All posts by Michael

I Don’t Know How Big a Mustard Tree Is

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.

The Tomb: Where Jesus isn’t.

Erica Pereira, Anchor Senior Intern

This spring break, I was lucky enough to go on pilgrimage to the Holy Land with Campus Ministry. I was so excited for this trip because we were going to the place where Jesus was! Where he ate, walked, talked, died and rose. I went to the Holy Land expecting to grow in intimacy with Jesus. I certainly did, but not in the way that I expected.

At the end of our trip, we had the opportunity to participate in an all-night Vigil at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. The Holy Sepulcher is the church that contains both Calvary and the stone where Jesus was laid and rose. We celebrated Mass in preparation for our vigil and the priest helping to lead our pilgrimage reminded us in his homily that at the Holy Sepulcher we would be visiting the place where Jesus isn’t. I sat there for a minute to try and really understand these words. But wait; didn’t I fly thousands of miles to be closer to Jesus? To be in the place where he was?

The Church of the Holy Sepulcher / David Swenson

Once we arrived at the Holy Sepulcher, my friend Marissa and I decided to wait in line to see if we could enter the tomb. As we inched closer and closer to the small and low entrance to the tomb, my heart began to race as I approached the place where Jesus isn’t. We entered the small, dark space, and we were with the stone where Jesus was laid. Then I deeply understood. He isn’t here. He is alive! My heart was like fire burning within me as I was filled with the joy of the Resurrection. Seeing the empty tomb made the Resurrection even more of a reality, and my joy overflowed. I could hear the angels saying, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen!” (Luke 24:5).

I came to the Holy Land thinking that I would be moved by seeing the places that Jesus was and is. But the place that most struck me was where he isn’t: the empty tomb.

The Tomb / David Swenson

Since I saw where Jesus is not, I have a desire to see where he is. Throughout my pilgrimage, I continuously saw and continue to see where Jesus is. Jesus is in the multitudes of people that passed by us in the busy streets of Jerusalem. Jesus is in my fellow pilgrims who prayed alongside me. Jesus was in every Eucharist that I ate and every Blessed Sacrament chapel that I encountered. And he is there because of the empty tomb, because of the Resurrection.

I don’t have to go to the Holy Land to encounter Christ. I am already where he is: in front of the Blessed Sacrament, and among his people. At Mass, I receive the living Christ and he is alive in me. The life of each individual is witness to the Resurrection. We are to live as Christ lived: not in the tomb, but alive in him.

Jesus, I Trust in You

Bridgid Smith, Anchor Senior Intern

As an Arts and Letters major I take great delight in reading hundreds of pages by multiple authors that cover a variety of topics, finding the common threads in all of them, synthesizing the most important points and finally focusing in on crucial themes. Though it can be a somewhat taxing process – one that a person might be tempted to skirt by seeking summaries – it does involve an element of excitement and discovery when that “light bulb” moment comes and things just begin to make sense and fit together.

Carrying over this practice of finding common themes over to my life in relationship with Christ I’ve noticed that trust has been coming up over and over again. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I’m a second semester senior and really have no idea what I’m doing next year.  It’s comforting, I guess, to say “I trust that something will work out,” but stopping there would be selling trust much too short. The simple prayer, the mere five words Jesus, I trust in you have kept me rooted in faith despite all of the heartache, uncertainty, restlessness, and doubt that comes in college. Though sometimes I believed it and other times I struggled to do so, I’m learning more and more that cultivating trust in Jesus has impacted my time at Notre Dame more than I will probably ever know.

When I felt lonely and isolated and absolutely overwhelmed as a freshman who didn’t know anyone, I prayed Jesus, I trust in you. I trust that you have brought me to this place and you will not abandon me.

When I was rejected or things didn’t go according to my plans, I surrendered and said, Jesus, I trust in you. I trust that your plans are greater than my own.

When I felt heartache and hurt I turned to Jesus and cried, Jesus, I trust in you. I trust that You will bring healing and peace in your perfect time.

In schoolwork, in summer experiences, in community, in friendships, Jesus has asked me to trust in Him, to trust in His plan, to trust that He is who He says He is and works all things for my good (Romans 8:28).

And He has shown me that this trust, this hope in Him does not disappoint (Romans 5:5). He has opened windows when doors closed. He has led me to friends that make me more of who He created me to be. He has healed brokenness I never thought possible. He has helped me find a community I feel so blessed to be part of. Cultivating trust has not meant my life is somehow magically easy and smooth: I still have lonely moments; I feel uncertain; I definitely haven’t learned to avoid hurt or heartache.  And yet cultivating trust has transformed these things from being mere obstacles in faith to occasions for my faith to grow stronger. Taking trust in Jesus seriously has been one of the most painful things I have ever opened myself up to but it has also given rise to a peace and joy and confidence in knowing that I am loved, protected, and never left alone.

The theme of trust in my life is very much a daily endeavor, a work in a progress.  I must constantly remind myself to trust in Jesus. The following prayer has helped me to nourish this trust, to make it more and more a part of my life. I pray that in some way it might do the same for you.

 

The Litany of Trust

From the belief that I have to earn your love

Deliver me, Jesus

From the fear that I am unlovable

Deliver me, Jesus

From the false security that I have what it takes

Deliver me, Jesus

From the fear that trusting You will leave me destitute

Deliver me, Jesus

From all suspicion of Your words and promises

Deliver me, Jesus

From the rebellion against childlike dependency on You

Deliver me, Jesus

From refusals and reluctances in accepting Your Will

Deliver me, Jesus

From anxiety about the future

Deliver me, Jesus

From resentment or excessive preoccupation with the past

Deliver me, Jesus

From restless self-seeking in the present moment

Deliver me, Jesus

From disbelief in Your love and presence

Deliver me, Jesus

From the fear of being asked to give more than I have

Deliver me, Jesus

From the belief that my life has no meaning or worth

Deliver me, Jesus

From the fear of what love demands

Deliver me, Jesus

From discouragement

Deliver me, Jesus

That You are continually holding me, sustaining me, loving me

Jesus, I trust in you

That Your love goes deeper than my sins and failings, and transforms me

Jesus, I trust in you

That not knowing what tomorrow brings is an invitation to lean on You

Jesus, I trust in you

That You are with me in my suffering

Jesus, I trust in you

That my suffering, united to Your own, will bear fruit in this life and the next

Jesus, I trust in you

That You will not leave me orphan, that You are present in Your Church

Jesus, I trust in you

That Your plan is better that anything else

Jesus, I trust in you

That You always hear me and in your goodness always respond to me

Jesus, I trust in you

That You give me the grace to accept forgiveness and to forgive others

Jesus, I trust in you

That You give me all the strength I need for what is asked

Jesus, I trust in you

That my life is a gift

Jesus, I trust in you

That You will teach me to trust You

Jesus, I trust in you

That You are my Lord and my God

Jesus, I trust in you

That I am Your beloved one

Jesus, I trust in you. Amen.

~ Sr. Faustina Maria Pia, SV

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.

Hope to Bring

Adam Wood, Senior

“We must be men [and women] with hope to bring.”

I think about these words from Constitution 8 of the Congregation of Holy Cross every day as I drive onto campus and begin my search for a parking spot. Statistically speaking, there won’t be an open spot for me at the front-most part of the lot.  Considering it’s already 1 p.m. and I’m just getting to campus for my first class, I probably don’t deserve one. But this is a Holy Cross institution, and I’m a man of hope! So you better believe I make a pass through the section with the best spots, even if prior experience says I’m wasting my time.

As Notre Dame students, we hope for a wide variety of things. We hope for a seat near an outlet at the library, we hope the line at Starbucks is short, and we hope to win a coveted RecSports championship tee shirt. We hope that we can score a ticket to the Keenan Revue, a date to a Dome Dance, or a part in the PEMCo show. We hope that our duct tape and plywood vessels don’t sink in the middle of the Fisher Regatta. We hope that the Irish will do better than 4-8 next season. We hope we can manage to finish two problem sets, an essay, and an exam by the end of the week. We hope for good grades, good internships, and good jobs when we graduate. We hope that we can find the time to enjoy all of the things this great university has to offer us.

But sometimes, I think, I have hoped for so many things at once that I started to lose hope altogether. I allowed my hopes to transform into stress, and forgot to have hope in the most important thing, or rather, person. All these things that a Notre Dame student hopes for are good things, but the men who wrote the Constitutions of Holy Cross weren’t talking about hope in tee shirts or tickets or even parking spots. They were speaking of hope in the person, Jesus Christ, who transcends and fulfills all of our hopes.

The Cross and Anchors is the symbol of the Congregation of Holy Cross. It represents hope in the Cross of Jesus Christ as our one true hope.

Many times in my four years here I have let stress overwhelm me to a point of despair. Over time, however, I learned to cultivate hope in Christ and his love for me. I invited him into these moments, and was able to see my burdens more as opportunities for victory. I came to see more of what the Congregation of Holy Cross means by finding hope in the Cross, both the Cross of Christ and the smaller crosses that I bear in my own life. In a student’s life, stressful times are all but guaranteed. We can’t avoid them.  Most importantly, we can respond in the best way possible by having hope in the great gifts we have been given. Take a little inspiration from Constitution 8 of the Congregation that founded Notre Dame:

“There is no failure the Lord’s love cannot reverse, no humiliation He cannot exchange for blessing, no anger He cannot dissolve, no routine He cannot transfigure. All is swallowed up in victory.”

I’ll put my hope in that!

 

With God, There is Peace

Imanne Mondane, Senior, Anthopology major and African Studies minor

In deciding how to center this blog post, I found myself torn between many different topics. However, after debating with myself for long hours, I realized that as a student at Notre Dame (as rewarding as it may be) I am well-versed on a familiar topic: struggle. Most – if not all – Notre Dame students have experienced the universal hardships of living and studying at this top tier university. Whether a failed exam, empty pockets, financial struggles, familial issues, social awkwardness, depression, racism, roommate quarrels, lack of a social life, endless drama, lack of motivation, illness or health issues, we have each been blessed with our own, unique cross to bear. Notice that I said BLESSED. Yes, as hard as it may seem, struggle, strain, tears, hardship, pain, and storms are a part of our life’s blessings. Such moments of great challenge present us with the opportunity to obtain and share our testimony. In these occurrences we experience God’s love, grace, and mercy the most.  Through the storms he is already pulling us out of, we should give him the honor and glory he deserves.

Barbara Johnston/University of Notre Dame

A friend of mine gave me a brief, priceless piece of advice, which motivated me throughout what I consider to be the most difficult week of my entire 21 years of life. After facing disappointment and heartbreak, and shedding a countless amount of tears, I felt that I was in an eternal place of darkness.  I had lost hope for change and deliverance. As I shared this news with my friend, she told me the following: “Christ bore the cross for us. And although things may be hard now and the pain seems endless, there is still beauty in suffering. We cannot reject the tests and trials that God blesses us with. We have to embrace them just as Christ did. We have to embrace our cross because once we embrace it, we are also acknowledging that God is still in control and that our faith and trust in him enables us to hold out hope for the light that always follows darkness.” These words meant the world to me. They not only enlightened me, but they reminded me of the ways in which I had given up on God’s authority and mercy. I had forgotten that his will is greater than anything I can will for myself. Although the situations and feelings of sorrow that I was facing did not end immediately, this reminded me that God is Lord over my life and was enough to fill me with hope and faith in my Savior.  I could worship him through the rough times just as I worship him through my triumphs. Hearing this from my friend, as well as words from my mother reminding me of the victories that God has declared over my life, encouraged me that day and every day to come, and I hope they are able to do the same for you.

Matt Cashore/University of Notre Dame

Always remember that we serve a God who has already declared victory over our lives. There is no mountain that he has not conquered, and no obstacle that he has not overcome. He placed within each of us the will to fight, to persevere, and the strength to defeat the enemy. He has equipped us with the tools to tackle each test and turn it into a testimony. We serve a God who has conquered the world; thus, when you’ve reached your lowest of lows, and the stream of darkness seems never ending, I encourage you to remind yourselves of the following:

“We have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us” (Romans 5: 2-5).