Infinite Mercy, Part II: St. Therese, the Plumber, and Perspective

I am writing this post on my living room couch, in the middle of the day, as the plumbers I called this morning make a repair in my basement.

I should be freaking out, but I'm not... because God is merciful!

Generosity: The Antidote to Independence

"America: the land of the free and the home of the brave."

Independence is something we celebrate, and rightly so.  Our freedom is given by God, recognized by man -- and the continuation of that recognition is key. But I think that sometimes -- for me, at least -- too much value is placed on independence in the wrong circumstances. Lately, the difference between independence and freedom has become increasingly clear to me.

Growing up, I always saw independence as something to strive for, something to earn that meant I had finally "made it." I longed for the day when I wouldn't need to have someone to drive me, or sign permission forms, or provide for my every need. Later, I longed for the independence of having my own classroom, without a professor popping in to check on me. Then, after spending two years living with my family, but working full-time, I longed for true independence: my own home.

At the end of the summer, I purchased my first home. The first week of August, I moved in; school began the second week. In the meantime, a close friend accepted a job nearby and also moved into my spare room. It was a whirlwind to say the least... and I could not have done it on my own.

I find it beautifully ironic that my first month of "independence" has been the biggest testament to the fact that I am created to be dependent on others... and on Another. In my stubbornness, I tried to be independent. But I have been struck by the generosity of others. For example:


- Two friends surprised me when they showed up at my house after an evening of bowling to help me move -- at 11:30pm on a Monday! (One was also preparing to depart for her study abroad, which made her sacrifice even more beautiful.)

- Two friends gave up their Saturday morning to switch out an old washer and dryer for newer appliances. They came at 8am, disassembled the banister, removed the door, switched the appliances (carrying them up the stairs by hand), hooked everything up, and reassembled the railing with some minor repairs to make it more stable... all in just about an hour. Payment? A glass of water and a promise of a return favor sometime.

- I came home from running some errands one Saturday to find my neighbor mowing my lawn... weed-eater and everything. "Hi, I'm Tim... figured you didn't have a mower yet. Welcome to the neighborhood."

- An elderly gentleman down the street came to the door to ask if I went to church and to invite me to the Baptist church down the block where his son preaches. His wife has Alzheimer's, and his daughter came to stay with her while he went out to visit -- and he took that time to come to meet me and evangelize!

- I needed some help with a particular struggle and asked my pastor if he had any time "in the next week or so" ...and he made time the next morning, on his "day off," when he was leaving on vacation the next day.


These are just a few of the many experiences recently that have given me a much-needed reminder that I do not make myself. If I am here, it is because there is Someone else making me. If I do something, it is because of Another who gives me the opportunity. I so frequently get caught up in "chasing the dream" that I lose sight of Him who gives me my desire and the means to pursue. I am so grateful for these reminders and all the people who have been given to me to help me on this journey... because, really, I need their help.

May we all discover the freedom that comes with being wholly dependent on Him who gives us every moment of every day!

The Rhythm of Life

I am not a patient person. I am always on the go and spend an alarmingly large percentage of my day multi-tasking. My to-do list is always growing, and since I tend to procrastinate, I work well with deadlines and check-points along the way. I am always looking for the most effective and efficient way to accomplish tasks, and when others do not do the same, it is all too easy for me to become very impatient and quite frustrated.

Clearly, this poses a problem in my life. (Well, several, actually...)

See, God is not limited to time. And since my concept of time does not match up well with God's infinite timelessness, and I recognize that my plans for my life are not always in line with His plans for my life, it is all too easy for me to become confused, lost, and frustrated by my lack of knowledge and understanding.

"God, I know Your plans are infinitely greater than what I can even imagine for my life. I trust in you. But I'm anxious... could you please somehow show me what you have in store for me? Give me a quick peek, a glance, so that I can know that I'm on the right track... please?"

I remember praying something similar to this at various points in my life, although I don't recall specifically doing so recently. But as He proves to me over and over again, God's time is not my time, and His ways are not my ways. Even though I have not expressly prayed in those words recently, the general idea has been in my mind and heart a lot. When I pray about this, I typically do so with a bit of impatience and frustration -- not with God, but with my inability to see very far down this path, my inability to see where I am going.

But when the memory of this prayer came to my mind last night, for some reason, I was reminded of my first graders -- and I saw this aspect of my humanity in a new and beautiful way.


Brief sidebar for some pertinent information: Beginning in first grade, my students count rhythm cards every time they come to music class. Level #1 begins with only three types of notes in various combination, and each level either adds a new rhythm or mixes the cards so they are no longer in a progressive, predictable order. A class cannot move on to the next level until they can accurately count and clap the cards in order, listening to each other to stay together as a class and with the steady beat of the music. If there are mistakes or the entire class isn't precisely together, we keep working on it the next class. It takes quite while to pass each level (which can be frustrating for some classes), but by the time those high standards are met, everyone in the class truly has a solid grasp on the skills needed; they are ready and well-equipped for the next task.

The younger classes get very excited about moving on to the next level. Inevitably, every day when we finish the cards, at least one person will excitedly ask, "Miss Michel, did we pass?" -- even if they know they made a lot of mistakes. They really want to have the accomplishment of completing one level and moving on to the next. When they do pass, they get even more excited. In first grade, this news is almost always followed up by a request:

"Can we see the next level? Pleeeeeease??"

I usually comply... in my own joking way. I quickly fan through the stack with my thumb so they can see the print, but cannot actually read the rhythms. Sometimes, I even do it backwards so that they majority of what they see are the blank sides of the pages. (I know, I am so hilarious!! haha) But they keep asking, often bringing more specific requests:

"MISS MICHEL!! Don't go so fast, we can't see them!" (Oh... okay.)

"No, Miss Michel! Go the other way!" (Oops! Sorry!)

"I SAW ONE!! I don't know what it's called, but it looks like..."

"Wow, I wonder what that is!"

I absolutely love this exchange because they are so excited about the things they are going to learn the next time I see them! They know I won't tell them about the new rhythm until next class, but they just want a sneak peek of the future.

Sometimes, they ask to see the final level -- Level #20. When I give into that request, something near awe ensues:

"Oh my goodness!"
"Whoa! That's a lot of cards!"
"Did you see that?"
"What is that??"

And then -- "Miss Michel, can we try it?" I tell them no, they can't skip ahead to the end, they have to go through all the levels before they can get there. They're a little disappointed, but deep down I think they know as well as I do that they aren't ready for level 20. I tell them that we definitely won't get there in first grade -- it will probably take them until 4th or 5th grade to get there. "What?? Fifth grade???" Yes, fifth grade.

See, I know that there are rhythms in level 20 that are simply beyond the grasp of a 7 year old child. Yes, they have a solid foundation, and they can count the snot out of quarter notes, quarter rests, eighth notes, and half notes... but I know they aren't ready for dotted rhythms, sixteenth notes, uneven patterns, and many other things found in that particular folder. I know they will get there, but it will take some time. The levels are broken down in a particular way for a reason: the complexity can be best understood when practiced and explained in small doses. Learn a skill, practice it, perfect it; add another skill, practice, perfect it; then another... It will take a long time, but eventually they will have a very solid and thorough understanding of how rhythms work; they will be able to sight-read, write, compose, and analyze them without trouble. But it takes work, and it takes patience... and it takes time. Lots of time.


Driving home the other night from a wonderful day at our Source + Summit retreat, where I had been doing a lot of thinking and reflecting on my life, I realized that when it comes to the direction of my life, I am EXACTLY like a first grader with those rhythm cards!

"God, am I ready?"
-- Not yet, keep working.

"How about now?"
-- Almost...

"You mean I'm still not ready? Man, this is taking a long time!"
-- I know, but it's part of my plan. Just trust me, we'll get there.

"Can I please see what's coming? You don't have to give it to me now, just let me know what it is so that I know what to expect, what to look forward to down the road. Please??"


The truth is, I know I'm not ready for "Level 20" in my life. I'm in the process, working my way through, learning along the way, gaining the skills, knowledge, and graces I will need for whatever it is that God has planned for me. I am certain that God knows what is best for me, and that His plan is for my benefit. Even if, as His child and student, I think the lesson is taking too long, deep down I know it is probably because there is something I'm missing, something I haven't quite grasped just yet. He won't let me skip ahead because He loves me too much to see me struggle and fail unnecessarily.

Sometimes, I do get a "sneak peek" at what is coming my way, and it is beautiful!! Those moments bring excitement, but also a certain element of confusion: "What exactly is that? What does it mean?" Just like my students, I can get excited about a glimpse -- and there is nothing wrong with that!! -- but the glimpse doesn't necessarily help without further explanation from the Teacher.



Lord, grant us patience and guidance as we continue to learn to trust in You more and more each day. May we trust not only Your plans, but Your timing and methods as well!

Infinite Mercy

Author's Note:


So this one time, I prayed for humility. And God, in His infinite wisdom, decided that instead of simply giving me this grace, He would provide an opportunity for me to grow in humility -- in and through my own freedom. See, God made my heart, so He knows it better than anyone, myself included. He knows that I am a sucker for beauty, and that when I experience beauty in my life, I HAVE to share it with others. (Just ask anyone who ever checks my Facebook status!) So a few weeks ago, God gave me THE MOST beautiful day -- honestly, it sticks out as one of the year's best! -- BUT in order to share this beauty as my heart demands, I must humble myself and admit to my own selfish haste, my severe impatience, my general unpreparedness... things we all struggle with, but which take a little humility to admit publicly. 


But, as always... beauty wins my heart, and I must share! (1 John 1:4) 

*   *   *   *   *

In a conversation a few weeks ago, a friend brought up the fact that she sees even the smallest, most ordinary happenings -- like hitting all the green lights -- as God's mercy in her life. Sure, God shows His love in an abundance of ways, and in the grand scheme of life and all of creation, green lights are really not all that important. But as she pointed out, the gift of arriving at work on time and starting the day off in the correct mindset instead of in a hurried rush of chaos... there is mercy in that.

A few days later -- Friday -- it was my turn.

Saints, Seen and Unseen

I know this post is a bit delayed... but better late than never!!


I should probably begin by saying that I LOVE Saints. I will be the first to admit that I am no expert, but I have been learning about them like crazy in the past few years. Maybe it's due to the fact that I feel that was something we kind of glossed over in religion classes when I was in CCD, so I had to soak up the knowledge from other sources. Maybe it's because I am a person who cannot pass up a good story, and the saints offer no shortage of intriguing tales! Or maybe it's something else altogether. But whatever the reason, the saints simply fascinate me.

Gut Feeling

For the past month or two, I have had a feeling that I simply cannot shake.

Now I must say, I have learned it is not prudent to put too much stock into "feelings" as a method of making big decisions and judging various aspects of life. But no matter what, I just have this gut feeling that something is going to happen in my life. Soon.

Begging for Priests

This is an older post from another blog, but it is a post I re-read frequently because it helps me to reset my attitude and stance in prayer. My "laundry list" of intentions transforms as I humble myself to a beggar's pose, totally relying on Another, because I cannot do it alone.

And today is Thursday, which means tomorrow is Friday... so join us in begging for priests!

*****

Begging for Priests

Most of us resort to begging only when necessary. We see it as a last resort when all other efforts fail. The teenage plea for money begins with flattery then shifts to the use of reason followed by an emotional campaign and, when all this fails, the whole thing collapses into shameless begging.

It's not so different from the way we often approach our relationship with God. Begging is a last-ditch effort to get what we want. But I want to suggest that we take another look at where begging should fall in the timeline of prayer.

Clearly, begging begins with the recognition that what we need we cannot get for ourselves. For this reason I think it should be the first step of prayer rather than the last. To beg is to be aware of what we are capable of and to be aware that we are utterly dependent on Another.

With this in mind, I want to encourage all of us to start begging the Lord for priests. I hope that the religious sisters and brothers will forgive me for being exclusive here, but one of the clear desires that has emerged from the voices of our people is the desire for more priests to tend to our pastoral needs.

So as intelligent people, aware of our own limitations, let's start begging the One who calls young men to be priests. Lets not be too proud to beg and let's not think that we can do this on our own. God calls men to be priests. We can do what we can to help them to hear that call, but we cannot substitute ourselves for the voice of God.

So I am asking you to beg. Specifically, I am asking you to beg every Friday at noon. If you are in adoration, beg for priests. If you are sitting at your desk at work, beg the Lord for priests. If you are in Evansville and you hear the sirens going off for the emergency alert testing, beg the Lord for priests.

Then, once you have begged for priests, consider what you can do to help these young men hear that call. Our diocese needs priests and it needs beggars who are humble enough to recognize that only God can provide this gift.

This is not an act of desperation, it is an act of faith. So Friday, noon, wherever you are...stop and beg for priests.

*****

Fr. Alex Zenthoefer is the Director of Vocations for the Diocese of Evansville... with many other duties and titles, too. Read more of his blog here.

Companions on the Journey

Vittadini doesn't speak much English. Neither do half of the toddlers running around the parish hall -- just bits of Italian and English mixed with excited shrieks, laughing as they share toys and pound on the piano. I had to concentrate a little more than I expected to understand what Fr. Carron was saying, barely three feet in front of me -- not because of the noise, but because of his heavy accent. But then, something that needed no translation: a huge smile, bright eyes... genuine excitement to hear about my career and my life, if only for a few minutes.

As I sit in front of a group of Italians from Illinois, I look over at the Puerto Rican doctor from St. Louis. Directly in front of me, our "guest of honor" - Fr. Carron, a Spanish priest who has traveled from Italy - sits next to his New Yorker guide. To my right, a local priest puts away his iPad guitar and sits down, grabbing his niece as she runs past to save her from being poked with a violin bow or accidentally smacked with a guitar. It's loud and it's crazy, but everyone -- everyone -- is smiling, laughing, talking joyfully with friends.

And then, we sing. First, it's "Country Roads" by John Denver. Then Paul Simon. And Bono. Spanish songs, Elvis, Mexican songs, and an Italian lullaby. Mix in a little U2 for good measure. Then "Joshua Fit the Battle of Jerico," "Proud Mary," a mash-up of "La Bamba" and "Twist & Shout" ...the list goes on. For an hour or so, we sing, in all languages and styles. We lift our voices with laughter and community, simply because we have a reason to sing!

Let me back up just a little. Last weekend, Fr. Julian Carron, the president of the Communion and Liberation Movement, traveled from Italy to spend two days in Evansville on his tour across the United States. Sunday was the big presentation and discussion, but Saturday was a simple celebration of community. Some drove for hours to be there, to be present to the witness of Christ working in ways that only He can.

CL is an ecclesial movement within the Church, and it's aim is to live in a true and serious way, attentive to the presence of Christ in every moment, in every gift, in the longings and desires of my heart. I'm not that great at explaining it, but I know - without a doubt - that it is a gift from Christ that has forever changed my life. Through the movement, I have met people who look at me in a way that I have rarely experienced elsewhere. I have become "instant" friends with people that otherwise, I would probably never talk to - but we recognize that our hearts are the same, that we are all longing for the same Person.

We came from different places: Evansville, New York, Nashville, Indianapolis, St. Louis, Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Italy. There were priests, seminarians, married, single, discerning. Every age range, a wide variety of careers and interests... our differences could go on and on. But in all important ways, we are the same. We are all created by Him, we are all seeking the only One who can satisfy the desire of our hearts. We are all companions on the same journey, we are a community of humanity!

As we concluded the evening with the Memorare, I took note of the multiple languages I heard throughout the room. Even in all our differences - language, life stage, career, home - our hearts are all the same, all thirsting for Him. Really, we aren't that different at all!

"Poor is the voice of a man who doesn't exist. Such is our voice when it no longer has a reason. It must cry out, it must implore that the breath of life never ceases. But it must sing, because there is life! All life pleads for eternity. Our voice cannot die, it cannot end, because it implores its life from Love. So ours is not the poor voice of a man who doesn't exist. It's a voice that sings with a reason."

- English translation of a favorite Italian song, "Povera Voce"

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

A friend shared this article on Facebook, and I simply can't keep myself from sharing with all of you, too - it would be an injustice to keep it to myself. (It is written mainly to those who work with youth in parishes, but I found it extremely relevant to my life... perhaps because I am precisely a young adult who works with youth and other young adults in many areas of my life!)

This article calls to me as a verification of something I know to be true in my life: the call to a challenging life is far more attractive than coasting along "easy street." I have been blessed to have a community of people who daily challenge me to examine my life and live in a true and open way. It is a struggle, but it is a happy struggle (as strange as that sounds) because I know it leads me closer to Christ.

I think this article points out something that resides deep within every human heart: the call to something - some One - greater than ourselves.

*****

Click here for the full article and citations: http://catholiceducation.org/articles/history/world/wh0105.html

*****

Ah, Youth: When the Church Was Young

MIKE AQUILINA

The Church Fathers had a distinctive approach to youth ministry. I discovered it in the course of an afternoon's research.

Scouring the Patrologia Latina and Patrologia Graeca, I found nothing to suggest that Ambrose had ever led teens on ski trips to the nearby Alps. Digging through the Eastern Fathers, I came up even drier — no junior-high dances — not even a pizza party in either Antioch or Alexandria. In fact, in all the documentary evidence from all the ancient patriarchates of the East and the West, there's not a single bulletin announcement for a single parish youth group.Yet the Fathers had enormous success in youth and young-adult ministry. Many of the early martyrs were teens, as were many of the Christians who took to the desert for the solitary life. There's ample evidence that a disproportionate number of conversions, too, came from the young and youngish age groups.
How did the Fathers do it? They made wild promises.
They promised young people great things, like persecution, lower social status, public ridicule, severely limited employment opportunities, frequent fasting, a high risk of jail and torture, and maybe, just maybe, an early, violent death at the hands of their pagan rulers.
The Fathers looked young people in the eye and called them to live purely in the midst of a pornographic culture. They looked at some young men and women and boldly told them they had a calling to virginity. And it worked. Even the pagans noticed how well it worked.
The brightest young man in the empire's brightest city — a teenager named Origen of Alexandria — promised himself entirely to God in virginity. And, as he watched his father taken away to be killed, Origen would have gone along himself, turned himself in, if his mother had not hidden all his clothes. . . .
I searched volumes on the ancient liturgy, and I was unable to find a scrap of a Mass we'd call "relevant" today. There were no special Youth Masses. Yet there was an overwhelming eucharistic faith among the young people of the Church.

What made the Church attractive in the third century can make it just as attractive in the twenty-first. In the ancient world and in ours, young people want a challenge.

Tarcisius was a boy of third-century Rome. His virtue and devotion were so strong that the clergy trusted him to bring the Blessed Sacrament to the sick. Once, while carrying a pyx, he was recognized and set upon by a pagan mob. They flung themselves upon him, trying to pry the pyx from his hands, wanting more than anything to profane the Sacrament. Tarcisius' biographer, the fourth-century Pope Damasus, compared them to a pack of rabid dogs. Tarcisius "preferred to give up his life rather than yield up the Body of Christ."Even at such an early age, Tarcisius was aware of the stakes. Jesus had died for love of Tarcisius. Tarcisius did not hesitate to die for love of Jesus.
What made the Church attractive in the third century can make it just as attractive in the twenty-first. In the ancient world and in ours, young people want a challenge. They want to love with their whole being. They're willing to do things the hard way — if people they respect make the big demands. These are distinguishing marks of youth. You don't find too many middle-aged men petitioning the Marines for a long stay at Parris Island. It's young men who beg for that kind of rigor.
The spiritual writer Father John Hugo told a cautionary tale, not from the ancient Church, but from the German Church of the early twentieth century. Youth leaders faced a country depressed and dejected from its defeat in World War I. Teens seemed aimless, with little hope for professional opportunity and no clear sense of patriotism or other ideals.
The German clergy made a conscious effort, then, to accentuate the positive. They decided to accommodate the country's weakness, avoid mentioning sacrifice, and downplay the cross and other "negative" elements of Christianity. They were big on nature hikes.
At the same time, there arose a man who called upon those same youth to give up everything for the sake of their country. "He put them in uniforms, housed them in barracks — in short, he demanded that they live a hard and laborious life." This man, Adolf Hitler, won the hearts of the youth. Because no young man or woman really wants to give his life away cheaply.
Tarcisius knew better. So do the kids in your parish.
*****

Inseparable

I am in the process of reading The Religious Sense by Fr. Luigi Giussani. (It's a great book, but I would recommend reading it with a group to discuss it, as it is quite a dense read.)

Recently, Giussani quoted a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke. It is truly one of the most beautiful excerpts I have ever read:

Put out my eyes, and I can see you still;

slam my ears to, and I can hear you yet;

and without any feet can go to you;

and tongueless, I can conjure you at will.

Break off my arms, I shall take hold of you

and grasp you with my heart as with a hand;

arrest my heart, my brain will beat as true;

and if you set this brain of mine afire,

then on my blood I yet will carry you.

I read this poem from two perspectives: first, my attachment to God; second, His attachment to me. Nothing can separate us - nothing! There is something inside me that is so intimately connected to the Infinite that no matter what may happen, I am drawn to my Maker. In a sense, it's like a giant super-magnet: this desire for Him is so strong that in the middle of all the "junk" in my life, if I can quiet my mind and focus on this core of being - my heart - I can find this compass.

Perhaps in order to truly follow where God is calling me, I must first look within myself. Not following myself, but following that tug, that desire, that connection between my heart and the Infinite that cannot be severed. By following my heart - not just what I want to do in the moment, but where that tugging desire is leading me - I can follow my calling.

These are just some thoughts I've had these past few days, and I'd like to hear yours. Do you agree? Disagree? Is this too idealistic, or does it seem accurate?

Holy Hunger

There's a line in today's Gospel that really hit me tonight. Jesus has just fed the five thousand, and they're looking for him again the next day because they are hungry. I have two basic interpretations, and I easily find myself in both.

First, the physical hunger: the people don't understand the significance of what has just happened... they just think, "Hey, this guy fed us all yesterday, and now we're hungry again... where did he go, let's find him so we can eat!"

Then, there is the spiritual hunger: "I don't know what it is about this man, but he has satisfied a hunger I did not know I had before I met him. Now, I'm hungry for more - I must find him!"

Obviously, I'd like to say I fit into the second category more frequently, but if I am truly honest... probably not. I think I fall somewhere in between these two, a combination of the two. "I don't know how, and I don't know why, and I can't explain it... but this is what I need. This is what satisfies my hunger - Christ."

Last week, I had a horribly stressful day. By 8:30am, I was nearly in tears; by lunch, my mental to-do list was growing so quickly that I couldn't write everything down; by 3:30pm, I had all but shut down with frustration; at 4:30 I received a proposal that I knew would require more mental and spiritual energy than I could possibly muster. I was exhausted in every way. I had a huge list of things that needed done, a very limited number of hours in which to do them, and only a hint of something resembling a desk under the overflowing mountain of books and paperwork surrounding my computer. My mind told me to sit and be productive, but I could not. My heart - no, my entire self - longed for something else, for the only One who could bring any sense to my crazy, stressful, too-much-to-handle day.

The church was only a few hundred yards from my desk, and I knew nothing else would satisfy the hunger in my heart. So I walked away from my overflowing desk (okay, I rummaged through the clutter for my calendar, phone, and other necessities, threw them in my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and defiantly left the remaining mess for later) and headed to the church for Adoration. And I begged, and pleaded, and cried out for something - anything - because I was so hungry, and yet I had no idea what I needed. I just needed Him.

My prayer wasn't dignified, it wasn't "holy" in the typical, picture-of-a-saint-on-a-holy-card way, but it was the most honest and humble moment I've had in a while... and in its own messy way, it was beautiful. Answers to my problems? No - at least not right away. Comfort in knowing that everything I need is right here in my hand? Yes!

"I don't know how He does it. I don't know how He can feed us all. But I'm hungry, and I'm going to find Him, because His food is the only thing I've found that can satisfy."

Community

This week, I've been thinking a lot about the importance of community in my life and the immense blessings this gift is for me. Last Sunday, I spent some time reflecting at the end of a very full day. Although the day had been busy, every moment was filled with beauty, exhibited in some way through experiences shared with others: fighting back tears at my students' First Communion, a much fuller-than-expected divine mercy service in the afternoon (especially considering the heavy rain), and celebrating Blessed John Paul II's beatification with a seemingly mismatched group of people that only Christ could bring together.

As I drove home Sunday night, I was struck by the realization that I have so many communities that support, guide, and pray for me. My parish community, my school community, my work community, my friends, my family... I could go on. I have come to realize that I am actually quite dependent on these communities. It's not that I couldn't exist without them - I am certain that I could - but it would be unreasonable for me to ignore the gift that has been given to me. I have a community of friends who, through the sharing of their own experiences, continually challenge me to look at my life through new eyes, seeking Christ.

Then I remembered the first reading from Sunday's Mass: Acts 2:42-47 (http://www.usccb.org/nab/050111.shtml). As I thought about what I had just experienced at our "beatification party" - a multi-generational group of unlikely people coming together to celebrate the triumph of Christ, asking questions about faith, the Church, and sharing experiences, laughing, eating, and praying together - I couldn't help but wonder if I'd caught a tiny glimpse of life in the early church.

Thank you, Lord, for the community You have given me! They don't make life easier, but they make it more real.