignity.  Our reaction to sins against the human person must not lead us to commit sins against different human persons (the perpetrators of the original evils).  

John Paul II forgiving his would-be assassin
To hatred, we must respond with love.  To a rejection of God, we must respond with prayer.  To oppression, we must respond with solidarity.  To terrorism, we must respond with charity.  This is as much of a challenge for me as it is for any of you I suppose.  The difficulty lies in hating sin, but loving the sinner, in making reparation for evil, but interceding for evil-doers.  It has nothing to do with being push-overs, but if we take Christ as our model, we see that love must be our answer, to those who love us, and those who don't.  Not a weak, "luv", but the greatest love: of laying down one's life for another (and his eternal life).  Only this kind of love will convert hearts to Christ because only this kind of love truly mirrors to the world the love of Christ. 

Kolbe holds a crucifix for good reason
Story: It is the end of July, 1941, in Auschwitz, and the Nazi's choose 10 individuals at random to die as a punishment for the escape of three of their fellow prisoners.  Fr. Maximilian Kolbe steps forwards and offers to go in place of another man who had cried out upon being chosen for this terrible death (starvation and dehydration in an underground cell).  The shocked Nazi official authorizes the swap, and the 10 men march off to their deaths.  Two weeks later, having sung hymns or knelt in prayer for most of that horrendous time, Fr. Kolbe is still alive and is killed with an injection of carbolic acid.  The guards place his body in a coffin and cremate it.  St. Maximilian Kolbe is an amazing example of love, but not only for the man who's place he took, but also for the guards who he prayed for, and surrendered to, even after they had tortured him, and then sent him to this excruciating death.  That love had an effect!  Not only did Franciszek Gajowniczek (the one whose place was taken by Kolbe) get to return to his family after WWII, but even the Nazi guards, seeing that incredible witness of Christ-like love, were moved to place his body in a coffin and respectfully carry it to the cremating ovens.  That was the only time in Auschwitz that we know of a "respectful" burial, and those guards did that because they saw something different in Kolbe, they saw love in the midst of hatred, grace in the midst of hell, a saint in the midst of sin.  

We're called to that same witness, that same courageous love, which doesn't attack evil with evil, but displaces it with the greater power of charity.  We may not convince the world with our arguments, but we will with our Christ-driven, and given, love.  In a world of great sin, saints are all the more visible.  

"By this all men will know that you are My disciples, 
if you have love for one another." 
- John 13:35 - 
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Weakness, the Starting Point of the Greatest Saints

I don't know about you, but I often have grandoise, or at least ambitious, plans to do these great things and change myself, the world, or whatever, for the better.  For instance, I was a bit disapointed in myself this past semester because I got really busy with a lot of (great) things and didn't have as much time as I wanted for other (greater) things, like reading those books outside of class, or visiting those churches around Rome that I haven't seen yet, or creating videos around the Eternal City, etc.  So, I've been thinking about next semester and trying to plan on making room for those things.  I want to spend 2 or 3 hours each afternoon reading/studying, at least an hour praying, and, more specifically concerned with this blog, I want to spend more time blogging, like, 30 minutes every day or something.  Problem: I didn't have that much time last semester, and I don't think I'll suddenly have an extra couple hours each day to devote to these, and other, projects, this semester.  It's disheartening!  I want to do so much and then I not only don't get those things done, but I fall down in so many other ways as well!  

So right now I'm actually in Krakow, Poland for something called the Tertio Millennia Seminar, where myself and about 34 (ok, exactly 34) other students from around the US and Eastern Europe are studying the history behind, life of, writings/teachings of, and impact of St. John Paul II.  It's absolutly amazing, not only to be studying in such a cool place, under such great professors (George Weigel, the guy who wrote that thousand-page biography of JPII, is one of them), and in a program instigated by JPII, but all those factors combined with the lucidity, power, applicability, and impactfulness of the teachings of our late, great, pope, and the fact that he's one of my personal favorite saints, is just amazing.  

Long story short, that actually has to do with my complaint in the first paragraph.  Something I've realized over the past year is that I have a streak of a perfectionism, or maybe just over-achieverism (is that a word?  yeah, probably not...) in me, and so when I see a great saint I want to be like them.  Now, obviously, I know that we're all called to a specific time and place, with specific talents, abilities, graces, and history, all of which God directs at an individual vocation, but I still want to be a saint (that's kind of the whole point of being created in the first point).  And so, when I hear that JPII prayed for 6 hours a day (and brought down Soviet communism), or John Vianney lived on a potato a day (and spent 18 hours in the confessional), or Mother Theresa was an absolute beacon of joy while in the midst of great interior darkness (and opened like 500 centers during her life time to care for the poor/ill), I want to be like that.  Saints are just super inspirational, and I get all fired up to live the faith like they did ... and then I fail to even get close.  I don't get even my holy hour in every day, I struggle to pass up one invitation to go get ice cream, and when I get distracted in prayer I give up so quickly and don't even try to give my attention to God.  

Thankfully, there's an answer in our greatest model, Jesus Christ.  Now wait, you say, He is God and man, absolutely perfect, absolute love, how could He possibly be a easier example to follow?  Isn't following Him shooting even higher and doomed to even greater failure?  You think JPII prayed, look at the example that Christ gives in the Agony (and so many other times)!  You think that the Cure of Ars sacrificed, look at calvary (or just Our Lord's life in general)!  You think Mother Theresa's prayer life was dry, listen to the cry of anguish on the cross - "My God, My God, why have you abandoned me" - as Our Lord is burdened beneath the wretchedness of all our sins.  And this is a valid complaint, there is no way we can "match" Christ in his generosity, mercy, humility, obedience, sacrificial love, prayer, or anything.  Yet He still tells us to "be perfect as Your heavenly Father is perfect."  Aren't we doomed to failure?  

No, we're not!  Look to Christ, look to those saints, what did they do?  They were perfect, just as God is, in giving their all.  JPII had the grace to be able to pray for long periods of time, inspire people with his words, and not sleep much, and so He gave that time and ability to God.  Vianney was given the physical endurance to fast constantly, yet minister so completely to so many penitents who flocked to them.  Bl. Theresa of Calcutta was given the strength to carry on, in joy, in the midst of great trial and distress.  All these saints though - and this is the big point - weren't completely, divinely, perfect, they were perfect in as much as they gave everything - their weakness and their strengths - totally back to God, totally in His service.  Saints aren't people who don't have weaknesses, they are those who allow God to fill their weaknesses with His grace.  

These thoughts were running through my head as I knelt in Adoration in the Church of St. Florian here in Krakow (Fr. Wojtyla's first parish after his ordination), and I was very grateful to Our Lord for inspiring me as I gazed at the crucifix, not only with this idea of the weakness of the saints, but also of the weakness of Himself on calvary.  Jesus must have wanted to give so much more on the cross, yet He couldn't, He was physically limited in how much torture he could endure.  Why was He "only" on the cross for 6 hours or so - Pilate himself was surprised when he found out that Our Lord had died so quickly - couldn't he have shown His love in an even more astounding way by even greater sufferings?  Now, don't think I'm saying that Our Lord's sacrifice was inadequate, or that it wasn't one of the most brutal, painful, deaths in the history of the world, His incarnation alone was more than enough to save all of us, but, Christ is all love, and He chose the passion to show that love to us in a most raw and amazing way, and yet He falls on the way to calvary, He cries out in the midst of that anguish, He dies after "only" several hours (some crucified persons suffered for days).  Why?  He was willing to be weak before God, and before us.  He was "humble to the point of death, death on a cross."

This is the essence of sanctity, not to be good enough to do incredible things, but to be humble enough to let God do those incredible things.  JPII, John Vianney, Mother Theresa - these weren't super-humans, they were supernaturalized-humans.  It isn't as if really strong people can live on a potato a day, or shear determination could get somebody through a holy-six-hours, or if you were tough enough then total darkness in the spiritual life doesn't effect you.  No!  It was precisely, and only, in the fact that they relied on God completely, not themselves, that they could do those amazing things, and the same is true of us.  God calls us to give Him everything, and let Him do the rest.  That's true humility, and that is what transforms the world and our own lives.  It was humble, loving, obedience that was asked of Adam and Eve, and they failed, and it was through humble, loving, obedience that Christ came into the world and then saved the world.  We are called to that same perfection, that same awesome vocation, that same fired-up, passionate, sanctity, that same completely self-giving humility, absolute abandonment to love, and filial obedience that we see in the saints (always modeled on Christ Himself) and we, like them, are given the specific graces needed in our lives, our situations, our vocations, to live up to that.  

Don't be discouraged by great examples of holiness: Fall down? Get back up.  Feel weak? Give that to the Lord.  Think you can't change the world?  Take a glance at the coal miner oppressed under the soviet regime (Karol Wojtyla), or the seminarian who couldn't understand theological terminology (John Vianney), or the tiny sister from Albania who is shocked at the poverty of Calcutta (Sr. Theresa).  These individuals didn't expect to change the world, but they were willing to let God do that through them, and so He did.  He wants to do the same through you!

Adoration at St. Florian's
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God Wants to Transform Every Evil with His Love

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!)
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Christology - The Facts Lead us to a Relationship with Christ!

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!
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Advent - Letting God Come to Us

Welcome to Advent (a couple of weeks late)!  Here at the NAC we just had our annual Christmas party (basically, a fun meal - accompanied by the 3rd year guys providing music and cookies followed by a free-night in the lounge - think ice-cream, beer, and some of the guys composing a band, all surrounded by the completion of all the Christmas decorations around the NAC - think lights, and snowmen, and banners, and guys-dressed-up-as-elves all over the place).  However, despite all these festivities, and entering the last week of classes before break, and seeing lights and trees going up all over the eternal city, we are still in Advent, and that is a good thing! 

Here's why:  Advent is meant to be a time when we get prepared for the coming of Christ.  Obvious right?  Well, St. Bernard reminds us that this isn't as obvious, or as easy, as we'd think. 
"there are three comings of the Lord.  The third lies between the other two.  It is invisible, while the other two are visible.  In the first coming he was seen on earth, dwelling among men; he himself testifies that they saw him and hated him.  In the final coming all flesh will see the salvation of our God, and they will look on him whom they pierced.  The intermediate coming is a hidden one; in it only the elect see the Lord within their own selves, and they are saved.  In his first coming our Lord came in our flesh and in our weakness; in this middle coming he comes in spirit and in power; in the final coming he will be seen in glory and majesty." 
The Church divides the liturgy of Advent into two halves: the first 2 or so weeks of Advent emphasizing, in the readings at Mass and Liturgy of the Hours, the second coming of Christ (at the end of time, to judge the world) and the last 2 weeks of Advent emphasize the first coming of Christ (in the Incarnation, to save the world).  However, while these are incredibly important things to meditate on - God becoming man, yep, pretty world-changing; the end of the universe, again, pretty big deal - often in celebrating Christ's coming 2000 years ago, or getting excited about His coming in the future, we forget that He wants to enter our hearts and lives every day, right now.  Bernard continues:
"Listen to what our Lord himself says: If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him. There is another passage of Scripture which reads: He who fears God will do good, but something further has been said about the one who loves, that is, that he will keep God's word.  Where is God's word to be kept?  Obviously in the heart, as the prophet says: I have hidden your words in my heart, so that I may not sin against you.  Keep God's word in this way.  Let it enter into your very being, let it take possession of your desires and your whole way of life ... If you keep the word of God in this way, it will also keep you.  The Son with the Father will come to you." 
So, our goal this Advent has to be to truly prepare ourselves for Christ's coming - not only by considering the Incarnation, recognizing the incredible love that Jesus humbly shows us at Bethlehem, and not only in making sure we'll be ready when Christ comes in glory - but even more immediately, in being ready for Him to enter our hearts now, at this moment, in the Eucharist, in the Scriptures, in those we meet. 
I was listening to a homily by Fr. Michael Schmitz and he recounted how he had been struck by a quote which read something like "do I desire to love God as much as He can be loved?"  That's a question that we all need to ask ourselves (and I've been asking myself these last few weeks).  Do I desire, do I strive, do I pray, to have the grace, strength, conversion-of-heart, fervor, and everything else, to love God, as much as He can be loved.  The fact is that we are created to love God, and only in loving Him will we find true fulfillment.  No amount of Christmas cookies, the latest technological gizmo, going out to eat, watching movies, plush cars, honors, or even friends will fill our hearts because they have been created for something more, for something infinite, for someone (God) to fill.
Our Lady of Humility, Pray for Us!
However, here we can fall into another trap: trying to fill ourselves with God.  It's tempting to think that if we pray enough, or read enough theology, or kneel stoically enough, or fast arduously enough, that we will turn ourselves into saints and - boom - live happily ever after (with God dwelling within us).  The problem: praying, studying, kneeling, and fasting aren't any good if we're doing them out of our own pride (thinking ourselves better than others, or thinking that we're now deserving of God).  Sanctity, holiness, grace, divine-love, Christ dwelling within us - it's all a complete gift of God.  We can't deserve it; we can't earn it; we can't "steal" it.  We can only accept it.
I am a "doer", I'm that guy that thinks that if I fit in another holy hour, or pray that extra devotion, or read some extra book, or make another sacrifice, then I'm making myself a saint, but while all those things are great, they aren't the most important.  Martha was a doer, she was, I'm sure, running around making a delicious meal for Jesus, but Mary, who isn't doing anything, just sitting at Our Lord's feet, is the one who has chosen the "better part".  Samuel, in the Old Testament, gives us an example as well, responding to God, "speak, Lord, your servant is listening".  We, this Advent, need to have this mentality.  Before we start doing something, we need to  allow Christ to do the doing within us.  We can't fill ourselves with His love, only He can.  Certainly, we must be attentive, we must be listening, but - above all else - we must simply be open to God, and not filled with our own desires, plans, goals, or ideas.  St. Bernard has this in mind when he exhorts us to "let [God] take possession of your desires and your whole way of life".  Our job isn't  so much to go bulldozing through our life, making room for Christ, how we think we should, but instead we should simply surrender to His will, in each and every moment, and allow Him to make room within us for His love. 
Some days things don't happen the way we want them too - so many times I get to the end of the day and I think "gosh, I didn't get as much done as I wanted to today".  But this is my own idea of a productive day, God simply wants me to get to the end of the day and ask if I loved God as much as I could that day.  He doesn't ask for efficiency, but charity, not production, but love.  Blessed Mother Theresa was quoted saying "do little things with great love".  It's a quote we've all heard before, but do we follow it?  Are we willing to be so humble as to accept whatever God - in His providence - has planned for us today, and simply trust that He will give us the grace necessary to do it in the loving way that He wants.  Are we willing to surrender to such an extent that we allow Christ to come to us, and not try to force our way to Him? 

In His coming at Bethlehem Christ emphasizes humility.  In His middle coming into our heart - whether through sacrament, scripture, or neighbor - He also emphasizes humility.  Christ humbles Himself completely in order to come with us, are we willing to stoop low enough to enter that stable with Him - to leave behind our own ideas, plans, or whatever, and simply kneel there in His presence?  Are we willing to be like Joseph, silent before the Christ child, simply gazing upon God's incarnate love?  Are we willing to be like Mary, staying the night in a stable because nobody else cared?  Are we willing to round up our sheep, tossing out our own plans, like the shepherds, and tromp into Bethlehem to bow before our infant king?  Are we willing to pack up our treasures and sit on a camel for a month, to just catch a glimpse of Jesus?  All the figures we see didn't really do something to earn God's coming to them, they were just ready to obey when God announced it to them.  We too, during this advent, aren't so much called to do something, as we are called to willing do whatever God places before us. 
For me, that means studying Hebrew (one of my classes this semester) - not exactly my favorite past-time - is more important than doing something different where I think I will encounter God.  Praying the Office - even when I think it gets repetitive, or boring, or tiring - is a better prayer than whatever devotion resonates with me this week.  You get the picture, following God's plan is more important that following our own plan.  Why?  Because God can only enter the humble heart.  The heart filled with its own plans, ideas, or pseudo-holiness, doesn't have any room for God.  Advent isn't for replacing our old attachments with new, better, ones, it's for emptying our hearts of our own attachments completely and letting God fill us.  Back to the analogy of listening: we aren't supposed to start pumping new, better, music through our ears, but to stop filling our ears with any noise and just allow God to speak. 
Is this hard?  You better believe it!  Stepping back, accepting everything as an opportunity to follow God's will, listening, surrendering - all these things mean coming out of ourselves and dying to self.  You have no idea (ok, maybe some of you do) how hard it is for me to kneel there during a holy hour and not pick up a book to read.  I want to do something, I feel like I am so distracted when I'm just there, doing nothing, in the presence of God.  But God so often comes quietly, humbly, simply.  2000 years ago, God came - not as a mighty, world-conquering, evil-pulverizing, divine king - but as a child, a weak, helpless, approachable, little baby.  And, today, He enters our hearts in the same way - in silence, in stillness, tenderly knocking and asking if He can enter. 
Do you desire to love God as much as He can possibly be loved?  That's the question this post began with, and hopefully that is the question that it ends with.  Christ comes to bring us love, to unite us with God, to restore us to the original union He had planned for us since the beginning.  Advent is a time of preparation, not in the sense of packing up our stuff and asking God where He wants to send us, but in leaving our stuff behind and watching Our Lord, to follow the path He takes before us - the path of humility, love, and obedience.  May we pray, with Our Lady, that God's will be done, in us, according to His word - not expecting, or predicting, or presuming, what God wants us to do, but allowing His will to unfold before us and accepting whatever it might be with His gratitude, enthusiasm, joy, and love.  Not filling ourselves with our own love - whatever that might mean - but simply remaining open to God filling us with His love, and stretching us to hold more of His love, throughout every day.  Not doing something to try and bring Christ to us, but just being ready to receive Him when He comes.
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A Day in the Life at the NAC

About a year ago I wrote an entire week of posts, basically just describing what the day-to-day life of seminary involved at Brute.  Well, now I'm in Rome, at the NAC, and I figured that you guys might be interested in the day-to-day happenings here.  I've only been able to write a few posts so far unfortunately, and I found that I really wasn't speaking to much on what the usual life here is like - I either talked just about one little moment or like an entire month, neither of which really tells you what the typical day is all about.  So, without further ado, here's today:

So, this morning the alarm went off at 5 AM.  Unfortunately, I stayed up till midnight last night working on a paper that's due in my theology seminar tomorrow and skyping the family (a seven hour time differential wreaks havoc with communication), so I woke up pretty tired.  Nevertheless, after quickly shutting off the alarm, I creaked down from my bed (I have a loft, which is great, but it does shake a bit when I move around on it), and proceeded to try and wake myself up by doing this "seven minute workout".  It's an app that I found for my phone that times out thirty second intervals during which you do push-ups, jumping-jacks, crunches, lunges, or whatever.  So, seven minutes later I was breathing a bit harder, just about to start sweating, and very much awake.  I turned on a podcast - this one happened to be Fr. Fessio on Catholic Answers Live - and proceeded to get dressed (in clerics! - which is still pretty cool even after wearing them every day for a month or two), brush my teeth, shave, and do those other things that are necessary each morning.  10 minutes later the podcast was paused, I grabbed my breviary, a prayerbook, a notebook, and Scott Hahn's The Lamb's Supper, and rattled down the 6 flights of stairs to the chapel.  It was now about 5:30 and I spent the next 45 minutes doing the Office of Readings, meditating a bit on the readings for the day, reading a chapter on the Mass out of Scott Hahn's book, and just spending some quiet minutes preparing myself for Mass and offering up the entire day to God.  I was certainly tired, but not to such an extent that prayer was impossible, and there was something beautiful about just telling God that - despite everything - I was going to try and give Him my best today.  Nothing spectacular on my end, but a good start to the week nonetheless.

Morning Prayer began (in common) at 6:15, followed by Mass, and - I have to say - I wasn't struggling quite as much as I thought I would based on the amount of sleep I got last night.  I think the time change (which happened last weekend here in Rome) helped because it is now light when we come out of the chapel after Mass (which was a happy surprise this morning, but probably something that unconsciously was helping me stay awake).  One of the deacons (I hate to say it, but I didn't remember his name and I forgot to look it up) gave a very good homily on how Jesus intended to heal the woman on the Sabbath because He is the Logos, the Word made flesh, through Whom the world was first created, and His salvific mission is to bring God's creation back into right relationship with God.  Brokenness, sinfulness, hatefulness, sickness - and every other kind of evil - weren't there when God created the world - He created it good.  But through man's choosing themselves over God - in sin - evil enters the world, and the world becomes twisted, broken away from God.  Jesus enters to bring the world back to God (and radically bring God into the world).  He heals, not to disregard the Sabbath, but to bring mankind to true rest, apart from sin, in union with God.  And, of course, He invites us to that same rest, that same union, every day in Holy Communion!  

After a couple minutes of prayer following Mass I walked down the hall to the refectory for breakfast, which, this morning anyway, involved leftover cornetti (sweet croissants) from yesterday, hard boiled eggs, and some yogurt/cereal/plum concoction.  15 minutes later - after chatting with some guys while eating - I charged up the 6 flights of stairs to my room, spent about 10 minutes getting ready for class, and then grabbed a jacket (it was in the 50s this morning), headed back down the stairs, and out onto the streets of Rome.  Originally, I began my walk listening to another podcast (gotta spend every moment wisely!) and studying the Hebrew alphabet (not terribly easy to do simultaneously), but after about 10 minutes I ran into some other guys on the way to class and so we spent the rest of the 30 minute walk talking about Rome, classes, plans for the rest of the day, and other such things.  It's funny how quickly I got used to walking over to class - it's crazy to think that I get to walk past the Piazza Navona, Santa Maria sopra Minerva, and the Pantheon every day on my way to class!  Fun times!

I arrived at the Greg. (Pontifical Gregorian University - if you want the full name) at about 8:20, with just enough time to head up the 2 flights of stairs, get settled into my desk, and log into the wifi before class began.  Classes are all in Italian - which, today as always, was a struggle.  We had two hours of Pentateuch and then 2 hours of Church History, both divided into two 45 minutes periods with a 15 minute break in between.  I am always very glad when the raucous bell goes off (it really does make a racket) and we get the break because it offers me a chance to clear my mind, stretch a bit, pray a bit (there is a very nice chapel up on the 3rd floor), or otherwise relax a bit - a very necessary thing to do because after 45 minutes of struggling mightily to translate what the professor is saying and type it out, my brain is usually pretty much fried and very ready to get distracted.  Classes have been getting better over the last 3 weeks, I guess I'm picking up new words and getting faster at translating, but I am very glad that guys better at Italian than myself are taking notes (that we then share) because otherwise, I'd be left with only about half of what we talk about in class.  Speaking of which, today we finished talking about the flood and began studying the tower of babel - and how God constantly tries to return man to His loving plan for creation, and away from mankind's tendencies to try to make himself God, and take the easy road to happiness, power, glory, or whatever.  In Church History we talked about the persecution of the early church - the writings of the Church Fathers at that time (St. Justin, St. Ignatius, St. John Chrysostom, etc.), other sources we have of that period (The Acts of the Martyrs, The Letter to Diagnetus, etc.), and the reasons behind the persecution and the phases it went through under different emperors.  That class, in particular, I'm going to have to rely on the notes because while there were PowerPoint slides (which are much easier to translate than simply an oral lecture), they each had about a thousand words on them - so it seemed - so I usually got about half-way through the slide before he flipped onto the next one...  Anyway, piano, piano (slowly, slowly).  In between the first and second period I took like a micro-nap (first time I've ever done that), which actually helped a ton with staying alert for the rest of the time, for the second break I spent some time in the chapel (again, dedicating the work of the day to Our Lord), and I think I just talked with some of the other students for the last break (there are probably about 80-100 students in the class, 20-something of which are from the NAC, and all the others are from other universities or orders around Rome, most of which don't have English as their first language, or Italian, so that can be a struggle at times as well - ah well, we keep trying!)

The walk back was beautiful!  It was just warm enough to not need the jacket, and it was just cool enough to not start sweating on the hike up the hill to the NAC (we're located on the Janiculum hill, one of the 7 hills of Rome).  As always, the streets are busy in places (mainly with people, we actually only have to worry about cars at a couple of intersections), and there are many people stuck in poverty who we always try to give at least a "bongiorno" and a smile.  I'm still getting used to both groups, and trying to constantly remember to be not only polite, but kind and loving - even if only for the moment.  It's one of those things, wearing the collar constantly reminds me of my call - especially as a seminarian - to live, and love, like Christ, which is a constant challenge, especially when you'd really rather just hurry back and get some lunch than stop and give somebody directions, or struggle to communicate your compassion to that homeless lady who always calls out to you as you walk past.  It's a real challenge, one that I didn't expect, and one that I need to constantly take to prayer!

Today, for the first time, I served at pranzo.  That basically means that instead of saying the Rosary like I usually do upon getting back (there's about 20 minutes between us getting back and pranzo), I instead headed into the refectory and started to set out jugs of water and bowls of salad on all the tables (36 tables, 2 jugs each, and the water-machines are pretty slow - it takes a while even with a couple guys working on it).  Then, after about 10 minutes we started carrying back salad plates and carrying out trays of pasta (today was noodles with a creamy red sauce and little flakes of ham - really good but I have no idea what it was called).  20 minutes later, the process repeated, this time carrying back the plate used for pasta and bringing out the secundo (today it was roast beef of some sort with tomato sauce along with peas).  And, a couple minutes after that it was time to carry out bowls of fruit (the dessert for today) and continue to clear plates and stuff.  I would have thought there would be down time, but there wasn't.  I was constantly on the move, going to fetch more food, or cheese, or water, or trying not to drop a stack of plates and silverware (always a balancing act).   Either way, at 2, everybody finishes up, the waiters sit down at their own table, and then we get to eat our own pranzo (same as everybody else's, but we just wolfed it down, and headed off to get things done that afternoon).  It was a fun first time - not hard, not easy, not bad - yeah, actually kind of fun!

I spent the next two hours in the library, working on the process of note-redacting.  Basically, because I'm not one of the chosen note-takers, I have the other job of taking the notes from three different guys for one of our classes (Introduction to Scripture) and combing them all.  The goal is to then have a pretty complete set of notes for the class which everybody can then use to fill in the gaps in their own knowledge.  I thought the process would be easy - boy, was I wrong.  It was such a challenge to look at the 3 or 4 different sets of notes, figure out when they are talking about the same thing, and then combine them in such a way that you lose nothing of any of their meanings but don't repeat anything at the same time.  It was way more of a challenge than I anticipated, and it took all two hours I had open in the afternoon (which I was hoping it wouldn't).  Anyway, such is the way it worked out - I'll have to find more time in the future to do it - but for today, I didn't have any more time!  After struggling to get the computer to save (the network wasn't working quite right) I raced out of the library, down to the St. John Paul II class-room (we don't usually have classes here at the NAC, but they do have some rooms for the occasional lecture or something I suppose), where I attended a meeting of the Legion of Mary.  

I was in the active Legion back at home, before seminary, so the meeting itself wasn't new, but I wanted to check it out as a possible apostolate for next semester because their work sounds really, really cool.  Basically, next semester I'll have an apostolate - which could be helping at a nursing home, working at a soup kitchen, visiting a prison, leading tours of St. Peter's, or - another option - doing evangelization in St. Peter's square for the Legion of Mary.  It sounds really fun actually - standing out there, meeting and greeting tourists who come there and answering any questions they have about the basilica, the Church, Christ, His saints, or any of the other innumerable questions that come up when you visit Rome.  It's an easy opportunity to lead people to grow deeper in their faith (or understand the importance of faith), and I will probably put it as one of the apostolates that I'd like to do.  We'll see, I'll be actually trying out the work in the square on Wednesday, so I guess I'll have to wait till then to be sure.

Anyway - running from one thing to the next - I charged back up the 7 flights of stairs to my room (I was in the basement), grabbed my Breviary, the Bible, Benedict XVI's Jesus of Nazareth, and the Magnificat and headed back down to the chapel for an hour of Eucharistic Adoration.  I got there just in time for it to start at 5:45 and spent the first bit of time just quietly adoring Our Lord, and then meditating on the readings for tomorrow and the psalms for mid-day prayer.  It was tough to strike the balance between quieting my mind and not falling asleep, but I did fairly well today!  I read the chapter on the Kingdom of God today from Ratzinger's book, which was absolutely beautiful.  He explained how the "Kingdom of God" isn't just a individual relationship with Christ, and it isn't just the Church, and it isn't some sort of earthly kingdom which holds Christian principles or something - rather, the "Kingdom of God" is Christ Himself.  Yes, present within us, and His Church, and throughout the world - but fundamentally, when Christ announces that the Kingdom of God is at hand, He is announcing Himself, living, incarnate, actual, moving, loving and desiring that we open ourselves up to Him and allow Him to reign over our hearts, our lives, our families, our decisions, our countries, and our world!  Something that Pope Benedict didn't mention, but I was graced with the thought a couple minutes later during Benediction, was that in the Our Father, Jesus tells us to pray "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven" - obviously indicating that we should strive to accept, to unite ourselves with, to do, God's will (that He may reign over our hearts - where He truly wants His Kingdom to come), but the very next line - drum-roll please - is "give us this day our daily bread".  Again, boom, it struck me of the incredibleness and importance of the Eucharist.  It is in this "daily bread", this supernatural bread, that Jesus gives us Himself.  Our "Amen" to receiving "the Body of Christ" is not only our statement of belief that this is "Christ the Son of the Living God", but also that we are willing to unite ourselves with Him so closely that He can enter our very hearts and souls.  With our reception of Holy Communion, we let Christ reign over us, we surrender to His will for our lives, we let His kingdom come!  Yeah, that was a pretty awesome moment! 

After doing Evening Prayer as a community, and saying another quick little prayer of dedication and thanksgiving, everybody headed off to the refectory for dinner.  I chose (it is buffet style) to have a little bit of pasta (shells with a cream sauce), some slices of turkey in gravy, a salad, and a banana with peanut butter (we rarely have bananas here, at least right now, so it was a treat!).  Again, nothing outrageously amazing, but it was all good, and hot, and there were good conversations to be had, and there was a banana!  

Alright, the day's almost complete!  After dinner I ran back up to my room, spent a bit of time on writing this post, worked for a couple minutes on Hebrew (I need to spend so much more time on that), and then went down and caught the last 30 minutes of a praise-and-worship hour that happens here once a week.  I had rarely done that sort of things before this semester, but there is something beautiful about that way of singing and praising God - I guess I didn't expect to like it, but in the right context it is beautiful, powerful, and prayerful!  Then, continuing to run to the next thing, I watched one episode of Agents of Shield, a TV series based off of the Marvel comic strips and films.  It's actually quite a good show - without too much language or other kinds of vices, but showing a decent amount of action and some seriously difficult moral decisions (which they don't always make the right choice).  You know, a couple super-hero's, good guys fighting bad guys, it's fun!

And now, I'm finally finishing this post, getting ready to post it and hit the sack (currently, I'll be getting 5 hours and 56 minutes of sleep tonight... - not enough, but it'll have to do).  It was a long day, I literally didn't have more than a couple minutes anywhere when I wasn't doing something or onto the next thing, but - as always - God provides and "tomorrow will worry about itself".  I recall hearing of a priest saying that he wanted to be tired each evening - spending himself for God and his flock - and I was inspired by it!  Don't we all want to really give our lives for something that's worth it!  But, I was kind of assuming that he woke up every morning having gotten 8 hours of sleep, with the sun shining, and a game-plan of what amazing things he was going to do that day.  Apparently, yeah, God is asking me to give myself - day-in-day-out - to Him, but that means being tired when you go to bed, and when you wake up!  Hmmm...  Something about picking up one's cross comes to mind - I guess I should have expected a bit of tiredness, frustration, business, and the daily grind.  Ah well, again, God will provide - it's an amazing life, if busy, and I'm loving every minute, even if exhausted!
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