Tag Archives: Eucharist

Food for the Way

Brianna Casey, Senior Anchor Intern

I think a lot about God. I talk about Him a lot, too. But sometimes, I feel that I forget to spend enough time praying with God.

When it comes to ministry, I would say that my approach is primarily a relational one—I try to have conversations with people that may help them to see God in light of their own experiences, in terms that make sense to them. This comes pretty naturally thanks to my tendency to search for connections between everything, including seemingly opposing modes of belief. Similarly, the way I approach my faith is intensely holistic. I feel the need to be able to connect what I read in Scripture with what I’m learning in my biology and neuroscience classes, and to let what I learn from traveling and having conversations with others inspire my prayers.

Most of the time, this approach to faith and ministry proves itself to be extremely fulfilling. Guided by the belief that God is found anywhere there is truth, I have been able to find what connects me to others and what connects us all to Christ. Still, sometimes conversations and internal dialogue like this can leave me feeling mentally and spiritually drained. Inevitably, there are times when the constant questioning and casting my beliefs in new light in search of deeper truth will overwhelm me with how little I really understand. Oddly enough, sometimes my efforts to increase my faith will leave me with more questions and doubts than when I started. However, maybe these feelings are more related to how fatigue at the end of a workout is a precursor to growing stronger, rather than a sign of getting weaker.

Still, at times I think I make the mistake of doing too much talking about God and not enough praying. It makes sense that despite the time I spend learning about God, I can still feel distant if I fail to spend time with Him. The beautiful thing is that once I realize this, all it takes is to spend time with God to intentionally slow down, thank God for what He’s shown me, and ask Him to fill me with His peace. Whenever I am surprised by feelings of spiritual exhaustion, I try to determine if my prayer life has fallen short, and I renew my conviction to spend more time in intentional prayer.

This is also why the Eucharist has been so important in my journey with Christ. Coming to Mass and receiving the Eucharist makes me whole when I feel like I’ve been spread too thin, and centers me back on what is most important. The spiritual filling I’ve experienced through Mass serves as a reminder that, for me, it’s not enough to know about God; I need His presence in order to be refueled and renewed.

While one’s faith journey may be marked by a series of “landmarks”—significant moments of clarity and encounter with Christ that are easy to look back on as shaping one’s relationship with Him—I have learned that the small moments with God are no less important. It is for this reason that Mass and consistent prayer are essential for the active Christian life—for when we encounter Christ in this way, He offers us food to sustain us on our way, allowing us to continue His work on Earth and ensure that we always remain close to Him.

A Work in Progress

Thomas Wheeler, Senior

After an especially tough week last semester, I sat down on a Friday in my hall  chapel to pray Night Prayer. The psalm for the night, Psalm 88, finishes with the line: “My companion is darkness,” which leaves us with a call to faith and to trust in God’s promise of redemption even when we feel all alone.

January 3, 2012; The Symbols of Christ on the outside wall of the Hesburgh Library. Photo by Barbara Johnston/University of Notre Dame.
The Symbols of Christ on the outside wall of the Hesburgh Library. Barbara Johnston/University of Notre Dame.

On this particular night, however, I was not having it. The struggles of school, relationships with friends, a scary and unexpected visit to the doctor, and my (not uncommon) failures at avoiding habitual sin had left me in pieces. I finished Night Prayer and sat in a state that can only be described as worn out and emotional.

I went upstairs, got my journal, and went back to the chapel, but the only thing I wrote that night was “Jesus, I’m done.” That week, I had said my prayers, spent time in adoration, led my small group, helped at Youth Group, and tried to love those around me with an open heart. I tried so hard to be mindful of the goodness of God’s promises and live a life of joyful witness to Christ’s saving love. But at that moment, I wasn’t filled with joy at all. All I could think of was how much pain and stress I had suffered that week. Yet here I was, reading prayers from my book even though my heart wasn’t in it. I felt alone in my struggles, and this last line from Psalm 88 did not help heal the wound.

It was in that moment of brokenness I could feel God telling me, “I want to know.” I felt comfort in bringing my suffering to God and letting him know my weakness, even if I had directly offended Him. I looked across the chapel to the Tabernacle and reminded myself that God does not keep His distance from me. In the Eucharist, He enters me and dwells within me. He knows already, knows everything that is going on inside me, so why not go ahead and be honest with Him about where I am. God doesn’t want me to act like I’m doing alright when I’m not. If I’m struggling, God wants to hear it. And God wants to help.

What I learned from this experience is that through all the times in our lives, especially in the times of our most piercing brokenness, God wants us to be real with Him, because He wants us to know we need Him. It is so easy to go through the motions of prayer, and even to commit to spending a certain amount of time in prayer every day. But none of this amounts to letting Jesus see our wounds, and begin the process of healing them.

It isn’t easy to let Christ into the depths our hearts; to allow him to tear down the hidden walls of pride and sin, and give him the space to build God’s kingdom there. But that’s where holiness lies. We cannot grow in perfect love and joy if we do not first let God perform surgery on our hearts. He fixes what is broken and fills the holes in our hearts with himself.

Even when my relationship with God is stable and my prayer life is flourishing, I am still a work in progress. I am not a saint yet, but I earnestly want to be one. While I know I’ve committed my life to following Christ, I still fail him all the time. But God is still performing surgery on my heart, and the most important thing I can do is let Him see my wounds so He can heal them.

“The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a humble and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.” – Psalm 51:17

Finding God in the Everyday

Kate Walsh, Senior

Barbara Johnston/University of Notre Dame
Barbara Johnston/University of Notre Dame

“Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest” Matthew 11:28

If there is one thing I have come to expect as a Notre Dame student, it is an amazing summer. Despite not being able to see the golden dome on a daily basis, or being deprived of make-your-own-pizza-night at South, I can count on Notre Dame to provide for me in different ways during the summers. But this past summer, my final summer before becoming an alumna of this wonderful University (God willing!) was different. It was not, by my quite high standards, amazing.

My tasks this summer were to take the MCAT. Complete the primary med school application. Drive almost an hour to and from a lab for my unpaid internship. Work on med school secondaries. Repeat.

While I am still grateful for the opportunities I had this summer, and I feel extremely lucky to have worked in a lab near my home and apply to medical school, my overall experience was not as life-changing or fulfilling as say the summer I spent working at my SSLP, or being a small group mentor at Notre Dame Vision. Rather, the daily routine wore me down. Commuting filled me with frustration. As one would probably guess, retelling my greatest challenge and what I learned from it on ten different med school applications exhausted me. And most importantly, I fell out of touch with God. I was so used to the accessibility of Mass and chapels on campus that without them, I was praying much less. But even though I was putting Him to the side, God didn’t forget about me this summer, and one way He showed me was through daily Mass.

If I wanted to, I could have gone to daily Mass at my parish most mornings before making the commute to the lab. Unfortunately, because I typically wanted more sleep, I regretfully didn’t go very often. But one morning I pulled it together and went to 8 a.m. Mass. When I got there, I followed the lead of the almost exclusively elderly congregation and picked my own pew. To begin Mass, the priest started with the Prayer to St. Anne, which alerted me to the fact that it was Novena week. Before I could debate whether it was worth it to take the long walk back to the door to pick up a booklet of prayers, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and a married couple behind me offered me one of their books. It happened so fast that it was nearly a reflex for them, and though my first instinct was to feel embarrassed, I quickly remembered that this was no place to feel self-conscious, so I expressed my gratitude instead, and then was able to recite the prayers that followed in unison with the congregation. That morning, I got to receive Jesus Christ in the Eucharist before I headed off to work. My day was centered on God. My commute was less frustrating, as I thought more about the people inside the cars than the traffic jams produced by the cars themselves. Later in the day, as I was pipetting cells and spreading them on a petri dish, I finally remembered that God really is in all the work we do as long as we do it with Him in mind. After attending just one daily Mass, my day turned out radically different, and it was because God filled me with His Grace after I started my day with Him.

(Photo by Matt Cashore/University of Notre Dame)
Matt Cashore/University of Notre Dame

After that lovely day, I definitely didn’t make a perfect attendance record at my parish’s morning Mass, but the monotonous, tiring days were more bearable with a heart full of gratitude. I focused more on God and prayer and decided to try something new which was to read more spiritual texts. I think God used this summer to challenge me to mature in my faith, since we both know that I only have one year remaining at the University of Our Lady of the Lake. Still, with school starting back up, I am reminded of how challenging and monotonous the days here can be too. I love Notre Dame, and I am thrilled to be back, but I know football season will end and winter will come, bringing with it projects, exams, and stress.

It is possible that you might already feel overwhelmed or in a rut. If so, I urge you to find your own way to spend time, on a daily basis, with God. We are so lucky to have access to incredible opportunities for growing in faith here at Notre Dame, and God wants us to include Him in all that we do. Whether it is attending daily Mass, finding time to light a candle at the Grotto, going for a nature walk with a friend, or reading a book and praying and reflecting on it, there is something you can do every day, alone or with community, to maintain your relationship with God. I promise you there is enough time, and I know that God will bless your busy-ness with His presence. If this summer taught me anything it’s that it’s a lot easier to find God if you give yourself a chance to look.