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Spiritual Boot Camp

08 Aug

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!)

 
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Posted by on August 8, 2012 in Novitiate, Prayer

 

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In Two Weeks

31 Jul

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.

 
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Posted by on July 31, 2012 in Formation

 

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Looking Forward to Our New Community

23 Jul

As I mentioned five weeks ago, the purpose of this summer experience at Saint Bonaventure University was twofold: 1) gain a more formalized and academic understanding of Francis, and 2) begin to create a brotherhood with the men with which we’ll be living next year.  So far, the latter has been the highlight, and honestly, a bit of a surprise.

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.

 
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Posted by on July 23, 2012 in Fraternity

 

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A Spirit of Itinerancy

01 Jul

As itinerants, friars are constantly on the move: we change dwelling places, ministries, friar communities, and schedules. As I’ve alluded to here and there, the reason we do this is to avoid attachment and to remind us that all we have and use is borrowed, not owned.

If all of these consequences are true about itinerancy, there is not a more detached and sharing group of men in the whole world than the postulants (and director) of Holy Name Province: having settled into Saint Bonaventure University for a few weeks, I have now slept in twenty-one different beds since August (not including those I slept in while on breaks). That’s what I call itinerancy! On almost a bi-weekly basis, we were forced to adapt to not only new locations, but also new people, new situations, and new ways of doing the same things we were used to doing differently at home.

Herein lies what I believe to be the true benefit of becoming an itinerant: flexibility and openness. While communities that never change may be more efficient and comfortable, they run the risk of stagnation and stunted growth behind the killer of inspiration, “This is the way we do it.” Groups such as ours, ones that are always changing environments and forced to incorporate different members and situations, remain much more flexible in routine, are open to new possibilities, and can experience much greater growth.

Nothing could have prepared us better for our experience here among the other postulants. With men represented from seven different Franciscan provinces across the United States and Canada, we are now all faced with (at least) seven different ways of doing something. Prayer, chores, meals, recreation, personal time, and entertainment now have seven different voices coming together as one, each saying, “This is the way we do it.”

With no established routine or majority, there are two possible results: growth fueled by listening, respect, and compromise, or anarchy.

So far, we’ve leaned towards the former. With two of the seven directors present to facilitate, the nineteen of us have met multiple times already to discuss the needs and expectations of both self and community. So far, we’ve established a signup sheet for particular chores and responsibilities around the house and voted on a prayer schedule that works for most. So far, we’ve avoided anarchy.

The entire experience, big picture as well as here at Saint Bonaventure’s, has been something I believe will better prepare us for lives as friars. Though we will probably never move as frequently as we do this year, we will be periodically faced with situations that upset our status quo, situations that can either make or break community life in our friaries. It is my hope that I may always live with a spirit of itinerancy, flexible and free of attachments, so that I may always be open and attentive to the needs of both brother and neighbor.

[Pictures to come soon]

 
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Posted by on July 1, 2012 in Fraternity, Postulancy, Trips

 

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Learning to Say Goodbye

03 May

We formed some great relationships at the Jeanne Jugan residence this year.

Today was our last day volunteering at the Jeanne Jugan Residence. After more than seven months of Bingo, room visits, word games, Bible study, and the like, our time came to a close with a farewell “Berry Special Sendoff” (named for the strawberry pound cake that was served). A number of sisters, staff members, and residents came to the microphone to say some kind words, and we had the chance to walk around to all of the tables to say goodbye to the men and women that we had gotten to know so well. The whole day was quite touching, and great way to end.

As I look back on the year and wonder what effect Dennis and I may have had on the residents, I come to realize that this has been just as fulfilling and revelatory for me as it has been for them. Here are two of the things that I found helpful for my future in ministry.

I will grow to love ANY ministry 

Back in September when we were assigned ministry locations, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the prospect of working at a nursing home. Though I was open to the idea, and by no means fought it or showed any disappointment, there was certainly a part of me that wished for something else. Ugh… a nursing home?

What I came to realize was that, even though I wasn’t a part of some newsworthy effort to radically “save the world,” this ministry effected the lives of a number of individuals in a profound way, making it just as worthwhile as anything I could have done. Like the story of the person throwing back starfish into the water despite the impossibility of saving all of them, I realized that “I made a difference to that one!” and that is all that matters!

There’s no doubt that I’ll be placed in ministries throughout my life that are not my “ideal” choices. After having this experience I now know that it doesn’t matter. Every place I go there are going to extraordinary things to be done, incredible people to meet, and discoveries to be made about myself. In the end, if it’s God working through me, who am I to decide where that should and shouldn’t go? Because of this, I think it will be very difficult not to love every ministry as my own after only a short time.

No ministry is mine

This gradual love for each ministry can, however, lead to a different problem: the inability to give it up later. Transitions like the one we made today will more or less dominate the rest of our lives. As transient preachers, Franciscan friars rarely stay in one place forever. Whether it’s three, six, nine, or even twelve years, we all know that our ministry assignments will probably never be permanent, and that at some point we’ll be asked to pack up and move on.

In this way, it can be difficult to realize that no ministry is mine. More than likely a ministry existed before I got there, and most definitely will there be people left behind doing work after I leave. As attached as we may get to a particular place, ministry, or group of people, we must remember that our vocation was not to work in that specific circumstance alone; we were called to spread the Gospel wherever it needs spreading.

As I found out today, this second point is much harder than the first. Just because we live a transient lifestyle does not mean that we do not engage in deeply connected relationships; all it means is that we must cope with letting these connections go shortly after they’re developed. The important thing to remember in all this is that, no matter how difficult it may be to leave a beloved ministry now, there will always be another one prepared for us by God just up ahead. Today, I may have learned how to say goodbye to people I have come to care for greatly, but tomorrow I will begin to say hello once more to the new possibilities that this life has to offer. What a beautiful thing this is, the life of a friar.

 
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Posted by on May 3, 2012 in Formation

 

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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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Easter Internships

10 Apr

With Easter comes new life, and new opportunities. Alleluia!

Alleluia! He is risen! I hope and pray that everyone had peace-filled Holy Week and Easter celebrations and that we’re all rejoicing in the newness of life given to us by the resurrected Christ. It can be a very crazy time of the year, especially for those in liturgical ministries, and so I hope it was also a time for prayer and reflection (and not just work!)

One of the particular things that the postulants do for Holy Week each year is to go out on a “mini internship” at one of Holy Name Province’s many ministries. Because no one place could hold all five of us at once, we went out two-by-two (-by-one) to three different locations: Sergio and I went up to Mt. Irenaeus in West Clarksville, NY, Ramon and Dennis went to St. Francis of Assisi Church in Manhattan, and Ed aided St. Paul’s Church here in Wilmington, a place with only one priest to handle all of Holy Week.

One of the things we realized almost immediately was that there was almost nothing in common with any of the three locations. Mt. Irenaeus houses six friars living on a mountain top, hosting 25-50 people at the table for intimate liturgies and inclusive meals in their home; St. Francis of Assisi Church consists of more than 25 friars living in the busiest place in the country, serving literally thousands of people per day in a much more extraordinary, yet anonymous liturgy; and St. Paul’s is run by one friar, and is a niche parish for Spanish speakers in a poor neighborhood of a small city. In terms of ministerial experiences, we could not have been farther away from one another.

And yet, when we shared with one another our experiences of the week, we described our time with the friars and their ministry in almost the exact same way. Though we had seen it briefly in our trips throughout the year, such an experience made it so clear that there is a particular charism that we as friars bring to our life and work that is identifiable no matter the ministry or location.

The most obvious of this was that each ministry was first and foremost a community. Even at St. Paul’s where there is only one friar working at the ministry, each location had at least three friars with which to share meals, pray regularly, and recreate. This is absolutely the cornerstone for our Franciscan life and mission. Unlike most other communities, we were instituted to be a brotherhood, out of which flows ministry, not the other way around. It is only after we establish a healthy, prayerful community can we begin to understand the needs of the community and attempt to fulfill them.

Thus, at all three locations we noticed that the friars collaborated constantly with the laity, choosing to lead with rather than speaking in directives, even if that the latter might be much easier. At the root of this, I believe, is a desire of friars to invite others to enter into each others’ lives, so as to not only teach, but to be taught. To do this, each community finds itself eating, praying, and socializing with the laity outside of normal “work” circumstances, treating each other as equals on the pathway to faith.

At each place, this manifests itself in different ways, but the effect is the same. Whether it’s having a planning meeting before the liturgy so that the laity can not only participate, but add their own gifts to the liturgy, as at Mt. Irenaeus, or it’s making the sacraments accessible to the people, even if it means taking three-hour shifts for 12 hours a day for confession, or saying the first reading in seven different languages, as in NYC, there is inclusivity and humility in the way the friars lead. In all of these cases, it’s not about what the friars want, but rather what the community needs. I believe that it’s this attentiveness to listen and provide that makes us successful in our ministries and inspiring in our lay movements.

* * *

Obviously there was more to the experience than I am able to share, but I do have a number of great pictures here of Mt. Irenaeus for those interested. You can also find a better description of the place there, as well as at their website, http://www.mounti.com/.

 
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Posted by on April 10, 2012 in Postulancy, Trips

 

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This Moment Is Sufficient

03 Apr

A simple meal, a breviary, and solitude. What more does one need to be with God?

After more than three weeks of analysis, decompression, and procrastination, I finally have a few thoughts on my hermitage experience.

***

I was a Franciscan hermit for nearly 95 hours. With the exception of an hour and a half a day for mass, dinner, and evening prayer, I was left a in a one-person cabin by myself. I was without a phone, computer, television, newspaper, and clock, leaving me with no way to know anything about the world outside of what my own senses could perceive. I was alone with myself. I was alone with God.

At the onset, I was very excited, but unsure of what was in store. I knew from my experience at Mt. Savior (Living In the Moment) that prayer did not have to be planned, systematized, well-constructed, or even articulated in an understandable way for it to be affective. Rather than seeing prayer as something that begins with the sign of the cross and ceases to exist with the final Amen, I needed to understand prayer as more of a constant act, a conscious state of being that both informs my every action and is informed by my worldly experiences. Every moment can be a prayer if I allow it to be. With this in mind, I closed the door, entered into solitude with this to say:

So what’s my plan? I have no idea. I’m afraid of the free-flowing, “do-whatever-I-feel-called-to-do” type retreat because it has the possibility of getting nothing done. On the other hand, too much planning (or even any at all) doesn’t leave room for God to operate. In that way, I’m going to err on the side of inefficiency. I’m going to let God lead.

With that said, I also knew that there was absolutely no way that my IFNJ/3 personality was going to be able to survive five days of solitude without at least a framework from which to start. Each morning I woke up with the sun around 7:00 and prayed morning prayer on my porch. After a simple breakfast, I would return to the porch to gaze at nature and contemplate a few things with God for an hour or so. When the time felt right, I would come in to shower, pray midmorning prayer (which, with midday and midafternoon, only takes about 5 minutes) and head out for a hike. After a good hike it was usually time for lunch, and so I sat an ate my humble meal (pictured above) with a prayer. By this point in the day, I started getting a little itchy and needed to actually accomplish something (or I would go crazy), so I usually sat for a while and read either from the Gospels or Francis’ writings, filling in the time before dinner with “productive things.” The bell rang sometime around 4:30, and it was off to Mass, dinner, and evening prayer with my brothers, before returning ever so soon for some more solitude. Partially because I was bored out of my mind at this point of the night, and partially because I was tired, I found myself heading to bed with the darkness, what I can only guess was about 8:30 or 9:00.

It may seem like a lot of “planning” for someone who was letting God lead, but each day was somehow entirely different. One day on my hike, I prayed my own Canticle of the Creatures in the style of the Rosary, replacing each Hail Mary with a praise of God through one of his creations, followed by Francis’ prayer before the crucifix. This was completely off-the-cuff, and to no surprise, moved me in a profound way. Similarly, I decided on another day to observe each of the hours of the Divine Office, but to use my own prayers instead of the ones in the breviary so as to be more attentive to where I was being moved at that moment.

And do you know what? Even if it does seem like a lot, it took me more than twelve hours to complete it all! Do you have any idea how quiet, quiet can be when there’s nothing to do but sit and listen? Better yet, do you have any idea how much there is to hear/feel/understand/know when you’re still enough to let it happen? It’s dangerous, I tell you!

In the stillness of the moment, I was reminded of two people that I had neither spoken to nor thought about in years. What makes these individuals special is that they hurt me in a profound way a long time ago, and I have bottled my resentment towards them ever since, never seeking to let go or to seek reconciliation. Only when my heart was still enough to hear God did I realize that my subconscious bitterness towards both of them had been stinting my relationship with God, and that it was time for me to “unclench my fist” so to speak. Was it possible for me to love God while hating my brother, I asked myself. Providentially, the Gospel that afternoon was The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant (Matthew 18:21-35), a Gospel that gave me a pretty good answer. Without the openness to be still, I would have never heard in the way I needed to hear it.

Which brings me to the culminating point of this post: this moment is sufficient. Unlike in our Western, capitalistic society in which we’ve been trained to want more and to work to achieve more in the future, God offers everything that we could ever possibly want in each present moment: Himself. As C.S. Lewis correctly points out in the Screwtape Letters, “The present is the point at which time touches eternity” (#15). To be more concerned with future possibilities than with present realities is it to implicitly accept a false existence, a construct of our own imaginations that bears only a semblance of truth, over the concrete Truth presented to us by God in this moment alone. While we should always remain hopeful for the future, and plan for it in the sense that we will be open to the new possibilities that God may provide, to allow either of these to distract us from the fullness of God’s presence in our lives in this very moment is utterly useless. When I was still enough to listen, I realized that there’s nothing I need to be left wanting for. In this moment, I can know God.

 
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Posted by on April 3, 2012 in Prayer

 

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Breaking In The (real) Habit

28 Mar

Because pictures were not allowed tonight, you'll just have to imagine for a little longer...

Up until now, the theme of this blog, a play on words of the attire for a religious, has been nothing more than symbolic, and at times, speculative in nature. The reality is that I cannot break in a physical habit (or be broken in by one) until I actually receive one in December of this year. Or so I thought…

Tonight, we were fitted for what will be our habits during the novitiate year. Because we’ll only be temporary members next year called “novices,” being “fitted” for a habit meant searching through a closet filled with old and worn habits of deceased friars (hoping we could find one even remotely close to our height and with as few rips and stains as possible), instead of being sized for a new, custom made one. It’s a great sign of humility, and for the sake of puns, excellent that I’ll be receiving an already broken in habit. What more could I ask for?

At this point, I’m practically no closer to being a friar than I was two hours ago; the only difference is that I have a ripped, slightly stained habit hanging in my closet waiting to be tailored. But there was something very significant in putting one on, getting to know what it felt like, and seeing what I looked like, all for the first time. Honestly I didn’t want to do any of it yet! Even knowing that it wasn’t real, that it was more like a game of dress-up than anything else, it was still a pretty powerful moment to see myself as a friar.

But for now, it’s back to the normal jeans and a t-shirt, khakis and a button-up for ministry. Come December, though, I might look a little different. The important thing to remember is that my life is being oriented toward the Latin habitus, ”putting on a new way of life.” Each day I’m focused on repentance and loving God, no matter what it is I’m wearing throughout my life as a friar, I’ll actually be breaking in the (real) habit and letting it break me into the Kingdom that I seek. Seriously, what more could one ask of this life?

 
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Posted by on March 28, 2012 in Formation

 

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“Acting” Like Friars

11 Mar

For those of you that read Quiet Weekend, Busy Weeks and were completely confused by the picture at the bottom, I apologize. I thought that I had mentioned that earlier, but apparently I did so only on an individual basis.

At the Inter Franciscan Formation Programs held at the Graymoor Spiritual Life Center twice a year, there is a talent show on the last night of the workshop. Being the ham that I am, I took the opportunity to rouse the crowd with a fake magic show, as pictured in the other post. To my surprise, one of the sisters actually recorded it. For your viewing pleasure at my expense:

The skit was such a hit, that we were inspired to come up with another idea. Here’s what we did this past weekend. It’s a bit longer, but it’s pretty funny:

I said it in “Mission” Accomplished and believe it even more now that we’ve done these two skits: Friars working separately may be more efficient, but it won’t be more effective. It was harder to work with extra people, and it may be been a little rustier as a result, but our witness as brothers really made the difference. I hope that these silly skits will remind me that brotherhood is our first priority, and from it, ministry will follow. To confuse this order is to confuse our Franciscan charism.

 
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Posted by on March 11, 2012 in Announcement, Fraternity

 

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