Advent as Transition

Advent is a time of transition for all of us as we eagerly await the coming of the Lord, who is fully divine, fully God, to enter our world, our flesh, and our lives. To be honest, as I have experienced it, transition is not always easy. And if we go with God, it never happens without sacrifices. John's Gospel has a great line-- "He must increase, but I must decrease." And I have found that this is what Advent and what transition is all about. The more we say "Yes" to God; the more we surrender, the more we embrace the moment-- the more God will increase in our lives. The more God will increase in our thoughts, the more God will increase in our joy, the more God will increase in our decisions and actions, the more God will increase in our interactions with others.

Earlier today something struck me-- and it was that those memories and those people that I miss the most, that which I have been asked to temporarily sacrifice and surrender are the very memories that have fuelled my prayer and the very people that I take with me in every one of the experiences that I have had over here in Rome. I think of the building excitement and anticipation of St. Stephen just before Mass starts as old friends and families who have raised children together look around to see each other and greet one another-- greeting those with whom they share an extraordinarily strong faith. I remember the ground shaking vibrancy of prayer at St. Gregory the Great as choir members sing their hearts out or as Fr. Damien sings one of my favorite songs-- "Thank You Lord." I remember Fr. Sy jumping up and down with his hands out-stretched at St. Cecilia's. I remember the students and teachers at John Carroll-- their unwavering eagerness to crack a joke and their instant instinct to help one another as a true community and a family. I remember the ruggers at Loyola College and their willingness to do whatever it takes to support one another and their joy in living simply. I remember the young people at Micah 6:8 and JAW who invested themselves to opening their minds and their hearts to consider what it is like to walk in another person's shoes and then to dedicate themselves, in all faith and out of their love for God, to be men and women of service for others. I remember St. James and their excitement in building community, in getting Fr. Steve and me to literally run with them, and in their eagerness to share themselves, their stories, and their faith. I remember St. Augustine-- their fun loving hospitality and strong faith and hope in one another and in God. I remember serving at the Cathedral and the Basilica-- that great feeling of not wanting to make a mistake but wanting to fully invest in the praise that is going on all around you just enter into the worship. I remember my brothers at St. Mary's-- the discourses, the excitement and joy of growing together and supporting one another, and the fun of being brothers in a great community. I remember my brother Baltimore seminarians and the many prayers, supports, and memories that we share. Not to mention my family and all of the friends who are so close that they are family.

As I think about the time that I am not able to share with these people-- maybe the missed opportunities-- I also cannot help but think of how they are with me. How the many lessons that I learned from them and the many memories that I share with them remain with me-- and I recall them often in joy and gratitude. To be perfectly honest-- when I recall these memories and these living icons-- I am more able to invest my entire self into what I am doing with joy. So this great transition which I am still adjusting to, though it has been difficult, has born much fruit.

Two nights ago, before our NAC Christmas party, I went with a couple of friends to a local house run by the Missionaries of Charity to prepare and serve dinner with them for some of the poor here in Rome. While there I was able to meet and talk with a Franciscan from Sicily, an Oblate from Africa, and Missionaries of Charity from India and Russia. Last night a friend and I went to join a Jesuit community for their celebration of the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe. It was a blast. We spent hours there talking with people from Croatia, Madagascar, Poland, Germany, Bangladesh, France, and Mexico. And as we talked we shared our experiences of the Church and our great desires to return home to serve the local churches that have formed us.

I believe that a major factor of this transition that I am undergoing is to redefine the notion of home. Certainly home will always be with my family and friends. But another, and very deep, notion of home is emerging which knows no borders in which every person is a brother or a sister. That home is in the Church, it is the Church-- the entire Church which as we believe is present at every single Eucharist, literally the Body of Christ. And in this home all are present, all rejoice-- all from Baltimore, all from Croatia, from Poland, from Mexico, from every corner of the world-- everyone is there.

So I want to thank everyone from those communities for the very real impact that you continue to have on my life and the lives of the people that I meet. Transition is not easy. Sometimes we don't want transition and we even fear it. But make no mistake-- there is nothing to fear. Allow God to enter into your transition and see and actualize God at work in your community. Allow God to increase, even if you have to decrease. Allow God to meet you where you are and completely revolutionize your very way of life, as he does in his birth. Allow God to fill you with joy and with hope and with faith and with love, even if things are changing. Take this Advent. Take this Advent as an opportunity to transition to a more radical trust in God and a more joyful embrace with God who is present in your family and your friends and the people of your life.

Unwaivering Missionary Zeal

Today is the feast of Saint Francis Xavier who spent himself for the majority of his life in the mission as he spread the Good News to a world that was virtually unknown in his time. Xavier brought Christ to the rich and to the poor of the East-- especially India and Japan. He is known for his charismatic and zealous joy. Last year during a silent retreat my spiritual director referred to Francis Xavier as an example of someone who saw his cause as so important that it was worth everything-- it was worth his entire life; and once Xavier determined to accept this cause everything in his life changed. He no longer lived for himself, but for others. He no longer chose his surroundings or his companions, but was sent to work tirelessly for his cause. And he did no waiver in zeal as he labored generously in embracing this cause and sharing it with others.

The cause that Francis Xavier devoted his entire life to was the salvation of souls-- the sheer joy of working tirelessly so that the eternal union with God which he hoped for so thoroughly could also include every single person. Francis Xavier taught that our knowledge as well as our talents exist for others. Every gift we receive ought to be utilized and shared with others and for the sake of others. We ought to live every moment of our lives for the sake of others-- and we ought to live those moments in joy.

As we are told in Scripture and as is reflected in the life of the Church-- our lives as Christians are fundamentally lives of service, lived for others. We are told that in the final days we will be judged based on how we lived love-- on how thoroughly we served others, how we adequately met their needs, spiritually, materially, etc. Therefore, whether or not we speak eloquently, whether or not we lead and influence others-- we must be people of service. And that, if we are Christians, is not an option. All-in-all, then, our lives exist for others. As Francis Xavier showed through the example of his life, our every gift, talent, and bit of information ought to be used for others.

And most likely Francis Xavier would have never been exposed to this great cause had it not been for his old buddy from college. If it had not been for his friendship with a classmate named Ignatius-- Francis would most likely have continued along his path of being a wealthy fun loving man of the world. But thanks to the patience, persistence, and teachings of Ignatius, Francis Xavier was brought not only to conversion but to a complete revolution which led him to devote himself totally to the God that he met and communed with in the Spiritual Exercises.

As I was praying by the remains of Francis Xavier I thought about how completely and totally, how zealously he resolved to follow and share the God that he met through the Exercises. And I also thought about how tremendously great of a friend Ignatius was. I remembered the great many friends that I have been blessed to learn from over the years-- especially those friends and mentors who have led me to conversion and have sparked within me the desire to share the God that I have met through prayer and interactions with others. I cannot help but be overwhelmed with gratitude for these people-- for these saints who have touched my life in a such a real way.

It's interesting to think about who we let into our lives and who we listen to-- who we allow to teach us. Sometimes we have criteria or deal breakers when it comes to meeting people or to listening to them with the intention of learning from them. On my way out of school this afternoon I stopped to talk with a man that is out in the couryard almost every day asking for money. Giusepe is a native Roman who likes to sit outside the Gregorian, ask for money, and sing a wide variety of different songs to the passers-by, often-times complaining about the other people who congregate around the Gregorian asking for money. Today, as he asked me for some money so that he could get something to eat, I responded that I was really sorry, but I didn't have any money-- and before I knew it he had put a Euro in my hand and said, "Well, then you need this more than I do today."

I gave the Euro back to him, but not without much arguing-- and I realized that this man was certainly more than worthy of being considered a teacher, of being considered an expert in what really matters. And I wonder how many people we dismiss throught the course of a single day-- how many great teachers we tune out or ignore simply because of a disagreement, difference in opinion-- or worse yet, status or title. It is scary to think about what is at stake here, to think about what is at stake if we ignore the true teachers of our daily experiences, the true saints.

Our world today would be completely different if it had not been for the unwaivering missionary zeal of St. Francis Xavier... and that man, Francis Xavier's, life would certainly not have been the same if he had not listened to his naggingly persistent classmate from Spain. In our lives I believe that we are both the teacher and the student... at different times... Don't miss your opportunities to spend yourself tirelessly for the cause of living the Gospel, for the cause of living for others.