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.

Vive Christo Rey

Today is the feast day of Christ the King. It comes at the end of the Liturgical year as one last rally, one last celebration to totally dedicate our every action. And since it falls at the end of the year it invites us to review our year-- to reflect on the past year and ask ourselves where God was present in the past year; where God was calling us to give of ourselves in the past year; and how we can continue to respond to those calls.

Fittingly this past weekend also featured the installation of 24 new cardinals-- 24 men from around the world, now called princes of the Church, who may vote on and may become the next pope. The idea behind calling them princes, I think, is that they stand as leaders who are called now more than ever to be ready to embody the utterly sacrificial life of Christ. Let us not ever forget the king whom they are now invited to follow, as are we all.

This king, who we celebrate today, was one who chose as his chariot, his luxury car, a borrowed donkey. This king chose as his crown thorns which were given to him in mockery and rejection. This king chose for his support staff the rejects of society-- the fishermen and tax collectors. This king gained popularity and followership through preaching generosity, love, justice, service, peace, and above all forgiveness. And this king chose as his throne the cross.

Last night I had the opportunity to go into the Apostolic Palace, the pope's house, to greet the new cardinals, since the doors were open to the general public. And from talking to many of them, my classmates and I concluded that the most common thing that we heard from the new cardinals was an earnest request for prayers. They asked us to pray for them-- that they may be able to say yes to that which God is calling them. They asked us to pray for their home dioceses and Archdioceses. They asked us to pray for the people entrusted to their care. They asked us to pray for the Church.

The calling that they receive, I believe, is to be like Blessed Miguel Pro, SJ who pointed his every action towards the praise, reverence, and service of Christ the King. Pro was a free spirit who lived his priesthood and his Christianity to the fullest in a Mexico that outlawed any public display of Christianity. Pro disguised himself as a police officer, street cleaner, clown-- and did whatever he possibly could to bring Christ to everyone that he encountered. He put on different hats and different clothes to meet the people where they were. And although he knew that he was breaking the law and putting his life in jeopardy, Miguel Pro did all of this with a smile and is known for how joyfully he lived the Gospel.

Ultimately, though, Pro was martyred for his heroic efforts. He was placed before a firing squad and given one last chance to reject the faith. The news and propaganda cameras were rolling in sure hopes that Pro would meet their expectations-- but in his last words, the words that could have saved his life-- Pro cried at the top of his lungs-- "Viva Christo Rey-- Long Live Christ the King!"

I told these new cardinals that I would pray for them; and so I will. I will pray that they will embody the simplicity of purpose that Blessed Miguel Pro lived. I will pray that they embody the characteristics and humility fitting of a prince of Christ the King.

Rendiamo Grazie

This past weekend my Christology professor, Fr. Donath Herscik, SJ passed away. He had been in a great deal of pain for some time due to his battle with cancer; and left this world for the next on Saturday after praying the Rosary and singing the Salve Regina with a brother Jesuit. The more I think about Fr. Herscik, the more grateful that I am for his immense gift of self to my classmates and me. I truly believe that Fr. Herscik taught Christology by embodying Christ on the cross. Although, undoubtedly, another professor could have been found, this priest who had been suffering a great deal for over a year chose to begin another semester-- to begin another opportunity to speak of the Lord whom he loved so thoroughly.

During class lectures it was clear that Fr. Herscik was in pain as he spoke, though he would never say it; but it was also clear, from the spark in his eye and the almost meticulous detail of his excitement in the person and nature of Jesus the Christ that this man truly knew Jesus of Nazareth and had devoted his life to gaining even greater knowledge of him and the opportunities to spread this knowledge to the next generation of theology. And in addition to the factual, methodological, and spiritual testimony that he gave to us as his students, Fr. Herscik also gave us the witness of one who generously gives of self beyond all resemblance of comfort.

I think also of John Paul II, who in the later years of his life shared himself with all of us through and with his debilitated and suffering state. For me, such witness screams of hope. Hope that what we are doing is absolutely worth it. Hope that one more talk, one more homily, one more Sacrifice of the Mass, one more confession heard, one more class will make a difference. Hope that no matter what we go through in this life we have the assurance of eternal union with God who is beyond our wildest dreams. This is a hope, the hope, that sustains us in everything that we do-- and this hope comes first and foremost, I believe, from our personal knowledge of God. It comes from the ways and times in which we have encountered God who breaks into our ordinary lives to fill us with his life and his love.

Having known Fr. Herscik and many others like him, I want to be a priest all the more. I want to, like them, step out of the way and let God work through me; to let God work through the love of my actions. And I am absolutely excited to know that if it is God's will for me to be a priest I will have the opportunity to be in community with, worship with, work with, and learn from thousands of people who testify and witness to this same hope in their daily lives. There are so many people that I have met, young and old, since even before becoming a seminarian who live this hope so thoroughly and so generously. And I am grateful to them.

Talking with my classmates and brother seminarians, we can only imagine the great joy that was on Fr. Herscik's face as he gazed into the eyes of this Jesus the Christ and heard him say, "Donath, thank you. You spoke well of me."

What great opportunities all of us have, no matter who or where we are, to spend of ourselves generously in love along with our Lord and the entire communion of saints-- which, by the way, includes you too.

Rejoice! From the East to the West! Rejoice!

This past weekend at the NAC was a travel weekend; and since all of our universities celebrated the feast of All Saints today- it was a rare three day travel weekend. So five friends and I made a trip over to Medjegorje in Bosnia. Medjegorje is a small and very simple town which has become a major place of prayer visited by thousands of people from around the world.

During our short stay there I was absolutely blown away by the universality and the immense generosity of our Church. On the boat ride across the Adriatic Sea we ran into a group of American pilgrims in a group called Totally Yours. We had the chance to talk with them for a while on the boat; and were blown away when they invited us to join them in their bus ride up into town (about 3 hours by bus) and then generously offered to pay for our transportation back to Split just so that we could join them for a conference Sunday afternoon. And while in town we were really overwhelmed with their generosity and the generosity of the people of Medjegorje.

There were thousands of people of all ages in Medjegorje from all over the world who had come to pray and to seek God. The parish church in the center of the town is always full. Whether it be for the Rosary, Adoration, Mass, or any other prayer service; the church building is shoulder-to-shoulder standing room only. It is busting at the seams with people surrounding the building on all sides. To the left of the church building is a row of confessional booths and pairs of chairs set up along the side of the church for confessions. And the crowd lining up for confessions is seemingly endless.

There is also a very strong Marian devotion in Medjegorje; I think that this devotion to Mary is one that leads people towards Jesus and towards a more selfless life of love. On Saturday night we went to Adoration and were lucky to get there when we did (almost 30 minutes before the service started) because we were just able to get a spot standing in the back of the church. During the service we, people from all around the world, joined together in song- singing in different languages as one voice of praise. It was amazing because they showed the words of the songs (each verse in a different language) that just about everyone joined in, trying their best to sing Spanish, Italian, Greek, etc. But what was most amazing was how the entire church, both inside and outside of the building, raised their voices just about as loud as possible whenever the chorus came: "Alleluia!" And as I stood there, in between an Italian man and a woman from Bosnia, it struck me that our international word- the word that we all know and need absolutely no translation for- is Alleluia. We are, as a community and as a Church, people who rejoice.

While reading for a class on the train ride from Ancora back to Rome I came across an interesting fact: The very first word which ushered into existence Christianity in a formal way was "Rejoice." The first thing that the Angel Gabriel said to Mary- "Rejoice!" And we too are met with that same challenge. And for me this past weekend was a great opportunity to do just that. In seeing the massive amounts of people coming together to pray and in seeing their generosity, willingness to work on their relationships with God, and their joy, and in growing closer to my brother seminarians, I was all the more renewed in my desire to be a priest- someone who

lives no longer for myself but for reconciliation, for peace, for love, for others.

When we got back to Rome and I had a chance to look at the news I was devastated to see what happened in Baghdad yesterday. It was jarring to come from the peace and joy of Medjegorje to this very bitter reality of division in the world. And in prayer down in the chapel I realized that this effects all of us. All of us were in that chapel in Baghdad, united in praise of God. All of us were in that chapel in Baghdad participating in the sacrifice and rejoicing of the Mass. And so how do we respond? How do we support one another? How do we reach out to those for whom coming together to pray is an action of immanent danger? Based on the experiences of this past weeked for me, I'd say that our only response is love. The only response that we can offer is love-- love through prayer for all of those involved. And also, part of our response I believe, ought to be love for one another. A very real love lived out within our families- as we come together as families in prayer and supporting one another, and in our neighborhoods, our work-places, our parishes, etc. We respond and transcend hatred and division through love. It is the only just response.

Called to Communion

One of the greatest graces that I have received since saying "Yes" to the call to enter formation to become a priest in the Archdiocese of Baltimore has undoubtedly been the people that I have been with-- the people who I have encountered, the people who I have learned from, the people who I have prayed with. There have been few joys that can compare to the joy of looking out into a congregation while serving at Mass, knowing them and knowing that we are all there at that moment and at that time together for one single purpose- to worship God. And the God that we worship is a God that we know. In Christology and Spirituality courses I have learned that our knowledge of God (gained through direct encounters with God and through the witness of others) feeds and gives deeper meaning to our love for God. And I can say that the people that I have met in formation have definitely helped me to know God more personally and as a result to want to give myself to God more totally and more lovingly.

I am incredibly grateful for the people that I have had the privilege to know and learn from- whether they be in the heart of Baltimore City, in Kingsville, or out in central Maryland. I am also incredibly grateful for the seminarians that I have had the privilege to accompany in worship, learn from, and be formed with. Above is a picture of my classmates and I—just under 60. And the community here at the seminary, including priests and, is around 300. That is a lot of people; a lot of people with strong faith and a tireless willingness to serve. We spend a lot of time together- whether it be eating, playing sports (by the way—any given day here there is something going on out on the sports field: soccer, football, rugby, frisbee, basketball…) studying, socializing, traveling, etc. But the vast majority of our time together is in prayer; and it is in this prayer together that we build the foundations of our community-- a community that exists for the sole reason of preparing us to serve, to exist entirely for others. And so our concept of community far transcends 300. It consists of every single person- who we believe is with us at every single communal prayer; every Eucharist.

In 1997 a seminary in Rwanda was attacked. The attackers broke into the seminary in the darkness of night and gathered the seminarians together in the courtyard. They then demanded that the seminarians divide into their ethnic group- Hutu or Tutsi. The seminarians knew that the attackers would surely kill one of the groups; and therefore refused to divide. They refused to be separated from their brothers and all 40 of them laid down their lives for one another and for the communion that their faith calls them to embody.

Today thousands of people gathered in St. Peter's Square here in Rome for the canonization of 6 saints. Due to our Aussie brothers here, most of our eyes were turned to the massive influx of Australians who have come to Rome to celebrate together the canonization of the first native born Australian saint. This canonization is the culminating moment for all of the Aussies who have come together as a nation and a church in gratitude for Mary of the Cross.

Seeing the massive amounts of pilgrims who had come to Rome for this occasion reminded me of my first trip to Rome in 2000 for World Youth Day, when a group of about 150 from Baltimore joined over 2 million other pilgrims from around the world in celebration of our faith and the communion that we share. It reminded me about how vast our Church is; and about how deep the communion of all Christians and all people of faith is.

One thing that I am coming to realize is that being a Christian requires that we daily lay down our lives for one another in our faith. Being Christian requires that we spend ourselves. Last week we, as a seminary and as a church, celebrated the ordination of our 3rd year men to the deaconate. As a gesture of their surrender of self in service to God and to others they lay prostrate on the ground as the church prays that the saints join in the communal prayer over these men.

May we join with them in spending ourselves daily for others as we live out the Gospel. And may we join the Rwandan Martyrs in their refusal to be divided. May we as Christians stand together. May we work tirelessly for communion- in our families, our schools, our parishes, our neighborhoods, at work; and in every moment may we answer the call to communion.

Living Icons

I spent the past week in a town called Greccio with my classmates on a silent retreat. The week was awesome and was certainly filled with several meaningful insights and a continuous current of peace that did a lot for me personally to confirm who I am, for whom I am, where I am, and why I am here. A major aspect of the conferences was recalling the many heroes of our faith who have served as icons- becoming themselves, through their actions, an image that points to God. One of these icons that I have been learning more of and consequently feeling myself closer and closer to has been Vincent DePaul. Part of my growing interest in and admiration of St. Vincent DePaul has been due to the opportunity to reconnect with an old friend of the family and fellow parishioner at St. Stephen- Fr. Greg Gay, CM. Fr. Greg is a Vincentian who works in Rome, continuing the work and following in the footsteps of Vincent in more ways than one; and it has been an incredible blessing to be here in Rome while he is here and spend time with him.


I took this picture during the 350th anniversary celebration of St. Vincent DePaul's life in St. Peter's Basilica- just before leaving for retreat. This celebration was incredible- so many people from around the world gathering together to thank God for sending his servant, their servant, Vincent. And in a very real way, they gathered also to thank the living icons of Vincent who have impacted their lives. There were people there from all over Europe and beyond and they were from all different walks of life- some old, some young; some rich, some poor; some ordained, some lay; some in religious life as sisters, brothers, and priests; and some interested in learning more about the faith. But there was a common thread to all of them, I believe, and that was that all of them truly believed in their heart of hearts in the indispensible and unconquerable dignity of charity; and in the unfailing triumph of the truth which is love over evil.

During my first year of teaching at John Carroll, Fr. Greg came to visit with and talk with some of the students. One of the students asked him the question, "From all of your travels and the work that you have done, what do you think is the greatest issue or problem facing the world?" Fr. Greg, without hesitation responded, "The true respect for life." He went on to share stories of individuals, families, and communities who he had met who had been the victim of racism, political and religious persecution, etc. Fr. Greg, who has devoted his life to living the Gospel by joining and serving the poor, then went on to address the students directly and tell them that their role in working for justice and recognizing human dignity and a respect for life was absolutely indispensible.

On St. Vincent DePaul's feast day he is quoted in the Office of Readings as saying, "With renewed devotion, then, we must serve the poor, especially outcasts and beggars. They have been given to us as our masters and patrons." This was the effect of Fr. Greg's words to the students at John Carroll and it seems to have been the effect of the many 350th anniversary celebrations of St. Vincent DePaul that took place around the world.

This is such an important part of who we are as Christians. We who worship and can identify with Christ who was born as an entirely dependent child; Christ who worked for a living; and Christ who was crucified are called from the depths of our being to stand in solidarity and community with the poor and the outcast- those who are on their crosses today, in our midst- to join with them in their work for justice and their worship of God. And in so doing we become for others, and sometimes for ourselves, living icons that point to God Himself. We must never forget this importance and the importance and intentionality that we are called to give to preaching the Gospel. Francis of Assisi, since this is his feast day, once said, "It is no use walking anywhere to preach unless our walking in itself is our preaching."

Here is a picture that I took from the front of the Gesu- the Jesuit church in Rome where Sts. Ignatius and Francis Xavier are buried. On the front of the church building there are two statues- of Ignatius and Francis, both inside of a domed space, much like this one. Both Ignatius and Xavier were living icons who built community and devoted themselves to building justice through faith. But above the two statues are two more spaces. Two spaces left empty. I like to think that those two spaces were left empty in expectation of being filled. Possibly filled by a statue of you.