Solitude to Communal Celebration

My Easter celebration has been absolutely incredible this year, and I am truly grateful for the ways and the people in which God manifested God's own self this past week. I spent Holy Week with a couple of brother seminarians from the NAC on a pilgrimage through France that took us from the solitude of a hermitage in Southern France to the town of Chartreuse which is just at the foot of one of the oldest Christian monasteries in the world to the bustling city of Lyon to Cluny to an ecumenical community of contemplative brothers in a town called Taize. Throughout this pilgrimage we met literally thousands of people who witnessed through their joy, their simplicity, their love, their beauty, their hospitality, their love for the Lord, their faith... their lives. Here are a few:

1. The community of sisters and the priests of the Community of St. John who greeted us with warm and jovial hospitality and invited us to join them, though for a brief time, in their lives of solitude and simplicity. The lives that these saints live are incredibly simple and yet radically profound. They are hermits. They live in small huts, like the one above, on the side of a mountain in Southern France. They gather daily for Mass and then continue the celebration through their daily work of survival and praising God in the wilderness in silence. They have literally next to nothing and forego plumbing, electricity for some, warm water. Each hermitage is heated by a cylindrical wood-burner and the only available running water comes from a small spicket outside of the hermitage. These hermits truly live in the wilderness, and yet they find, follow, and embrace the Living God without ceasing. One of the priests of the Community of St. John described his vocation as "being a friend of Jesus." And for him, being a friend of Jesus has taken him to Rwanda in the 90's... the same time as the Rwandan Genocide, and to Romania where he devoted himself to building bridges and trust between the Roman Catholic Church and the Easter Orthodox Churches.

2. Silence. Very few things are able to capture the mysteries of Holy Week as adequately, poetically, and harmoniously as silence. And fittingly, silence was a major element and refrain for our pilgrimage. We found silence in the chapels of the hermitages, in the mountains and streams of the wilderness, and in the exclamatory pauses between chants and prayers shared by over 5,000 people at Taize. The communities that we encountered were contemplative, and so they live their lives more or less in silence. Their liturgies are slow, peace-filled, simple, and incredible. I was especially impressed by the silence embraced by the young people at Taize, who paused for 10-15 minute periods of silence at communal prayer (Morning, Mid-Day, and Evening). A church filled with over 5,000 people, the vast majority of whom were under the age of 30, entered into silence intentionally, communally, and unanimously. This silence was incredibly refreshing and incredibly profound. It fit our celebration of Holy Week well-- allowing us to enter into the mystery that is God, inviting us to stand without words at the foot of the Cross, beckoning our participation in the silence of the reality of Holy Saturday, and then finally over-filling us with peace as we sang the universal triumphant word of the Church which far transcends our own thoughts and words. Alleluia.

3. Other pilgrims from all over the world. In Taize we encountered and got to know Christian pilgrims from all over the world. These people came on pilgrimage to seek God in a profound way, and many of them did so amidst profound decisions in their lives. I met a Slovakian couple who have been living in London for several years now. The girl is a nurse in London, but is discerning whether or not God is calling her to return home to Slovakia. The uncertainty of this decision and of its effects were tangible as her and her boyfriend shared their discernment with others and brought who they are to a community of Christians who were previously strangers; to chants of Latin, German, Italian, Slovakian, English; to God in prayer; to the Cross; and to the triumphantly loud singing of praise at Mass on Easter Sunday. I also met a group of pilgrims from Lafia who spent more time on their voyage to Taize than they spent actually in Taize. Over three days they drove across Poland and Germany, over the Alpes, going through quite the adventure as their headlights and brakes went out while they were coming down from the Alpes. And yet, although they had gone through a great deal of stress and sacrifice to make it to Taize, said, "This place (Taize) is paradise."

Pilgrims come to Taize from all over the world. And they, like the brothers of Taize, embraced simplicity and contemplation. They took prayer seriously and invested themselves to God through prayer... prayer that lasted anywhere from 1 to 5 hours at a time. They chose to sit on a hard floor for hours in prayer that included spiritual conversations, the Sacrament of Reconciliation, ancient and contemporary chants, and silence.

4. Relationality. Just as the priest of the CSJ confessed, "My vocation is to be a friend of Jesus," so too, each one of us shares in that very same vocation. And as we deepen our friendship with Jesus we also, at the same time, deepen our friendships with the friends of Jesus... every human being. I experienced this through prayer this Holy Week, especially as I venerated the Cross on Good Friday.

At Taize they venerate the Cross every Friday. They first carry the Cross through the congregation in a solemn procession. Then they lay the Cross down on the ground and the brothers venerate the Cross, mostly by placing their foreheads to the wood of the cross. They then invite the congregation, about 5,000 strong, to venerate the Cross in similar fashion. As pilgrims file into line to venerate the Cross they kneel or sit in the center aisle and slowly move forward as the line progresses towards the Cross. For the two hours that I knelt in line I honestly had no idea what I was going to do when it was my turn to venerate the Cross. I didn't know the words to say or the gesture to make or the thought to share or the image to embrace.

But as I gently rested my forehead on the Cross someone came to mind. She is a homeless heroine addict that I met during my first parish assignment, at St. Gregory the Great in Baltimore City. And I felt, probably because it was the reality, that I was bringing this woman, a woman who I remember in prayer often, to the Cross of Jesus, her friend who is there with her in her own struggle. Then a close friend of mine who is struggling with a similar addiction emerged, and I brought him to the Cross, to Jesus who is with him and with his wife, son, and daughter. And then tons of people, from my family, from the seminary, from parish assignments, brother Baltimore seminarians approaching ordination, from school, from work, from all facets of my life processed, one by one, in prayer to the Cross where they were and are united with Christ.

This reality of holding one another in prayer and how it relates to our faith was made accutely apparent during the intercessions as we prayed for the victims of the recent earthquakes in Japan and then, immediately after prayed as a community of 5,000 the chant, "Nothing can ever come between us and the love of God." I find this to be such a mystery and such a challenge at times, but saw somehow that even in times of great suffering we are so incredibly united with God. And in that same reality, I gained some insight into what it means to be a seminarian and a priest-- as one who lives for others-- in deed, in word, and in prayer-- just basically loving people and trying to serve as a bridge in any way possible between others and God.

5. My brothers. Seeing the sisters and the priests of the CSJ at the hermitage and then seeing the brothers at Taize was truly inspiring and to be honest attractive. Their sense of community and of apostolic zeal was impressive and it was apparent that they, in both communities, live the Gospel. Their intentionality of community and their sharing of prayer and service together for others was impressive to say the least. That being said, my experience of these communities would have been less if it had not been for my brothers with whom I shared this pilgrimage. The laughs, sharing of graces, prayer, and everything else brought so much to the experience. Just another example of how awesome it is to be pursuing a vocation to the priesthood.

For the record, this was my first Holy Week away from Baltimore-- away from St. Stephen's and away from my brother Baltimore seminarians, and away from serving at the Cathedral. But I definitely did not feel as though I was celebrating these great mysteries without those communities and honestly very much felt connected with them and with the whole Church in prayer and in great celebration. And I look forward in great hope and expectation to the unfolding of this Easter as the Octave continues.

Come Together Right Now Over Me

Philosophers and theologians have been saying for thousands of years that we, as human beings are wired for community-- we are wired to get to know and enter into relationships with one another. And the architecture and city plan of every Italian town that I have seen reflects this innate wiring that we all have in the piazza-- the central spectacle and focal point of the town where people come together. To the left is a picture of the main piazza in Siena, where they hold a horse race called the Palio every year. Just about every town in Italy has a central piazza where people gather. The Piazza Commune in Assisi hosts concerts, lectures, marches, wedding receptions, etc. Piazza Navona in central Rome is the gathering place for street entertainers, venders, rowdy ragazzi (Italian teens), couples enjoying a free night, and countless tourists and pilgrims. And certainly the world famous Piazza San Pietro in front of St. Peter's Basilica which welcomes thousands upon thousands of pilgrims for daily Mass, prayers, pilgrim tours, beatifications, major feasts, canonizations, papal audiences, etc. These central gathering spaces are arenas where people come together-- they are the locations in which community manifests itself. And they facilitate a genuine need in bringing people together. In Baltimore we're pretty lucky to have the Harbor and places like Fells Point, Canton, Federal Hill, and Belvedere Square where people can gather for a free afternoon, an outdoor concert, etc. One of my favorite places in Baltimore, and one that I am missing a lot this time of year, is the stretch that runs between Camden Yards and M&T Stadium-- that unforgetable walk on Eutaw Street that has come to be coined "Bird Land." I can remember walking to Ravens' games, seeing friends from high school and taking in the atmosphere of burgers and brats on the grill, footballs in the air, and friends and families everywhere. I can remember being late to Orioles' games and singing the National Anthem with friends on the way into the Park.

One of the ways that we build community here at the seminary is rallying around and supporting our soccer team. Every year in Rome there is a tournament between all of the seminaries in the city called the Clericus Cup. Competition in this tournament is intense as seminarians from all over the world try to win the Cup for their seminary and for their country. At the NAC our tradition as fans is to dress up as super heroes and other ridiculous characters to support our team and bring unrivaled sports cheer to the city of Rome. We walk together to the matches and then engage the game as the 12th man through songs and cheers. Here at the seminary we also gather to build fraternity and community through softball, frisbee, football, and basketball games. We come together for BBQs, lectures, and regional celebrations. But above all, we come together multiple times each day in prayer with one another-- looking to God; a God for whom each of us desires to live. We gather for Morning Prayer, for Mass, for the Rosary, for special devotions. We gather for Evening Prayer, for Adoration, and for Praise and Worship. And the communal prayer that we share lays the foundation for our community. It deepens the significance and the depth of sharing that takes place on the sports field and in the classroom and on the patio. And to be perfectly honest, I'd argue that we gather in prayer when we gather on the sports field and in the piazza. We look to the same God whom we love in the communal arenas of recreation as we do in the communal temples of adoration. And when we gather together, as Christians, we always gather together over and with Christ. Whether we be gathering to offer service to one another, support one another, or to enjoy one another-- we do so with Christ in our midst and in our hearts and in our line of sight. My Lenten observance this year has been to spend some time each day contemplating heaven. And whether it has involved the communion of saints, the sheer inability to comprehend or describe in words, the relationship shared between the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, the relationship shared between the people in heaven and God, etc. it has always involved community and communion-- a sense in which we are so drawn out of ourselves as to be totally conscious of and united with God. And although these experiences of community and of communion that we share here in this life are a mere taste of the eternal experience of heaven... they're pretty good.