We’re all moved in and ready to let go of our old lives to live new ones as friars.

For one year, I will be without social communication such as Facebook, texting, this blog or anything that uses the internet. I will surrender the use of my bank account and credit card, and will live on a modest stipend of $50 a month giving any money I receive towards the needs of the house. I will not have almost no control over the way I spend my time, when I can leave, and where I can go. I will spend much of my time in quiet.

Believe it or not, this will be the most freeing year of my life.

For many, what I described above may seem like a prison, the complete antithesis of freedom. They see the rules and regulations as inhibitions on one’s own will, and therefore it is restrictive and potentially destructive. I see it differently. Rather than understanding freedom as the absence of external forces, i.e. freedom from a particular rule, I understand it as the presence of opportunity and ability to do what is right, i.e. freedom to fulfill a particular task.

What, then, do I have the freedom to do? More than any time in my life, I have the freedom to completely live in and for God. I have removed almost every “distraction” from my life, and have oriented my entire existence towards God. How could I be any more free? Seriously, what could I possibly worry about this entire year? I wake up in the morning, and my entire purpose is to grow closer in relationship with God by learning, devoting time, and listening. Community life ensures that I will be doing it in a Franciscan way.

I have to admit, though, I am a bit nervous about it all. This is entirely new to me in almost every way. No one likes change, especially when that change is as intense as this, and there are so many unknowns. But I guess that’s all a part of letting go; it’s not just about possessions and autonomy, it also has a lot to do with letting go of expectation that may prevent me from being completely open to the current experience. For now, we’re go with what I know.

Daily Life

Unlike last year, which was “Far From Routine,” this year will be very predictable and consistent. Being a “J” on the Myers Briggs test, I welcome this completely. Along with the prescribed activities of the day, I plan to add my own daily rituals. As I understand (and plan) it so far, here’s what a typical day looks like:

7:15    Lectio Divina (I’m going to make a habit of getting to chapel a few minutes before prayer each day to read a Gospel passage and pray about it. There’s a difference between reading the Bible academically and reading it prayerfully. As Franciscans, it’s imperative that we prayerfully read the Gospel.)
7:30     Morning Prayer
            Silent Meditation before Mass (For now, I think I’m going to leave this 10-15 minutes as quiet, unstructured prayer time. Too much planning doesn’t leave room for the Spirit to move me.)
8:00     Mass
8:45     Breakfast
9:30     Class (this will usually last two hours and will be on a variety of topics)
11:45   Midday Prayer/ ANGELUS (This only takes about ten minutes and is a wonderful break in the day to commit oneself to prayer. The Angelus is a very Franciscan prayer as well.)
12:00   Lunch (No structure, mostly foraging for food.)
1:00     Work period (We will each be given monthly jobs and expected to work 2 hours a day. Since some are easier than others, those who finish early begin to help those still working. I guess they believe that “Idle hands are the devil’s tools…)
4:00     Silent Time/Private Prayer (This can be spent a number of different ways, such as reading, studying, writing, reflecting, praying or journaling, but it must be done alone and in quiet. I think this will be a very refreshing part of the day.)
5:00     Common silent meditation in chapel (So far I’ve spent this time reading spiritual writings, but depending on what I do during the silent time/private prayer, I may use this time for more unstructured prayer or occasionally a devotional or the Office of Readings.)
5:30     Evening Prayer
6:00     Dinner
7:15     Recreation time (This can be spent however we please, such as working out, watching television, making phone calls, playing games, going for a walk, or listening to music, to name a few ideas. I don’t plan on watching a lot of television, and will instead be spending a lot of time either in our small fitness room with the many fitness-oriented friars in our house or playing games.)
9:15     Night Prayer, followed by Grand Silence (While we have no “bedtime,” the time after prayer is meant to be free from all noise, both personal and communal.)

Spiritual direction is on an appointment basis, but will probably take the place of a work period in the afternoon. On Saturdays we only have a work period in the morning, leaving us free from 1-9 to do as we please. Sundays are very solemn and relaxing, and will involve only prayer and quiet time. We’ve also been told that there will be retreats and workshops throughout the year, but with much less frequency than we did last year.

As of yet, I know little more than this. I wish I had more time to update everyone, but that will just have to wait until next year I guess.

Updates will be available

That being said, just because I can’t use the internet and tell you about my experience doesn’t mean that others won’t be doing it about me (and my classmates, of course). Here are a number of ways that you can continue to follow me in my journey outside of the blog:

Franciscan Interprovincial Novitiate Facebook page: Throughout the year, our house will post pictures, news updates, and maybe even a few reflections (we’ll see what I can do!) Unfortunately, you have to have Facebook to view it, but this will be the most updated media. I may or may not have been appointed photographer for this today.

HNP Today: Holy Name Province publishes a bi-weekly periodical about the happenings of the friars and their ministries. While we won’t be in every issue, this will offer the most detail when special occasions occur, such as when we receive our habits. You can subscribe to this by clicking here and entering your email address.

Be A Franciscan blog for vocations: The Vocations Office of our province runs a blog that publishes articles by our friars related to their vocational call and life in the Order. A few of my posts have found their way onto this website, and there’s a chance I’ll write for it once or twice while I’m here. It’s good to read either way.

And Finally, Thank You

This past year has been a wonderful experience writing this blog. I’ve enjoyed doing it, and cherish the comments I’ve received here and elsewhere. I will be praying for all of you, as I hope you will pray for me. I fully plan to relaunch the blog in a year, and will probably write a few reflections throughout the year to be posted when I get out. Until then, here are a few of my favorite posts that you could read again:

What Can’t I Live Without, Falling In Love, Why Do We Suffer? Pt. 1, 2, and 3, A Friendly Reminder, An Alternative Interpretation, Living In the Moment, What If I Fall In Love?, Mine!, This Moment Is Sufficient, A Life To Share, A Call to Sacramental Ministry, and Better to be Right or Together?

I’ve also updated the Shutterfly Photo website with pictures from Bonaventure and now here at Burlington.

And with that, it’s time that I say goodbye, and unplug myself from the internet. Thank you for following me on my journey. I will be back before you know it, but hopefully a very changed person.

Br. Casey Cole, OFM

Today’s the day. We packed our things, loaded the truck, and are ready to hit the road. TO WISCONSIN! (In case you’re not too familiar with the map of the United States, that’s an 826 mile drive ahead of us. Luckily we’re planning on spending the night about 2/3 of the way through.)

The trip itself offers us a very long, tangible transition from one year to the next, from Postulancy to Novitiate, from one lifestyle to another. When we arrive in Burlington, we will officially be received as friars in the Order. That’s right: Br. Casey Cole, OFM (but please, if “Casey” was good enough for God on the day of my baptism, it’s good enough for me. No “Brother Casey” nonsense from my friends and family!)

With the start of the year, it will also mean the temporary suspension of this blog. One of the central focuses of the year is to remove distractions so as to focus more intensely on God and community. I respect that. However useful it may be, the blog has created expectations of me that could be just enough pressure to lose focus, and that a year disconnected from the world, not worrying about what to say or whether or not people approve of my experiences, could be a very beneficial experience. Because of the short notice I’ve just received on this decision, I’ve been granted time to close it out upon arrival, and so I will post one last summary post sometime this week.

It’s tough to say goodbye, but saying goodbye just means saying hello to something different. I hope that you will keep me in your prayers, and check back in about a week for some concluding remarks.

Francis most likely prayed more than anything else throughout his life.

The friars have always been known for the great work they do. Through their direct assistance to the poor, world-renowned Franciscan scholarship, advocacy initiatives on the local and federal levels, thriving parishes and campus ministries, foreign missions, and rejuvenating contemplative centers, to name just a few, friars make a huge difference in the world.

For many, including myself at times, the Novitiate year ahead of me seems contrary to that notion of the friars. So let me get this straight. For an entire year, all you’re going to do is pray, study, clean and cook, and go on retreat? How can you justify not working for an entire year when there’s so much to be done in the world? Because our identity as Franciscans is so often linked to the work we do, the idea of not doing great work seems like a contradiction or a letdown of expectations. How is that Franciscan?

The truth is that being Franciscan has little to do with what one does, and everything to do with the way one lives. Francis did not set out to found an order with a particular task or expertise, no matter how useful it may be, he set out to live the Gospel as perfectly as he could, imitating Christ so as to grow closer to him. Sure, Francis swept and rebuilt churches, cleaned and fed lepers, and preached any chance he got. But for him, these were not ends in themselves as much as they were expressions of his commitment to a new life and identity, one that sought to be poor and humble, fraternal, and most of all, prayerful.

At first, I think it surprised me to find out how much Francis prayed. Given the fact that he observed each liturgical hour of the day, retreated to a cave at Mount La Verna, wrote his own Office of the Passion, and organized a Rule for Hermitages, there’s little chance that he did anything as much as he prayed. Seriously. Some friars even joke that Francis wouldn’t have earned a full month’s wage in his entire life because he was constantly running away to pray. Although this might be an exaggeration, there’s truth and inspiration in the way Francis lived: he was so in love with God and wished to always be closer to God than he was at any given moment.

This is the core of our life and charism. Prayer is our source of strength, inspiration, insight, wisdom, motivation, rejuvenation, and direction. Prayer is the very thing that makes effective ministry possible. Anyone can run a soup kitchen; teach at a university; hold a sign in front of the court house; be liked by parishioners and college students; go to a foreign country; offer quiet places. But without prayer, without a love for God and a desire to be closer to God as our starting point, what motivates us to engage in ministry at all? Altruism and a sense of the “greater good” only go so far. Prayer is at the core of any truly effective ministry.

Thus, the Novitiate year. Many have called it “Spiritual Boot Camp” and I have no reason to see it otherwise. The year will challenge and strengthen us spiritually so that we may lay a solid enough foundation for any experience we may face in life. One friar told me that it was a time in which he realized that Jesus alone was enough for him, that he needed nothing else in the whole world. This is the sort of foundation we as friars in training hope to lay.

Ultimately, yes, it’s going to be difficult to remove myself from the world and almost all forms of apostolic ministry for an entire year. There is a lot I could be doing that I will not be doing. But then I ask myself: How much more effectively could I show love to people if I, myself, understood the love God shows me? How much more effectively could I be the hands of God if I knew who God was and how God’s hands wished to be used? How much more effectively could I minister if prayer actually became the centerpiece of my life? It’s going to take nothing less that Spiritual Boot Camp to find out. I’m up for the challenge (and a challenge it will be!)

This formidable building will be home for almost a year.

In two weeks, the postulants of Holy Name Province will leave our home in Wilmington, DE. Packing up everything we own, we will say goodbye to the house we called home, the rooms we called “sacred space,” and the men we called brothers.

In two weeks, we will move into our new home in Burlington, WI. As in every step of our lives as Franciscans, we will adapt to our new surroundings and learn to call a new house “home,” create new sacred spaces, and learn to call new men brothers. We will adopt the routine of the house, and hopefully bring to it something new from our own experiences.

In two weeks, the postulant year will be over. It’s amazing to look back on the last 12 months and see all of the places we’ve been, the things we’ve learned, the ways we’ve grown, the relationships we’ve developed, and the trials we were put through. I summarized quite briefly my take on the year in “Postulancy: A Year of Discernment”, an article written for the Be A Franciscan newsletter. (Please pass on to anyone considering Franciscan life!)

In two weeks, we will be accepted into the novitiate, and begin a year of preparation for taking simple vows. Taken in steps (of which I only know what is written in this article), we will begin to remove ourselves from the world so as to grow in greater knowledge and contemplation of God, His Church, its servant Francis, and the Order he created. Eventually, we will be without credit cards, internet access, and cell phones, so as to be without as many distractions as possible.

And in two weeks, we will never again be just a class of five. Next year we will join 12 men from six other Franciscan provinces in what is called the Interprovincial Novitiate, and in each subsequent year of formation after that we will be with all the men in formation with Holy Name Province at our house of studies. The great thing about your class is that it can really shape you, but after the first year, it doesn’t have to.

These two weeks are going to fly by. I hope I’m ready for what’s on the other side of them.

This is a simplified version of only the “First Order” branch of the Franciscan family tree.

When I tell people that I’m becoming a Franciscan friar, I have to be clear as to which type of Franciscans I mean. “Oh, like the friars at Steubenville University?” No, those are TORs. “Is that the order Benedict Groeschel started?” Nope, that’s the Franciscan Friars of Renewal. “Are you going to be on EWTN?” That’s a different group of Franciscans than mine. “Oh that’s wonderful, tell Fr. Such’n'such I said hi!” I’m not sure who that is. Maybe he’s in a different province. ”Do you run Saint Anthony Press?” Sadly no, that’s Saint John the Baptist province.

These examples are endless.

The truth is, the Franciscan family is as vast as it is splintered. As of last year, my Order, the Order of Friars Minor (the one in the middle) had 14,057 friars worldwide; in the “First Order” alone, there were also 10,771 Capuchins and 4,307 Conventuals.  If you add that to the number of Second and Third Order Franciscan sisters and brothers worldwide, you’re looking at maybe 100,000 people that follow some form of the life of Saint Francis of Assisi.

But why so many groups? Why is our history filled with so many controversial reforms and divisions?

What I learned in “Survey of Franciscan History” (the course the postulants took at Saint Bonaventure University, taught by Dominic Monti, OFM) is that Francis promoted two very strong and very competing values in his life and writings.

The first of these is the freedom of the individual friar to follow his own conscience through the inspiration of God.  Francis famously said, “I have done what is mine; may Christ teach you what is yours!” There is a rugged individualism in the spirit of the Franciscans that promotes a tremendous diversity in character, prayer life, ministry, and governance. After Francis’ own example, there is a constant need for Franciscans to upset the status quo, to go against conventional wisdom of society or even an authoritative mandate, so as to be true to self.

What’s ironic about this is that Francis also put a tremendous amount of emphasis on the submission of one’s own will so as to preserve community. Throughout the Rule that Francis wrote, he demands that his followers be obedient always, not going against the wishes of the Church or Order, so as to avoid scandal and division.

Even without any knowledge of Franciscan history, I’m sure you can see a problem with this. What happens when, as is the case with every reform group, the friars no longer believe that the majority is staying true to the will of Francis? Is a friar compelled to compromise for the sake of unity, or be relentless for the sake of authenticity? When it came to issues over a friars ability to use money, the right to own property and accept donations, run parishes, and the proper attire (yes, they argued over shoes), there existed this problem. Both sides made legitimate arguments based on Francis’ Rule, and the consequences seemed inevitable: the Order split.

While I don’t see any significant schisms occurring within the Order any time soon, this is a dilemma that I will have to face (and have faced already) throughout my life as a friar. What happens when it’s time to buy a new car, appliance, piece of furniture, or whatever it may be, and I have a different perception of the vow of poverty than others in my house? What happens when a group of friars doesn’t want to wear their habits on a particular occasion, but I do? What happens when a community prays more or less often than I would like, or in a different way?

In each of these cases, there is an important question I have to ask myself: Is it better to be “right” or to be together? Sure, I could follow my own conscience, be a rebel, and live how I see fit no matter how my brothers react. There are times when this will be needed and I hope to have the courage to do so. But there will also be times when being “right” isn’t worth the consequence of being alone. Sometimes the best thing to do will be to submit my will to others for the sake of the whole. In these cases, I hope that I have the humility and “others-centeredness” to maintain a healthy fraternity.

So, is it better to be “right” or together? Such a question is nothing more than a false dichotomy. Neither are worthwhile ends in themselves because they sacrifice a critical Franciscan value for the sake of the other. It is only in striving for both, keeping contrary values in healthy tension, that I wish to live out my Franciscan life.

Prior to this summer, the postulants from all seven provinces met three times for a workshop and community time.  The purpose, just as this summer, was to tie in something academic with fraternity opportunities so as to better prepare us for the novitiate.  Though I did not mention it in my previous posts, these were not the greatest experience for me, and I left each one with a bit more anxiety about next year. I have to live with them? I liked a lot of the guys individually, but the group as a whole was exhausting, and I had no idea how I was going to do this summer, let alone all of next year.

In these five weeks together so far, my fears have been completely unfounded, and my perspective on next year has changed dramatically for the better.

Part of this is due to the change in atmosphere.  Rather than being a short week of travelling, all seventeen of us have settled in and are able to feel comfortable in our routines.  There’s enough free time that we’re able to balance community time with personal time, something that was impossible at a four-day workshop.  The other part of this is that we’ve begun to see ourselves as one unit, not seven units together in the same place.  These factors, with the start of novitiate fast approaching, have made us more able and more open to building fraternity with one another, and the result has been fantastic.

On a personal level, I’ve loved the opportunity to just hang out with some of the guys and do fun things.  During the day I spend time at the gym either working out or playing racquetball with a few guys, and at night we watch movies, play pool, or just stay up late telling stories and laughing with one another. (We do work occasionally too.)

Because of this, friend groups are definitely developing.  The larger group allows people to branch out of their own provinces and connect with people of more similar age, language, hobby, and background.  Unlike in years past, we’re not discouraged from developing personal friendships; whereas before it was thought that such relationships would inevitably lead to exclusivity and the weakening of community, the nuanced approach seeks to develop intimate relationships between individuals so as to incorporate them back into a healthy community.  Developing these relationships has been the best part for me so far, as I’ve really enjoyed the chance to get to know a few of the guys a little more each day.

Always in the back of my mind, however, is finding a way to be inclusive with my time, and to see each one as brother.  It’s somewhat inevitable, given the age disparity and existence of three native languages, that there will be distinct friend groups.  That’s okay.  It’s even okay if I’m not “friends” with everyone.  That’s community life.  What’s not okay is being exclusive to the point of cutting off members from the community.  We don’t have to spend all our time together, nor do we even have to like each other all that much, but we need to learn how to respect each other, cooperate, live together, and view each other as brothers, called by Christ to the same vocation.  This sounds really nice, and it was very easy to write, but this will no doubt be the toughest part of community life, next year and every year.

All in all, I have to say that I’m excited for the novitiate to start.  The anxiety I once had has all but washed away, and I look forward to living with this group of men on a more permanent basis three weeks from now.  Though I know that the year will by no means be easy, nor will the community life be a walk in the park, I think that I’ve grown close enough to a number of them to know that it’s going to be a fruitful one for sure.

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.

How do we deal with the doubts we experience each day?

As a religion major in college, I was taught how to look at the world in a very academic way.  This meant having a strong grasp of the historical contexts surrounding experiences of God and the literary devices used to tell about these experiences.  It meant questioning the plausibility and accuracy of religious texts against similar sources.  We were taught to assume nothing, and to deconstruct everything.

In one sense, this can be very helpful: understanding the historical context, author, audience, and genre of a religious source heightens one’s understanding of the truth about both God and humanity.  In another sense, however, the deconstruction of religion can be the start of a slippery slope of doubt that, without proper reconstruction, leads to one’s inevitable loss of faith.

What does one do upon learning that the first five books of the Bible are allegorical stories similar to the stories found in other cultures of the Ancient Near East; that there is no historical proof of anything in the Bible until David, including evidence against the exodus of the Israelites from Egypt; and that Paul most likely didn’t write half of the epistles attributed to him?  For some, information like this pulled the rug out from under their faith: “If X isn’t true, something I’ve always believed, then how could Y and Z possibly be true?”

As a Catholic, the majority of these things were not troubling.  We do not read the bible as a literal, inerrant text, and so finding out that everything probably didn’t happen exactly as it was written was a non-issue for me; it’s a text written by humans, inspired by God, and so I accept the truth it reveals without needing to read it as empirical fact.

That being said, I left my undergraduate experience with many more doubts than I had before I started.  Maybe ‘God’ is a human construct created by misinformed people to explain scientific phenomenon that they didn’t understand.  Maybe our experience of miracles is simply a series of coincidence enhanced with meaning through our own confirmation bias.  Maybe our perception of God can be attributed to chemical imbalances, natural phenomenon, and blind faith. These questions began creeping into the back of my head, and I began to question every aspect of my faith. Why do I believe in something that cannot explain and cannot prove?

I began answering this question a little more critically after my powerful prayer experience at the Benedictine monastery, Mount Savior.  In my time before the eucharist, I asked myself this question, and asked that I be guided in prayer to an answer. Here are a few things I came up with:

• I often feel an overwhelming with joy during the celebration of the eucharist, personal and communal prayer, and volunteer work.
• My heart seeks peace and justice, humility and sacrifice, and a universal brotherhood/sisterhood that I believe is in line with my perception of the Christian God.
• While I often doubt the existence of God, I find it very difficult to conceive of a world without an intelligent creator.  Maybe it is simply my socialization from a young age that leaves my mind rigid, but the thought seems unfathomable to me.
• I hope that there is a God in a fundamentally different way than I hope for other things.

Through this prayer, I realized that I had strong experiential evidence and a strong desire to believe.  What was in my heart showed me clearly that God had given me the gift of Faith long ago; it was my head that was in the way.  My inability to prove my faith to others, the fear of being made a fool for irrational beliefs, kept me from accepting what I knew at the core of who I was.  I had been given the gift, but did not have the will to accept it.

It may sound weird, and certainly in a different context it sounds psychotic, but what I’ve done since is simply will myself to believe.  I’ve had to give up the useless necessity for proof, and take a chance at following what I find to be meaningful.  I’ve had to actively tell the intellectual side of me to take a risk and just believe.  Sure, I may be wrong, but what good is it to let that fear get in the way of what I feel to be right?

I still doubt many things. I imagine I always will. For now, I have to remind myself of the powerful experiences of God I’ve had over the years, willing myself to be open enough for God to grow in me. It’s certainly not easy, but my experience has been that it is entirely worth it.

At the heart of their brotherhood lay the conviction that they were called to live in solidarity with the poor, to work alongside them or, if necessary, to join them in begging.  If they had given up work, it is hard to see how their way of life, which did not correspond with the traditional forms of religious living at the time, could have survived.  Solidarity without work was impossible and begging would have been nothing more than a selfish intrusion into the world of the poor.

I am drawn especially to the last line and the dilemma that all who wish to live in solidarity with the poor have to face: how poor does one have to be “to be in solidarity with the poor?” Does solidarity simply mean being conscious of their troubles and working so as not to worsen them? Does it mean renouncing all of one’s worth, power, and status so as to live side-by-side with the homeless, begging for food to make a living?

What I take from this passage (and others) is twofold: No one can be in solidarity with the poor without experiencing true poverty for oneself, and that poverty is not something to be romanticized as an end in itself.

In order to be in solidarity with the poor, he wanted to know the poor by experiencing what they experienced.  He lived where they lived, ate what they ate, and wore what they wore. In doing so, he not only experienced the physical struggles of their poor conditions, but also the psychological ones, like the stress of living without a safety net.

Francis was also conscious of the effect this would have and asked, does it help the poor if we are all just as poor? I’m reminded of a scene from a popular movie: witnessing a woman trapped in a bear exhibit at a zoo, the only four men around that notice her life-threatening situation decide to jump into the pit with her rather than get help.  At that point, they were of course in solidarity with the trapped woman; on the other hand, they made her situation worse because there was now no one to help, and if help ever came they would need to help five people instead of just one. The same is true with Francis: had he attempted live at same level of poverty as those incapable of helping themselves, begging when he was capable of working, he would have simply made the life of the poor harder, and at what gain?

As a friar in the modern world, I will be faced with many difficult questions that require compromise and critical thinking so as to live as best I can withand for the poor. With very little way of answering any of them now, here are a few things I’ve been wondering:

• Is it better to buy higher quality products, i.e. cars, appliances, that will last longer and will certainly cost less in the long wrong, or to only purchase what the poor are capable of buying and deal with the same frustrations of lower quality products?
• Taking this question to the extreme (but still and important question), should we even own cars, washing and drying machines, and computers, or should we be forced to use public transit, laundry mats, and libraries for these needs like the poor are?
• Is it better to buy more expensive organic foods, products that are better for the environment, the workers, and our health, all things that friars should be conscious of, or do we resort to buying the cheapest foods we can find and distribute the savings to the poor?
• Is it better to become vegetarians, recognizing that meat is expensive, bad for the environment (in the amount it is currently consumed), and not always readily available for the poor, or do we simply try to provide more adequate nutrition to all?

I don’t think that there is a universally correct answer to questions like these, but I do think we can always strive for more nuanced ways to both be in solidarity with the poor and to serve them better.  Ultimately, its helpful to remember that Jesus was not the poorest person in history, and so our imitation of him does not require us to be either. There is such a thing as dehumanizing poverty, poverty that strips a person of dignity and defaces God’s creation.  In understanding this, we who seek to live in solidarity with the poor should never cross this line ourselves, foolishly and selfishly accepting less than human conditions.  What good is it for the poor for us to jump into the bear pit? I think there are better ways to do justice to our neighbor than to take on their pain just to see how it feels. Then again, I speak from ideals and theories; let’s see what a few more years and some real life experience brings, shall we?

Anyway, because of the dual nature of this summer (education and fraternity), our schedule is a bit busy as times, and complicated all the time. Our main focus, I would argue, is class from 8:30-11:20 Monday through Friday. For the last two weeks we were enrolled in “Francis: Life and Charism” which focused on the early history of the order and the foundational texts; starting Monday, we will be taking “The History of the Franciscan Order” with esteemed Franciscan scholar and Vicar Provincial of Holy Name Province, Dominic Monti, OFM. (Dominic came to Wilmington twice this year to give us a workshop on the history of Holy Name Province)  Both are enriching experiences to learn about Francis in a more formalized and rigorous setting than we have been accustomed.

But while I say the academic work is probably our main focus, it wouldn’t be a true Franciscan experience without prayer and fraternity. We meet as a University community for morning prayer Monday through Thursday  at 7:15, mass Monday through Thursday at 4:30, mass on Fridays at 7:15, and night prayer at 9:00 on Wednesdays; as a house community, we meet for mass on Saturday at 8:00, night prayer Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, and evening prayer Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays. (I mentioned that it was confusing!)

In addition to our prayer life, we meet once a week on Wednesdays for a house meeting in which we give an update of our lives and hear house news. On Tuesdays and Thursdays we meet for a  University run “roundtable” for men and women in formation to get away from their formators and discuss the positive and negative sides of formation.

Our afternoons are free, and so it is a great time to relax, get some classwork done, or spend some time at the fitness center. As for fun, the evenings after night prayer are usually finished with some laughs together, and a few of us have begun a weekend tradition of darts, pool, and dinner at a few of the local restaurants.

All in all, it’s been a great time so far.  It’s much harder to write an academic paper than I remember, but it feels great to be back in the classroom and working on an intellectual level.  I’ve enjoyed living with my new seventeen brothers, and look forward to spending the next year with them in Burlington, Wisconsin! (For a refresher as to what I mean by that, check out a few earlier posts about my new brothers and the novitiate.)

I’m still behind on getting pictures uploaded from campus, but I’ll post about it when I do.