A Simple Gaze

Lately, in my group of friends in Communion and Liberation, the topic of the “gaze of Christ” has come up multiple times.  How can I see Christ gently looking at me in my daily life?  How does He continue to call me and to gently lead me through my daily experiences?

This question has become increasingly important to me in recent days.  After three extremely busy weeks, I have moved back to Evansville, IN, and taken a teaching job at a wonderful elementary school with a beautiful parish.  It has been very overwhelming and rushed, with many things to do to prepare for the school year (which started a week and a half ago), as well as to move to a new city and a new home, unpacking boxes and getting settled.  It has become very easy for me to get caught up in the busyness and the day-to-day of the working world.  But thankfully, I have friends to remind me that it is in the everyday, in the simple gestures of this life, that we can truly see Christ calling us.

Throughout this time, I have had so many gentle reminders of His presence with me.  Even when I forget at times to turn to Him and thank Him for the gift of this job, the gift of a friend to live with, the gift of a beautiful house to share with her, there are little reminders to help me to stay on track.  I wanted to share just a few of the many little gestures, the times that I have recognized the gaze of Christ upon me:

*When two friends came over late at night to help my roommate to move her large furniture into the house (even after they had had a busy day themselves)

*So many teachers have popped in to my room just to see how I am doing and to see if I need anything

*A friend gave my roommate and I an amazing supply of leftovers so that we could feed guests at our house.  (He even brought a knife over later to cut a watermelon for us!)  From his perspective, he probably just wanted to get rid of those leftovers!  But for me, it was such a simple gesture of charity, that true love of Christ that offers anything that He has for another.

*A 5^th grade student in religion class, answering the question “In 3 sentences, can you tell me who Jesus is to you?” reminded me of the simple truth of my faith.  Her answer:  “Jesus is the good inside of everyone.  Some people just forget about it when they are mean.  I believe that everyone has the same amount of Jesus in them.  They just forget to show it.” 

As St. Therese of Lisieux said, we need to do small things with great love.  Thank you to those who have reminded me, even in this busy time of my life, that Christ is walking beside me, that His gaze is upon me, that I am not alone, and that every thing that I do is for Him. 

Importance of Meaning

As I was sitting at work last night, I was struck by a sudden sense of uneasiness. Okay, I’ll confess, I have had this uneasiness for a while now. Sort of like being stuck in a fog, when I am at work, I go from task to task during my busy shift, very mindlessly, feeling very uneasy about the job. But tonight I was struck with the thought of, “What meaning does this have? What is the point of being here, in this moment, right now?”

I will confess that I haven’t really thought that much about the purpose of my job. I work in a corn processing plant as a lab analyst, analyzing the product as it goes through the process of being turned from regular, hard, Indiana-grown corn into various products, including alcohol, maltodextrin, starch, feeds, and other products. I get so caught up in the everyday testing, the monotony of testing things at the same time every day, over and over and over and over. This question— what meaning does this have?—caught me by surprise.

So I stood there, next to one of the many instruments that we use to do our work, just thinking. And then it hit me—these products we are making, so many of them for human consumption, usage in gasoline, feed for animals—they have to be a good quality. They need to be not just within the processing limits set by our customers, but they also need to be safe, quality, products that I would be proud to say I helped produce. I turned to my coworker and asked her, “Have you ever thought of what the purpose is of this?”, and thus ensued a very nice conversation about how we have to know the purpose of what we do if we ever want it to have meaning for us, and how if it doesn’t have meaning, then why would we even come to work each day.

After that conversation, the rest of my night was so different. It wasn’t just the monotony of work. I approached each test as something important I needed to accomplish. Samples and testing that I normally would have been annoyed by were suddenly not so bad after all. A coworker calling in sick, causing me to have to work an hour over when I was supposed to go home, was suddenly not so bad. Because I knew the meaning of why I was working a 12 hour shift, it suddenly meant so much more. And with that came a desire for more… a desire for my work to mean more. I was different. I was changed.

I think that this should be true in all that we do. If we truly open ourselves up to understand the purpose of what we are doing, the deeper meaning behind our work, our friendships, our circumstances, our time with family, then maybe we will allow ourselves to approach each circumstance and event differently—to be changed! Does that mean that we will suddenly understand the meaning of our existence, of God, and of life in general? Probably not right away, but it will bring us so much more openness to the greatness of life and a gratitude for each circumstance as a gift from God—the presence of Christ among us.

Having a Voice - A Similar Experience

                I took a trip to Chicago for two days through the journalism school at my university, and I just returned today. Overall I’m pleased to say I had a great time, but one event sticks out in my mind now that I’m back at school and have had some time to reflect on the trip.

                This occurrence was actually a two-part event, but I didn’t notice the connection until I sat down to write this. The first part is brief; my group was traveling by bus to see a comedy show, and we drove past a Planned Parenthood clinic. I stared at it for a while, since we were conveniently stopped at an intersection and I had never actually seen a Planned Parenthood clinic before. It looked so . . . innocent. But knowing what went on behind those doors, I made the Sign of the Cross and said a short prayer.

                Later, as my group waited to get into the show, I was looking at T-shirts when I heard the girls in front of me start talking about abortion. I started listening, trying to gauge whether or not I could safely join the conversation.

                My inquiry was quickly answered as each girl fervently pledged herself as pro-choice. They quoted a poster from a small rally on campus, saying, “If you can’t trust me with a choice, how can you trust me with a child?”

                Doesn’t the child get a choice? I thought angrily. I desperately wanted to pose the question to the girls, but I didn’t know what good it would do, plus I was outnumbered. So I held my tongue and continued to listen.

                They brought up adoption, and I had a small sliver of hope until they described it as “barely an option.” Most of those kids end up in foster care because their parents didn’t make the choice, they said, and most foster parents just do it for the money and don’t even care about the kids.

                It took everything in me not to shout at those girls. My family’s a foster family! I wanted to yell. My little brothers are adopted! We even adopted one of them after he was our foster son! How dare you try to say that we don’t care about those kids?

                I held my tongue. Something in me said I wouldn’t do any good by getting angry at the girls. If I had already been involved in the conversation, I would have certainly defended what I believe. However, since it wasn’t my conversation to start with, I don’t think I would have accomplished anything by angrily butting in.

                Still . . . to think that some people really and truly feel that way is rather haunting. To think that behind the doors of that clinic, babies are killed because it’s more convenient for the parents.

                Should I have said something to those girls?

Having a Voice

Have you ever been in a situation where your most deeply held beliefs are being attacked? For example, have you been in a class where a rather rude and loud-mouthed person is arrogantly spouting their ideas about the failings of the Church while you sit there in your seat, feeling your temperature and blood pressure steadily rising until steam may quite possibly emit from your ears and nose? Everyone has had an experience like this, what makes these experiences worse are when nobody steps up to defend the Church. What is worse to you? When you say nothing, along with everyone else, or when you say something and nobody else rises to defend with you?

This quandry of speaking out or remaining silent has plagued me this week (it seems to be a theme!). In each situation I have chosen to speak out. But is that always necessary? As I reflect back on this week, I wonder if my words did nothing else but burn bridges. Perhaps I had prideful hopes of actually changing someone's mind, but it appears that my direct efforts to do so resulted in simply a hardening of the other person's convictions.

So I take a step back and scratch my head feverishly like a rodent and wonder what to do on the matter. This is meant to be an open question to all. When do we speak, and when do we not speak? What is that apparent delicate balance of telling others what we know is right, and living what we know is right? I have no idea what to say on the matter, it puzzles me exceedingly. Thoughts and comments are more than welcome.

Of Rain, Rage, and Regret

Like so many thousands of people in the United States, I embarked on a journey with my college to Washington D.C. for the March for Life. It was the most difficult trip for me by far (and I have been to quite a few). I am used to having a hotel to stay in, access to a shower, a night of solid sleep, etc. It turns out that I had none of those things this time around. I am not saying this to ask for pity, I am saying it to make a point. If I get so grumpy, cold, and uncomfortable during my time in D.C., what urges me to go? What urges others to go who experience the same and worse than me? I cannot speak for the massive crowds, I can only speak for myself. I go because I want abortion to end. I choose to suffer the rain, express my rage, and endure the regret that my country is not doing more to protect the most helpless.

Each trip proves to be an experience for suffering. Perhaps this suffering can be sanctified by offering it in reparation for the abhorrent crime of abortion, as well for those who stubbornly support it despite the truth. It is hard to not be angry at a lot of people for supporting abortion, yet I do not think that anger will solve anything. As cheesy as it sounds, only love can conquer evil. I remember that in one of the movies about John Paul II, a young Karol was speaking to a man named Jan (pronounced "Yahn"). Jan said something to this effect "The Nazis will disappear because evil will consume itself. If they are not defeated by love, the Nazis will simply reappear in a different form."

This little saying is impossibly hard for me to understand. It suggests that in order to defeat with love, we must suffer. More lives must be lost, more embarassment and derision must be endured, etc. It is a hard thought to grasp for a rather vengeful person like myself, yet I somehow believe that it is true. And so we continually march, maybe for decades more as millions more infants die. But I do believe that the Pro-Choice movement will consume itself eventually. It may take years, but as long as there is a March for Life, I will be there grumbling in the rain.

Let go of the rock!

After Mass this morning, as I returned to my bedroom to change into some more comfortable clothes for my day, I just happened to glance out of the window. In stark contrast to the blanket of white that covered everything that I saw initially, what really caught my eye was a very beautiful squirrel that was "hanging out" on a tree right outside my window. I dropped what I was doing to watch him, and I saw him jumping from branch to branch, from tree to tree, until he was able to simply climb down to the ground and go on his way. I was very struck by this scene, a gentle reminder of something that has really been gnawing at me lately.

This week happens to be National Vocations Awareness Week, and as I have been rather half-heartedly discerning a religious vocation for a while, it has struck me that this year my birthday has also fallen during this week. I know that in my own life, I have reached a point of definite restlessness as to where God is leading me in my life. I have gone through a major career change, moving home with my parents, during this year, and it has brought along with it a desire to move forward in discernment, as well as a fear of taking steps in that direction. I know that taking steps to discern with a particular community (I have one in mind that I have visited multiple times) will allow me to truly discern if that is where my life's peace will come, and yet fear takes over, leading to selfishness and walking in the opposite direction.

So, why did the squirrel bring this all back into my mind? My friends in Communion and Liberation (CL) were talking a few weeks ago about a reading in our current book, The Religious Sense, by Fr. Luigi Giussani, in a place where he speaks of a rock climbing trip he took, where he became so overcome with fear that he would not let go of a rock, literally! He held on, even though all those with him even offered to carry him the rest of the way. But he let fear take hold. The evening of CL when we discussed this, we continued to say, "Let go of the rock!" and how that applies to our life. It was also pointed out that if we don't let go of the rock, how can God give us all that He wishes to give? In other words, if my hands are grasping something, how can they be open to receive gifts?

That squirrel in my yard, jumping freely from branch to branch, didn't doubt what was on that next branch. It didn't doubt whether or not it could make the jump, whether it had the strength. It just jumped, trusting that everything would work out for the best. That is a reminder for me to let go of my rock, to trust in God's providence for my life, and to be open to what comes next, not holding on to what is in the past or what I have right now. I have already learned, from my own present experiences, that holding onto the rock will honestly lead to selfishness, a lack of excitement for life, and a lot more doubts!

So, needless to say, yet another reminder of God's grace in my life! Hopefully the grace to open my heart more to Him and to His love. And God-willing, hopefully the grace that when I get back from the Pilgrimage for Life next week, I can once again take the plunge to visit this religious community, this time with an open heart and not my own self-control and fear. Any prayers would be appreciated, and I hope that you also can let go of whatever rocks you are holding on to!


Image Source

The story paraphrased in this post can be found on p.129 of The Religious Sense by Fr. Luigi Giussani.

Look at the Moon!

Almost two weeks ago, I had a great opportunity to go on a cruise with a group of friends. Now, normally I would never think of doing something like that. I was very blessed to have the opportunity, the income, and the vacation days at work, so off I went to the Caribbean. Amidst a ship filled with some pretty amazing things to do (mostly distractions), I found myself going, going, going all day long. From laying out on the deck of the ship, to playing cards with friends, to having a drink in the bar while playing some afternoon trivia, there was always something to occupy my time.

One evening on the ship, however, I was given a reminder of the simplicity of God and the grandness of His love. After dinner, my friends and I went to a bar to listen to a piano player sing and play. After listening to some songs that were just disappointing to me, such as his rendition of Lady GaGa's "Poker Face", my last straw was his ability to sing a song by U2 with no intensity or excitement whatsoever. After a friend got up to leave, I had to follow. I just could not take it anymore.

So we went out on deck. And I was struck by something so simple. The moon was so bright and big. The sky was so clear that hundreds of stars were visible. The water was beautiful with the reflecting light of the moon. I just stood there, staring. About fifteen minutes later, I was still standing there, staring, staring, staring...

And I felt so small. As I looked around at all of the water around me, on this huge ship, with all of life's comforts, I suddenly felt so small, and so insignificant. And I started to think about one of the Psalms that I had recently read.

LORD, what is man that you take notice of him;
the son of man, that you think of him?
Man is but a breath, his days are like a passing shadow.
Psalm 144:3-4

Who am I that this moment should be given to me? Who am I that I should have all of these gifts that God has given? For me, this moment was a reminder of gratitude. In fact, the rest of my cruise experience was about gratitude--for each moment, for each encounter, and for God's grace in my life.

A friend who shared this experience with me on the deck also gave me a different perspective. Even in our smallness, our existence as "merely a breath", a "passing shadow", eventually everything that I saw on that night in the Caribbean will pass away, but what will remain? My heart, my desire, my spirit within me-- that will live on forever!

Thank you, Lord, for the gifts that you have given! During this Christmas season, let's all keep gratitude at the forefront. Thank you, Jesus, for stooping down to earth in meekness and humility to save us!

Rebellion and Obedience

This year's Advent season brings with it a large amount of change for the Catholic liturgy. In my conversations with people, as well as in my observations, I have found a relatively negative perspective of the change. One guy I spoke to in particular hated the new translation because it was not inclusive, it was far too "conservative" in nature, he was of the opinion that it would cause more conflict than unity.
Unfortunately, I am finding this viewpoint to be rather common among people, or at the very least, many of the faithful express mistrust of the translation. I find it understandable that people are not privy to change, even I was slightly uncomfortable at Mass this morning.
During Mass today, as my mind was crowded with annoying thoughts of people grumbling about the new translation, I witnessed something rather simple that was a wonderful blessing to see. I was sitting near an elderly couple, who showed clear difficulty in standing and then sitting, it had to take them a good ten seconds to get to a fully upright position. When the moment came for the congregation to kneel following the Sanctus, the elderly man, who I expected to sit, proceeded to slowly get on his knees for the consecration.
An old man, who had every right in the world to sit because of his age, chose instead to sacrifice comfort for the worship of Jesus. To me, this was a sign of faith, a trust that Jesus is God. I connected this to people's lack of perspective for Jesus in the Mass. We who complain about the translation of the Mass are missing the point entirely. That man's act of faith in kneeling was perhaps about obedience to God. Obedience is a bitter pill to swallow, it takes the highest degree of humility, and in American society, obedience is not a virtue. Showing humble obedience to the Church in Her wisdom to change the translation is difficult, but it is what we are asked to do.
If we naturally rebel, as that man's body did to kneeling, may we find the strength to obey, and slowly kneel before our supreme and awesome God, who matters more than our wants.

Called to Love

Here in the Diocese of Evansville, we have spent the past several months in a bit of a transitional state. Last winter, Bishop Gerald Gettelfinger announced his retirement after faithfully serving our diocese for the past 22 years, and we all waited in anxious anticipation for the selection of his successor. In April, we rejoiced in the appointment of Louisville's (then Fr.) Charles Thompson as our new Bishop-Elect. Countless hours were spent preparing the details of this celebration and all that comes with it. And finally, on June 29, Bishop Thompson was ordained as the 5th Bishop of Evansville.

As I sat in Roberts Stadium with approximately 9,000 other Catholics present for the event, I couldn't ignore the most dominant feeling in the room. There was obviously a lot of excitement for this historical event (covered by 7 different news channels!), as well as the expected reverence and some awe of how the stadium had been transformed into such a beautiful sacred space. But more than anything else, I experienced an overwhelming witness of love.

I was especially moved by the two young men assisting Archbishop Daniel Buechlein, who has struggled with some serious health conditions in recent months. Their patience as they walked him to and from his seat - guiding him by the hand, helping him along with one hand on the small of his back, patiently taking small, slow step after small, slow step - was a tremendous expression not only of deep respect, but of profound love of this shepherd of the church. These three were seated almost directly in front of me, and even the tiniest gestures (such as when one gently repositioned the microphone on his ear as it began to fall) I felt blessed to witness, because they were done with such love.

I thought about how many young people would have grown impatient in that role... and how impatient I become in so many circumstances (most of which are much more trivial and less demanding). Patience and love go hand in hand... actually, love goes hand in hand with just about everything. And sometimes, it is the hardest thing to do! Yet, standing in that stadium, I could not ignore all the love being poured out around me.

The love of the masses of people who had traveled from Louisville to support a priest they have known and loved for many years.

The love of the people in the Evansville diocese who traveled to be a part of this event and support our new bishop, embracing the unknown that is to follow.

The love of the 20 other bishops who came from all over Indiana and beyond to welcome their newest brother.

The love of Archbishop Buechlein, who would not let his health conditions stop him from playing a role in the ordination of his friend; the love of a friendship that was made clear during his wonderful homily.

The love of Bishop Thompson's parents and many family members smiling proudly in the front row.

The love Bishop Thompson has for the good of the Church and its people, and the love made evident through his response to this call to service, even through personal cost.

My eyes were once again opened to the love of a God who not only redeemed humanity, but who also left behind plans for a succession of men He would call to lead, serve, and shepherd His flock. The love of a God who pours out infinite blessings and graces upon those who say to Him, "I know that I can't do this on my own... but I will do whatever it is that You ask of me. I know I am not enough, but please use me in whatever way You can. I am Your servant. So, whatever it is that You place before me... I say YES, because I love Your will more than my own."

Before we can answer any other call, we must first respond to the call to love. To love unselfishly. To desire the good of another, even when it is not convenient. To see the value in others, to see all of creation as a gift from God and to treat it as such. I must love God's will more than my own. I don't know what lies ahead, but I must love enough to trust that it is for good... eventually, at least.

We don't have to master it - trying is the point of the journey! - but we do have to answer.

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love, him, who have been called according to his purpose." -- Romans 8:28