Monthly Archives: April 2017

Certainty in Something Greater

April 2017, , , ,

Emily David, Senior Anchor Intern

We all know the feeling of being overwhelmed. We have lived this pattern of trying to get everything done in a day to get to bed at a decent hour, working right up to deadlines, and then only being able to relax for a bit… repeat. We say we’ll get ahead over the weekend -which probably only happens 5% of the time for me- and then Sunday 10 PM rolls around, and we’re frustrated that we’ve paradoxically neither been “productive” nor honored the Lord’s day of rest. In moments of overwhelming busyness, I tend to remind myself, “OK, this has happened countless times before. You’ve got a few late nights ahead. But it’s all going to get done. It always does. Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good… or done… just get past these papers due Friday… the weekend is almost here…” and so on.

Photo by Barbara Johnston

How many times have we found hope in the next thing? To what extent does having something to look forward to fill us with some consolation in the present moment? Reflecting on this has taught me two things: 1) I seek hope in something beyond myself, and 2) I want joy and consolation now. “Once I make it to Thursday after this exam, I’ll be OK.” But don’t we want to be OK now, on Tuesday? Don’t we want to live now? Something so much greater, something beyond ourselves promises life now.

I just returned from Rome where I led the Holy Week Pilgrimage for ND students studying abroad. It was a week of pure joy, which I carry with me now, despite the work left to do as the semester wraps up. Closing his homily on Easter Sunday in St. Peter’s Square, Pope Francis encouraged us to think about the everyday problems of life and say, “with a humble voice…to God who’s in front of us: ‘I don’t know how this is going, but I’m sure that Christ has risen.’” I could see that Papa Frank was hurting for the world. Yet, there was a peaceful serenity about him: he accepts reality because he is certain of something greater that fills the present reality with hope.

This “something greater” is the resurrection. My certainty is in God’s mercy incarnated in the life, death, and resurrection of His Son. My certainty is in a past event of 2,000 years ago, because the Mystery present then continues to change everything now. We need a yearly reminder at Easter of the daily reality of the resurrection. Similarly, I have certainty that I will make it through my busy weeks and exams because my past experience reminds me that everything will be OK no matter how hard it seems right now. Our remembrance of Good Friday reminds us to acknowledge the real feelings of hopelessness surrounding Christ’s death but to keep our hearts set on the hope of the resurrection that we know will be realized two days later. That one day is meant to help us acknowledge our own suffering while reminding us to seek hope in prayer through our personal “Good Fridays” throughout the year.

Easter at Basilica of the Sacred Heart // Photo by Matt Cashore

Don’t get me wrong, reminding myself that the papers will get done and that the weekend is almost here does help me chug through everything. Additionally, in moments of overwhelming busyness, let’s remember to pray. Just a short, simple prayer: God, please help me to get through this. I place myself and this work into your hands. I know that after praying, I still have work that needs to get done, choices I need to make, and consequences to accept. I may not feel a surge of peace after prayer, but even the simplest prayer is an act of trust that fills my soul with a deeper peace beyond emotions, with strength despite my sleep deprivation. Prayer is a powerful acknowledgment of the One who promises us life right now, of which we are reminded during our Easter celebration. God, “I don’t know how this is going, but I’m sure that Christ has risen.”

God’s Plan for my Lenten Season

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Kate Walsh, Senior Anchor Intern

I remember a certain Lent during my high school years where I stuck to my Lenten sacrifice like glue. I had given up gluten, for several reasons. For one thing, I really love bread, pasta, and baked goods, and knew this would be a tough sacrifice. My other motivation, however, was that my mom had celiac disease, and I wanted to have a greater understanding of her daily sacrifice. God helped me be really consistent that year, and I had a grace-filled Lent that prepared me to welcome Easter with more joy and anticipation than I had ever experienced before! Talk about a shot in the arm for my faith life.

Fast-forward to this year, where I am a busy college senior trying to figure out, among many things, how I want to claim my faith life as my own once I leave this wonderful place. As I prayed about what I wanted to do for Lent this year, I kept feeling a pull to get to know Jesus in a more personal way; I craved to grow in deeper relationship with Him. Because of this, someone suggested to me that I engage in Lectio Divinia every day in Lent. Lectio Divina is a way to read Scripture that involves more meditation and trying to listen to what God wants to say to you through His Word. I made my checklist of which readings to do each day, and was ready to go!

Via Dolorosa // David Swenson

Well, unlike that year in high school, this Lent did not go so perfectly. I fell a little behind on my list of readings, and though I did feel like I was growing in my faith life, sometimes feelings of failure (which should not be what Lent is all about) started to creep in. As I sit here reflecting on the second half of Lent, however, I am realizing that during this time, God was just providing for me in an unexpected yet huge way.

I fell behind on my agenda for Lent in part due to my pilgrimage to the Holy Land. As a campus ministry intern, this trip was my main focus all semester, and going on the pilgrimage itself was an incredible experience. Though the busyness of our days and my jet lag-induced tiredness at night hindered me from sticking to my mapped out reading plan, God was allowing his Word to come alive in my heart in a new way by allowing me to walk the paths of the Gospels. We had the chance to walk the Via Dolorosa, the way of the Cross. At the Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu on Mount Zion, we entered into the events of Holy Thursday by praying in the underground caves where Jesus was held and abused by Caiaphas and his guards. At Calvary, when I was too overwhelmed to know what to do or say, God gave me the time and space to sit and listen to Him. And now, each time I open my Bible or listen to the readings at Mass, my experience of Scripture has been transformed by the gift of my time in Israel.

Church of St. Peter, Gallicantu // David Swenson

So whether you feel that your Lent was a rich time of spiritual growth, or if you fell off the bandwagon several times, do not worry. Jesus has risen from the dead, and never stops wanting you to grow closer to Him! I encourage you, much like you do in Lectio Divina, to just spend time with God and be open to whatever He has in store for you. God’s plan for my season of Lent this year was more incredible than anything I could have planned myself, and for that I am so grateful! As it is written in Constitution #119 of the Congregation of Holy Cross, “Resurrection for us is a daily event…We know that we walk by Easter’s first light, and it makes us long for its fullness.” I will be praying that you have a blessed Easter season and experience the joy of God’s daily Resurrection!

God’s Call to Prayer

April 2017, , ,

Ben Swanson, Anchor Senior Intern 

I returned to campus after spring break with a sense that I had been gone for a very long time. I was on tour with the Glee Club and as we traveled through the American Southwest (enjoying every moment of it) I was left with very little time to pray. During the day we were either exploring a city or on the bus, and anyone who has been on such a bus for an extended period of time knows that it isn’t the best place for silent reflection or prayer. It is noisy and busy and exhausting. In the evening we would have a concert, visit with those who were hosting us, and then promptly collapse exhausted into sleep. Overall it was a week that did not lend itself to a consistent prayer life. And I felt it. When I returned I knew that I needed to pick up where I left off. I knew that I should go to Adoration in the CoMo chapel, or at least set aside some time to pray and center myself back into an awareness of God. The problem is that I really didn’t want to. I felt just a little bit lost and something kept convincing me to go do other things. This continued on for a week where some voice kept calling me to prayer but I kept myself away.

 

Photo by Matt Cashore/University of Notre Dame

Eventually, I made my way into a chapel by overriding strong hesitation and forcing myself to make an effort. I sat down and began to pray. I knew that something was different. I felt foreign and distant from my prayer. It was like seeing a very old friend again and not knowing what to say because there is simply too much to say. I didn’t know whether I should apologize for my absence or be angry that God didn’t do more to pull me in sooner. It was in that chapel, in that moment of ambiguity in prayer, that I realized something remarkable. God didn’t feel distant from me. He felt as close as ever. I looked back across this week of hesitation and I realized that God had been pulling on my sleeve, flicking my ear, and reminding me constantly that I should be praying. At the time I thought it was just annoying. I was angry with God for not calling me back to prayer while at the same time I was annoyed that a little voice in my head wouldn’t let me just go my own way in peace. I didn’t realize until later that God was that little voice. I realized that I had been talking to God all week. I had been telling him: “I know that I should be praying, but just give me a day or two.” I asked God to wait for me, that I would be back soon.

Photo by Matt Cashore/University of Notre Dame

God did wait for me. He was there waiting to hear everything I had to say or to sit with me in silence whenever I was ready. But God wasn’t going to just let me wallow until I happened to find my way back. He was constantly pulling and calling out to me. He told me time and time again that I would find joy in coming to Him. I couldn’t find my way back to prayer except through prayer. Only God could be the source of a relationship with God. I wasn’t going to find that through ignoring him. I have often had long periods of time where I cannot hear God or it seems as though God cannot hear me, and I know that I am not unique in this. In these moments we are filled with the temptation to run and hide. We think that wherever God is he doesn’t want to hear about our problems. He’s probably angry with us and we need to fix things before presenting ourselves before Him again. The beauty is that God, whether we feel close to Him or not, is always with us. He is always calling us to Himself. We hide ourselves from Him and dress Him up in all sorts of disguises so that we may ignore his call for a moment. But God does not ignore us, even for a moment. He hears us and sees us in every moment of our lives. He waits for us to hear His call so that He may welcome us with open arms into the joy of His love. In a little over a month I will be leaving Notre Dame and I know that I will encounter more “tour bus times”, those periods when prayer is neglected for a while. I know that I can take hope in the fact that God will always be calling me back to him and waiting for me with open arms.

I Don’t Know How Big a Mustard Tree Is

April 2017, , , , ,

Thomas Wheeler, Anchor Senior Intern

“By this is my Father glorified, that you bear great fruit, and so prove to be my disciples.” (John 15:8).

Evangelization is a word that a lot of Christians get super excited about. Spreading the gospel! That’s what Jesus wants me to do, and that’s what St. Paul did, right? Sign me right up for that! But what do we often think we would do to achieve this high aim of preaching the gospel to all the nations? We look to the great saints like John Paul II and Mother Teresa whom God has blessed us with in this generation, who look like superheroes of love in a postmodern and anti-religious world. We see some of our fantastic theology teachers here at Notre Dame who live out their faith and inspire us through their brilliant minds and lectures. We look back to our times at conferences and retreats, where the talks and sessions, combined with powerful experiences of prayer, fill us with the zeal to go forth and proclaim the gospel to all nations.

Here at Notre Dame, many people who dream of using their education and talents to make drastic impacts on our society, our nation, and the world. Studying with engineers, I run into a lot of people who want to help design more efficient and innovative structures, compounds, and methods within their respective fields. And yet, the majority of people do not end up producing “game-changing” technologies and “never before seen” machines that will live up the expectation of making the world a better place.

Within the realm of evangelization, I know I have definitely fallen into this temptation as well. I sometimes find myself desiring to be the new prophet to the nations that will bring the whole world to understand God’s love for them. I want to be the one to convert droves of high schoolers to Christ through my passionate talks and dulcet tones as a worship leader. I want to be the one who knows all the apologetic responses to the pagans and non-believers who do not see the God who sits right before their eyes. I want to be the one people know because of the great parish mission or retreat that I put on that caused them to drop their nets and surrender their life to Christ. I want to be the one who writes that great book on the spiritual life that people will continue to read until the Second Coming. I fall into thinking that evangelization is all about the big things: giving talks, fighting off false prophets, teaching classes, and writing books.

But looking at my life, I know that this is not even the norm for evangelization or how people come to know the gospel. Speakers, theology professors, and other Christian “celebrities” are all great people and have shaped my life. However, my faith did not sprout from a single prophetic message, but from discipleship.

In his book, Set All Afire, Louis deWohl depicts the life of St. Francis Xavier, including his time in university before his conversion. Francis and his college roommate, now St. Peter Faber, are described as typical party-goers, good at athletics, and thriving in the successes of their academic life. One day, they are forced to add another roommate to their living quarters: an older student who would later take the name of Ignatius (of Loyola). At first, Francis and Peter despise the pious Ignatius, who always seems to be at peace, no matter what sort of drama and stress their school-life is putting them through. However, eventually, the two of them begin to question Ignatius and have conversations with him about where his joy and peace comes from. Thus begins the relationship and discipleship through which Ignatius, over the course of many years, leads them to know Christ. Peter Faber later becomes the great Christian teacher and the first priest of the Society of Jesus; and Francis Xavier becomes the first Christian missionary to successfully bring the Gospel to East Asia, impacting countless lives.

Simple discipleship and relationship is the norm of evangelization, and Jesus even demonstrates this in the Gospels. He gives great sermons and heals many lives, but he spent even more time investing in his closest disciples, who would become the foundation for the Church he planned to build here on Earth. Jesus still works to spread his message through the people who have mentored us and invited us into discipleship. Through the Life Teen missionary that led my friends and I through Bible Study during my senior year of high school, Jesus showed himself to me in a simple relationship, but has profoundly worked in my heart to continue to lead others to Christ in the same way.

I am reminded of the parable of the mustard seed, which we have all heard and read so many times before:

“The kingdom of God… is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.” (Mark 4:30-32).

It is easy to discard relational ministry and discipleship as something too simple to affect enough people to actually make an impact on the world around us. We would much rather seek our vocation in ways that directly impact large masses of people, but in fact, we can never know the gravity of leading a single person to Christ through relationship. Most people are called to married life, and even the conversion of a future father or mother impacts the entire line of their descendants, who will likely be raised in a household where faith and love of God comes first. Ignatius could not have known how the relationship he had with Francis Xavier could have born fruit in the conversion of entire islands in the Indian and Pacific Oceans. But Jesus knew the importance of spending time discipling the Apostles, teaching them not only by his words, but with his entire life. If we want to change the world and set it ablaze with the love of God, we must imitate Christ’s example and commit to a life of discipleship, both in following him, and in leading our friends to him.