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Category Archives: Discernment

A Call to Sacramental Ministry

18 Jul

As I’ve mentioned before, my discernment process has always been separated into two questions: 1) Do I feel called to be a Franciscan (or more appropriate now, what does it mean to be a Franciscan?) and 2) Do I feel called to sacramental ministry as a priest? Though they’re not mutually exclusive questions, discerning each question apart from one another helped me to focus on the significance of each question, and to accept the answer to each whenever I was ready to hear it.

Back at the end of March, I was apparently ready to hear an answer: I feel called to sacramental ministry, and wish to pursue ordination to the priesthood.

It’s hard to say what changed in my from one day to the next, from being unsure to being sure of a call.  For a very long time, I think I implicitly accepted that I would be ordained, always imagining myself in twenty years as having that aspect of my identity, but I never actually accepted the decision to be ordained in the first place.  In my mind, there was enough drawing me in that direction that I always saw it as an inevitability, but never an aspect of my life in the here and now.

That being said, there were clearly two triggers that turned my implicit decision into an explicit one.  The first was our habit fitting.  Trying on habits for the first time and looking at myself in the mirror had more of an effect on me than I thought it would.  I knew that it was little more than “dress up” for practical purposes, but there was still a gravity to it that is hard to explain.  Seeing myself in the habit and getting a sense of what it felt like to wear one marked a strong distinction in me between being a postulant, one who is inquiring and trying out the life, and a friar who has fully accepted the life.  It sounds weird, and is in a sense artificial given how similar our day-to-day lives are to professed friars, but that experience made everything seem much more real than it had been.  The “future” seemed much closer than before.

The following day, I was reading a book about the mass, the eucharist, and the role of the priest. In it, I came to this line:

In this oratio, the priest speaks with the I of the Lord– “This is my body,” “This is my blood.” He knows that he is not now speaking from his own resources but in virtue of the Sacrament that he has received, he has become the voice of someone else who is now speaking and acting.

I can’t say that this was a new revelation to me (I actually mentioned a similar sentiment back in August).  The idea of taking on the role of Jesus had always been both an inspiration and a deterrent for me in my discernment.  Nevertheless, these words struck a chord with me, helping me to develop a slightly more nuanced understanding of the role.  Whereas before I thought of “taking on the role of Jesus” in the sense that I had to live up to his magnitude and holiness, I now realized that it had much more to do with my willingness to let Jesus live through me and animate me in such a way to do his will.  I realized that I need not overwhelming merit or tangible holiness so as to be “holier than thou,” I need humility, openness, and a sense of servitude for all.  When I read this passage, I realized that, not only could I be called to sacramental ministry, I was called to it, and that I wanted very deeply to allow Jesus to work through me in that capacity.

 
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Posted by on July 18, 2012 in Announcement, Discernment

 

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I Think It’s Time We Took A Break

12 May

Walking away for a little while helps us know we were in the right place all along.

With part one of the postulant year coming to a close, it’s time for another Vocation Vacation. Like our break at Christmas, we’ve been encouraged to break ourselves from the routine of the religious life so as to discern its effect on us (and us on it) over the past nine months. It’s a helpful reminder that we still haven’t formally committed to anything about the Order, and so are not bound by any vows in this process. Essentially, stepping away may be the best way to take a step closer. (This is not to say that we’re free from the Ten Commandments while we’re gone, but you know what I mean.)

The challenge of this break will no doubt be its length. Five weeks is quite a long time. With no money, less contacts than before, and a limited amount of responsibility, there is plenty of room to get bored. As our director told us in our last meeting, however, this is actually part of the design: with so much time and probably very little to do, it’s inevitable that we’ll begin reflecting on the year and hopefully realize how much religious life has come to mean to us.

As for me, I have little evidence to believe my director to be wrong. I will be spending one week traveling around visiting friends from college, during which I’ll be attending a Dave Matthews concert, but other than that I have four weeks without plans. I’m looking forward  to spending a lot of time with my family, possibly getting to the beach for a few days, and just relaxing without any stress or responsibility. As it will be the last time home before I’m a simply professed friar (occurs in 15 months at the end of novitiate), there are also a number of practical things I have to take care of, such as putting my finances in my parents name, getting rid of a few superfluous possessions, and taking visits to the doctor and dentist while I’m still covered under my parents insurance plan.

All in all, I’m looking forward to the time to catch up, reflect, recharge, and dream for a life to come as a friar. If I find the time, there are a few topics on which I’ve been meaning to post, so look for a few sporadic posts over the coming weeks. Otherwise, pray that I have safe travels and check back in June for the next step in the life of a friar in training!

 
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Posted by on May 12, 2012 in Announcement, Discernment

 

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A Life to Share

14 Apr

Celibacy can be a bit of a deal breaker. Ask any young Catholic man or woman, active in their faith, why they are not considering some form of consecrated life, and I can almost guarantee that celibacy is one of the reasons. “I really want to get married,” you might hear. From my own experience, this was the largest hurtle to jump.

But despite what many may think, including even those going through the discernment process, I don’t believe that the problem is abstinence from sex (at least not entirely). Believe it or not, there are still many young people in this world who have not discarded chastity for the loose sexuality embraced by popular culture. (It’s not what you hear on t.v. or see in the movies, but it’s still out there, trust me!) And yet, of those who have held on to or readopted this unpopular virtue, there is an even smaller minority of people wishing to do so in the form of consecrated life. Why is this?

The reason has everything to do with intimacy, or rather, the perceived lack of intimacy in religious life. When I look back to the time when I used “I really wanted to get married” as an excuse, I believe what I was really saying was, “I really want someone to share my life with.” For much of my life, I saw marriage as the only way to do this. When I looked at the priests and religious I knew (which was only a few), all I saw were people growing in age, living alone, and frankly, looking either miserable or lonely. From this narrow experience I concluded that it must take the type of holy person that is willing to sacrifice any chance of intimacy for the sake of a worthwhile ministry, and I knew that I was not that holy person.

The first step in my transformative move toward religious life was a painful, yet inevitable one: I matured. As I grew older and developed emotionally, I began to form relationships that were much more meaningful than being “just friends” while being wholly different from my romantic partners. I had begun to realize that intimacy was much more than just romance. For an adult, this is painstakingly obvious. But for me, the realization that I could be fulfilled and sustained emotionally, spiritually, intellectually, and even physically (in a different way of course) from something other than an exclusive, romantic relationship, meant that I didn’t need to get married to have all of my needs met. It was not until this realization did the prospect of entering religious life even deserve my attention.

At some point, however, it did, and I was forced on an excruciating journey of heart and soul that tore me into pieces for many months.  Can I do that sort of work? What about my girlfriend? Do I want children? Which community? Have I lived enough to know? Little by little I grew more comfortable with idea, developed a fondess for St. Francis and became to accept almost every aspect of Franciscan life. I could do that.

There remained one final question: were these specific guys, the members of the Franciscan Friars of the Holy Name Province, guys that I wanted to share my life with? It’s one thing to understand and to like the idea of fraternity in the way St. Francis instituted it, but another thing entirely to live it with actual people. I was convinced that religious life could fulfill me in the way I sought. But would it?

The long and short of it is a resounding yes. As I’ve come to know many of the men in this province over the past five years, I have felt a distinct growth in many of them from mere acquaintances, to familiar friends, to something potentially much more. While I’m growing to understand each member as a brother owed my unconditional love and respect, I have nonetheless grown close to a few in a very spectacular way. I find myself catching glimpses of an intimacy with my brothers that is to come, fulfilling and sustaining me for whatever lies in the road ahead.

It may be true that I will never be fulfilled in such a physical way that a wife could provide: I am never going to have sex. Frankly, I’ll survive without it. But when I begin to look at celibacy through the lens I’ve described above, the abstinence from sex no longer appears to me as a restriction to be followed or a sacrifice to be endured; rather, it is the freedom, and the call to love more broadly than would ever be possible while vowed to just one person. I know that I feel called to this life, and that it is a life to share.

 
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Posted by on April 14, 2012 in Discernment, Fraternity

 

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What If I Fall In Love?

28 Jan

The question isn't a matter of what to do "if" I fall in love, but rather "when" I do.

“So, what if you take solemn vows in a few years, and after that, you meet a girl that knocks you off your feet and you fall totally in love? What do you do then? Are you allowed to leave?”

In the six months that I’ve been a postulant, and the two years I discerned religious life prior to entering, I heard this question too many times. Honestly, it’s a truly despicable question. I find it to be very indicative of the culture from which it comes: one that is afraid of commitment and is obviously skeptical of celibate chastity, whether it’s implicitly or explicitly realized.

For starters, it implicitly treats the choice to enter religious life as a “Plan B”. If there is a possibility that someone would leave religious life for marriage (which there has to be in the mind of the questioner otherwise it would have never been asked), it means that God is not ultimately the first choice; religious life was an option chosen in the absence of one’s “soul mate,” but if and when that person is found there is a new best option. In a surprisingly high number of cases, people who ask this question assume that the only reason people enter religious life is because they are either assexual or were incapable of forming and maintaining an intimate relationship with another.

The truth is, a large number of healthy men and women in religious orders have had experience in love, (and yes, even sex), before entering and taking vows. In my own life before I decided to enter, I had experienced 2 two-year long relationships with women that I loved enough to marry and was fully aware of the prospect of finding another. My choice to be a part of religious life was not without other options, nor will it be without new options in the future. (Many will tell you it’s not a matter of what to do “if” you fall in love, but rather “when.”) Like all healthy religious, however, I discerned that my life would be more greatly fulfilled in celibate chastity than in marriage, and so it was my “Plan A” to seek God in this way.

I imagine that God is insulted by this question for the same reason: is it not possible that someone could see a life fully devoted to God as the best option, an option greater than even the man/woman of one’s dreams? Not only do I know that this is entirely possible, I feel very strongly that God has called me and others to this life, and that it is just as much his choice as it is ours. When I’m asked about leaving after solemn profession for the sake of “love,” I get the sense that the asker either refuses to believe or is unable to understand that one can want a relationship with God in the form of a celibate chastity more than an exclusive relationship with another person.

The final, and most disappointing part of this question is that it completely disregards the gravity and sanctity of a covenant with God. Does solemn profession mean so little that one would be curious enough to ask whether or not a religious is willing to break it? I imagine that these same people wouldn’t ask an engaged man, “So what happens if after you’re married you meet a woman that knocks you off your feet and you fall totally in love? What do you do? Are you allowed to leave?” It’s an incredibly insulting question. Why doesn’t it sound as insulting when someone asks it about a commitment to religious life? Again, I think the person that asks this question implicitly values a commitment to God and an ascetic life less than a commitment to another person.

If you’ve asked this question before your life, I forgive you. I imagine that the implications of the question were not quite realized at the time, and had you known, you would have never asked it. For others, I hope that it is just as appalling to you as it is to me, and you will help to create a culture that views a solemn commitment to God as an extraordinarily fulfilling way of life.

At this point, I’m a long way to away from professing any sort of formal vows, and so am quite free to leave whenever I wish. At the same time, I have placed the prospect of marriage on hold for a while as to enter into an intimate, exclusive relationship with God, discerning a lifelong commitment by essentially “dating God” (a term Dan Horan, OFM has famously used.) If and when that day comes when I’m ready for solemn profession, and someone very unfortunately asks me what I would do if I fall in love, I’ll have the perfect answer for them: “I already have.”

 
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Posted by on January 28, 2012 in Discernment

 

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Having My Habit, and Wearing it Too!

13 Jan

At this point, wearing a habit is just a dream.

Some will say that the habit should be worn at all times, even within the confines of one’s own house. Focusing mostly on the effect that the habit has on the one wearing it, they argue that the habit’s primary function is to remind the professed religious of their inward commitment: just as one puts on the habit in the morning, so too are they putting on a way of life. No matter what one does or where one goes throughout the day, they will be reminded of their commitment. This is a very powerful sign to oneself. Ordinary secular clothes lack the separation from one’s old way of life to capture the gravity of a vowed life.

In public, the habit serves as an easily recognizable sign to the others of a religious person. One sister asked me once, “If a mailcarrier wears a uniform, why shouldn’t we?” In a similar way that a mailcarrier’s uniform separates ordinary people from mailcarriers, so too does the habit separate ordinary people from religious. This separation offers a protective barrier from the secular world by drawing clearly distinguished lines between appropriate and inappropriate behavior. The presence of the habit in ordinary situations offers a sense of comfort, purity, and Godliness to those around it that cannot be captured by simply wearing normal clothes. There is a “holiness” that cannot be ignored.

It is this very reason why many others have chosen not to wear it at all: the habit creates too much separation. Some religious claim that the habit inhibits their ability to engage in meaningful, mutual relationships with those they serve because it brings with it not just comfort, purity, and Godliness, but also power, authority, and for some, an expectation of false piety. When someone sees a religious in a habit, like it or not, consciously or subconsciously, one’s behavior will be effected; regardless of whether it is for better or worse, people act differently around “brother” X than they would if they had just met X on the street. Many religious find this very troubling, and believe that it is almost impossibile to lead with someone under these circumstances. In this way, some religious focus more on the effect the habit has on it’s beholder than effect it has on its wearer.

To accomodate the beholder, thus, some religious have chosen to blend in. Adopting simply clothing, they resemble the very people they serve. This, they say, is the true essence of the original habit; now that it is a sign of prominent status, it must be removed and replaced with something lowly and cheap. By dressing in a more comfortable way, any sort of stigma of being a professed religious is absent from their interactions. They are no longer above others leading down, but instead among others leading together. Those who have adopted this approach tell me that the greatest compliment they receive is, “Oh! I didn’t even know you were a brother/sister,” because it means that their status as a religious brother or sister had no effect on their ability to serve.

With that being said, there’s a pretty obvious million dollar question about to be asked: How do I feel about the habit? Do I see it as a part of the identity of a friar and wish to wear it as my default attire? Or, do I wish to live by the spirit of the habit, wearing poor clothes in solidarity with those I will serve?

Can’t I have my cake and eat it too? I want to have my habit and wear it too! What do I mean by this? I mean that the question itself is flawed because it should not be an either/or situation; the most complete way that I find to view the habit at this point in my formation needs to include sentiments from both perspectives.

For example, I think that the habit is a needed outward sign of inner “habit” that has changed, as well as a being wonderful expression to the secular world, but that sometimes sign value is less important than being in solidarity with the poor and even impractical (or detrimental) when doing extensive manual labor; I believe that it’s important for the uplifting of the laity to blend in and lead as equals rather than create visual separations, while at the same time realizing that the world needs to see good examples of religious in the world, and that no one will ever walk up to us and ask us to pray for them if they can’t find us.

In short, I like the habit, but I don’t plan on wearing it every minute of every day. Will I wear it more than I don’t? Probably. Will I wear it to the bank, grocery store, or movie theatre? I’m not sure, but I do think there is a need for the world to see a habited religious in normal, secular places. I understand the desire to lead as equals and the sentiment of not drawing too much attention to oneself, but a the same time, if we only wear our habits to church how will we ever be able to evangelize to those who have never heard the Word or know what a Franciscan is?

As it stands now, I won’t receive a habit for another eleven months. A lot could change between now and then. A lot could change when I put it on for the first time. A lot could change the first time I’m out in public and realize that everyone is staring at me. All I can say right now is what I’ve seen so far. Until then, I’m going to dream about having my habit and wearing it too!

 
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Posted by on January 13, 2012 in Discernment

 

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Keeping Holy the Sabbath

05 Jan

Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.
Six days you shall labor, and do all your work;
but the seventh day is a sabbath to the LORD your God;
in it you shall not do any work, you, or your son,
or your daughter, your manservant,
or your maidservant or your cattle,
or the sojourner who is within your gates;
for in six days the LORD made heaven and earth,
the sea, and all that is in them,
and rested the seventh day;
therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and hallowed it.

Exodus 20:8-11

The idea of the Sabbath day is a familiar one: Jews and Christians alike, though varied in day and practice depending on the specific faith tradition, are called to observe a day of rest and reflection. For many, it is a day away from the busyness of daily life and work and a time for spiritual renewal through community worship and personal reflection.

What happens, then, in the life of a professed religious? The “busyness of daily life and work” IS the Sabbath day; though no doubt spiritually satisfying, it is nonetheless a day of great work. Is it considered “keeping the Sabbath” to spend one’s whole day working, albeit at church? If not, does one simply skip this requirement and go back to work Monday? These are important questions for which the Order doesn’t have strict answers.

At this point in my formation, I find keeping the Sabbath to be critical to the life of a friar, though I recognize that making it once a week, no more or less, is a bit arbitrary. In my time with the friars, both in discernment and now in the Postulancy, I have witnessed great examples of what it means to keep the Sabbath, as well as some examples that leave something to be desired. Each method characterized below has its obvious positive and negative aspects, but offer a unique and fruitful perspective to religious life. Because they’re not mutually exclusive ideas, I see the best solution at this point to be a combination of the three, mixing and matching based on the situation of each friar’s ministry.

Make a different day the Sabbath. There’s really no good reason that the Sabbath has to be Sunday; the bible simply dictates that it should be observed, not when it should be (Since the early church saw Christianity as a movement within Judaism, they observed the Jewish Sabbath on Saturday, and began celebrating the Eucharist on Sunday. Eventually the Saturday part was dropped.) Because of this, a good number of friars will choose a regular day of the week, usually Monday, as their “off” day, to relax and spend time in prayer. In a similar vein, friars at the St. Francis Inn (Philadelphia) take off one day a week for leisure and rest, as well as one day specifically set aside for prayer and reflection. The former allows for more work to get done while the latter doesn’t make the friar choose between leisure and prayer each week.

Cut the day in thirds. Probably as common as an alternative day off, a number of friars have told me that they cut the day into three shifts, (8-12, 12-5, and 5-10) and require themselves to rest during one of them. This method guarantees time for prayer and reduces the risk of burning oneself out, while still allows them to be “always available” if needed. The upside to this method is that everyday, in a sense, can be a partial Sabbath day, allowing an opportunity to remove oneself in the midst of great stress to be with God; the downside is that one is never “off the clock” mentally, and it can be very easy to slip back into work mode during prayer/relaxation time.

Fill up only when empty. The last method is probably the least desired but not uncommon in our province. Rather than taking a specified time or day off each week, some friars choose to work as needed, taking short breaks for prayer and rest sporadically throughout the day, going long periods of time without a “formal” break. When they feel like they’ve worked to the point of exhaustion they will take a short leave, usually in the form of a week long vacation or retreat. Healthy friars are able to see work as an additional form of prayer and remain spiritually nourished, though physically exhausted; unhealthy men begin to see work as a replacement for prayer, and will eventually find themselves not only physically exhausted, but spiritually as well.

 
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Posted by on January 5, 2012 in Discernment, Prayer

 

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We’re Baaaaack….

03 Jan

After nearly 12 days in North Carolina with my family, I find myself back in the familiar (and very cold) confines of Wilmington, Delaware, refreshed and ready for another fives months of whatever the Postulancy has to offer. While at home, I spent most of the mornings/afternoons relaxed on the couch, either in front of the t.v. watching mediocre college football games or re-runs of my favorite show, 30 Rock, or catching up on a little reading and journaling. The highlight of the break was definitely the time I got to spend with my whole family playing games such as Monopoly, Spades, Cranium, and Yatzee, winning all of them of course (except for the ones I lost).

Besides relaxation and fellowship, I had also mentioned before that this would be a great time for reflection and discernment as it would most definitely bring to light the differences between the life I once had and the life I’ve recently adopted. In this way, the break did not disappoint. Though I didn’t come to any earth-changing realizations, I left my house yesterday reconfirmed in my decision to join the friars and actually a bit excited to return to Wilmington (a truly preposterous statement if you’ve ever lived a block from I-95 in Wilmington!) Here are a few of the things that I came to realize that probably influenced these sentiments:

Community prayer is important to me. In the five months since I moved to Delaware, I think I missed Morning prayer, Evening prayer, and Mass a total of ten times, all but one of those times due to traveling constraints. Praying multiple times a day in community became sort of second nature to me, a “habit” if you will. It wasn’t until I went home and forced myself to restrain from praying the Office or going to daily mass that I realized, however, that it was much more than just a programmed behavior: community prayer is a critical part of my spiritual life. Sure, I went to Mass on Sunday, and I prayed frequently over break, but I knew that something was missing.

The friars have subtly become my “other” family. For all in my immediate and extended family reading this, don’t think that I’m in any way saying that there has been a replacement of feelings from you to them! Those in my family will always have that special relationship. But having lived together now for five months, praying, learning, traveling, and working with each other, it’s hard not to see that new, intimate relationships have begun to form. I found myself on break thinking, “I miss those guys,” and “I’m excited to go back and see everyone,” in a way that somewhat resembles, but feels ultimately different than the feeling I had upon returning to college each year. It took a little time away for me to realize that these guys had subtly become my brothers.

For now, I think I’ll leave it at that. I spent some time reflecting on a few other unrelated things, but in the interest of space and organization, I’ll leave those topics for another day. Our next adventure begins Thursday afternoon when we travel down to Maryland for the Formation Intercession, a meeting of all the Holy Name Province students. It should be a great opportunity to look ahead in the formation process and hear from those in years two through five about their experiences along the way.

As a last note, thanks to all those I saw over break that shared such reaffirming words about the blog. I try not to get caught up in the comments or page statistics, but it is nice to hear that it’s more than just a tool to organize my thoughts. Thank you for all of your support along the way!

 
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Posted by on January 3, 2012 in Discernment, Formation, Prayer

 

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Vocation Vacation

21 Dec

Vocation Vacation? Not what I had in mind…

Starting tomorrow, the other four postulants and I will be free to leave for Christmas break, spending the next ten days however we please, wherever it pleases us. Personally, I’ll be on my way to the airport en route for my family’s house in North Carolina where I will spend most of my time relaxing and catching up with friends and family.

There’s no doubt that this is a very typical situation for most people: many people my age (including myself for the last four years) visit home for the holidays and spend the whole time relaxing and socializing. It is a familiar, comfortable place where we fall back into old habits and remember the person we once were. Surely, this is the farthest place from discernment one can be, right? Our postulant director sees it quite differently. Here’s a section of the letter he gave us yesterday:

I have insisted that this break is important and argued for your going home (or as close as I could get you to your home). The break is only a little more than a week, not long at all. During that time I’d suggest you take your breviary and pray the Office as you find comfortable. Do the same with daily mass; don’t feel that you have to go other than on Sunday but go as you like. Do not visit friars or friaries, your break is to get away from friars and friaries (and celebrate holiday time with your family). If you do not distance yourself you cannot get a clear picture of things. Talk with your family members and friends about the choice you’ve made and the vocation you feel called to. Test it against them. Ask if they notice any change in you. Notice any changes in them or your former environment.

This break is as important as any retreat you will take; it is a time for discernment.

Oddly enough, approaching the once familiar and comfortable might be the best bit of discernment I’ll have this entire year. By distancing myself from religious life, breaking out of the new habits I’ve formed and back into the old ones, I’ll have the opportunity to test the new against the old. Will the old habits fit too well to be shaken? Will I remember the life I once had and seek to live it again?

Or will I begin to feel as Francis did, as written in The Legend of the Three Companions: ”What before seemed delightful and sweet will be unbearable and bitter; and what before made you shudder will offer you great sweetness and enormous delight.”

There’s no doubt that there is a different feel to this trip home than there was in the previous four years; something feels different. Maybe I’m different. Time to relax and reflect will certainly tell. One thing I do know for sure, however, is that I have been looking forward to seeing my family and being home for a while now, and I’m very excited to see them later today! Wish me luck on my Vocation Vacation!

No does that mean a vacation for my vocation, or from it…?

 
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Posted by on December 21, 2011 in Discernment, Prayer

 

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Yes, But Under My Conditions

18 Dec

Am I trying to fool God or myself with the fine print?

As I continue to discern whether God is calling me to be ordained or not, I have come up with an analogy that describes my current disposition: I am like a potential parent that says, “I want to have a child… but only if it’s a boy.”

Like the would-be parent who is comfortable with the possibility of having a catch with his son or teaching him how to ride a bike, I have taken the big step forward over the past two years in acknowledging that there are some aspects of “being a father” that are appealing enough to me to take on the new role. Back in August, I mentioned that the sacrament of Reconciliation was one of these aspects. Besides that, I’m feel a strong calling to get involved in social justice activism (such as the ones run by our activist organization, JPIC), a ministry that needs the sacraments to remain fruitful. In this way, like the potential parent, I am very open to some of the roles a “father” might have to fulfill.

The problem with this sentiment is that it is not open to the all of the possibilities one may face. What if it’s a girl? Mentally handicapped? Doesn’t like baseball? Like the parent, there are aspects of ordination of which I am unwilling to accept at this point in my formation. What if I were assigned to an upper-middle class suburban parish so removed from poverty and hardship that it became difficult not to fall into complacency? Or, what if I were made pastor of a one-priest church, required to take on large amounts of administrative duties and left  tied down to one particular schedule and place? These are among the many hypothetical situations (along with a few theological issues that I won’t mention here) that leave me saying, “Yes, but under my conditions.”

Like a potential parent, I don’t think this is the proper disposition one can have to take on such a role. To be ordained is to say “yes” without condition, open and prepared for anything the kingdom of God needs here on earth. It means being a malleable instrument for which God can use whenever and however he pleases. To do so with conditions would be to misunderstand the role entirely; “yes, but under my conditions” is not really a “yes” at all.

As I move forward, this will be the focus of my discernment. Can I be open to all of the possibilities for which God will use me? I’ve certainly come a long way over the past few years in accepting new possibilities, and will just have to see how far that goes. I continue to thank you for all of your prayers in this process.

 
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Posted by on December 18, 2011 in Discernment

 

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The Charism of Preaching

20 Nov

Dennis and I hold a bible study every Wednesday.

While acting as Retreat Coordinator and Program Director for my Catholic Campus Ministry in college, I was able to recognize and develop a charism of speaking/preaching. Though difficult and uncomfortable at first, many years of practice helped me to develop confidence, and eventually find great joy in each experience. I can’t say that I’m ready to stand up and give a sermon everyday in front of a church full of people, but given my experience so far, it’s definitely charism that I would like discern for the future. As a postulant, I’ve been given two great opportunities to do just that.

The first opportunity is a shared bible study that Dennis and I run each week at our ministry site, the Little Sisters of the Poor, Jeanne Jugan Residence. Usually attended by about 15-20 residents, Dennis and I spend an hour reading and preaching about a number of passages related to an overall theme, trying to engage the residents in a discussion about their own experiences. So far we’ve looked at women in the bible, images of God, parables related to the kingdom of heaven, forgiveness and humility, and Christ the King.

Because of the laid-back nature of the bible study, we’ve enjoyed the chance to preach in an almost pressure-free atmosphere to see what it might be like at a larger venue. The consistency of a weekly bible study helps to simulate a weekly homily and to get in the habit of preparing beforehand with well written thoughts. On the other hand, it also gives us the opportunity to speak a bit more extemporaneously, honing in our ability to come up with fruitful responses with little preparation.

The second opportunity occurred yesterday when Ramon and I traveled down to Rehoboth Beach, DE, to help with a parish mission. Speaking to some of the 7th, 8th, and 9th graders in religious education, we were given an hour to share about our experience of Church at that age in order to promote a more active involvement. Our tandem speech had three parts, each beginning with participation from the students: 1) what is Church? 2) What can a middle schooler do to be a part of Church? and 3) What does it mean to be an adult in the Church?

Not unlike the bible studies with Dennis, this opportunity allowed us to speek in front of a small group of people on topic of which we are very passionate, gauging the responsiveness of the listeners and adapting our styles based on their questions and responses. But unlike the bible study, the parish mission required us to prepare a bit more beforehand, and to coordinate our speeches so as to present a common message. Having never given a partner speech such as this, it was certainly a challenging but fruitful experience in teamwork.

If for nothing else, these two experiences have (and will continue) to help me discern the charism of preaching in my own life. I realize that I’ve been given at least a mustard seed worth of this charism, and through practice and prayer will have to wait and see if it grows into a full-sized vocation. As a supplement to my discernment, I’ve also been reading a lot about St. Anthony of Padua: besides being great at finding things, he is noted as being one of the greatest preachers the Church has ever known, and a truly inspirational figure. Hopefully through his intercession I will be able to discern this charism a bit more fully and maybe even have a little bit of his ability rub off on me!

 
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Posted by on November 20, 2011 in Discernment

 

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