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.