I can remember a time when I was watching a small child draw a picture. Each time I thought the child was done with the picture I would make a comment about it or compliment him on it only to hear him say, “I’m not done yet!” Truth be told, I was getting impatient because I had no idea what the end result was supposed to look like and to be honest, the improvements that were being made certainly didn’t seem to add anything to the picture’s intelligibility or aesthetic quality. Once the project was finally declared to be done, I looked at it, smiled and said, “wow, that’s really good….what is it?” The young boy was disappointed that I could not tell what it was and then explained the picture to me. The picture was then posted on the inside of my locker at work.
When I moved from a locker to a desk, a different type of art decked my walls. I took up digital photography as a hobby and loved to take pictures of landscapes, cityscapes, etc. just about anything that did not have a person in it was fair game. The pictures that I thought were the best were printed out in 8” x 10” format and put into a simple black frame. The picture was then hung on the wall both for others and me to admire. To me, displaying the pictures was not just showing off my artistic eye (part of it was) but instead it was a statement of what I thought was beautiful. I loved to capture the many colors and details of nature because it is God’s creation and nothing can really top it. Each picture captures the moment precisely and freezes it so that it can be admired. It fits nicely into a frame and easy to consider it complete or perfect (having been done or made to fulfillment).
It is interesting then to consider what each of us considers beautiful. There are those of us like me who like to look at the finished product and capture it in a frame. Others are willing to patiently wait until the young artist is done with his drawing and then exudes great excitement and joy at the marvelous creation. On the one hand, we appreciate the final product and on the other, we appreciate not only the process by which the drawing is made but also our love for the artist. It is this love for the artist that allows a parent to proudly display some of the most hideous looking markings to ever hit paper on the walls of their office or refrigerator.
By now, you probably know where I am going with this inadequate metaphor. Just in case you don’t, let me share with you a few verses from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians:
And he gave some as apostles, others as prophets, others as evangelists, others as pastors and teachers, to equip the holy ones for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until we all attain to the unity of faith and knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the extent of the full stature of Christ, so that we may no longer be infants, tossed by waves and swept along by every wind of teaching arising from human trickery, from their cunning in the interests of deceitful scheming. Rather, living the truth in love, we should grow in every way into him who is the head, Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, with the proper function of each part, brings about the body’s growth and builds itself up in love. (Eph 4:11-16)
I share this verse because it talks about the formation that each of us must go through in order to be further conformed to the image of Christ. We were together in building up this image. In order for the body to mature, each part of the body must also grown and mature. We do not grow without direction, but we grow “in him who is the head, Christ.”
The growing process is not easy (not unique to seminary). Many of us find an excuse not to do it. We want the growing process to be over as soon as possible because we want to display the framed image of the final (and thus perfected) product. We fail to see how each new addition, subtraction, modification adds to the completion of the final image. We become impatient. We want to see the final image and to know what it looks like. We want to know how close the artist is to being done. We resist any further growth because we want to be the fulfillment of that image that he is asking us to be and we want to be it now. Well, at least I do. Instead I think we need to patiently here the Lord when he tells us, “I’m not done yet. Wait until you see what I intend the image to look like. Just trust me. Be the clay in my hands as I mold you into who I want you to be.” And when the picture is done (whenever that may be) or even as it is a work in progress, we can rest assured that God looks on the image of who we are with the loving eyes of a proud Father as it declares it to be “good. It is very good.”
Forgive the rambling. It’s not meant to be that deep of a reflection. The message is really quite simple. Let us be patient with the Lord as he forms us and those around us so that we may be a strong unified body.
Be assured of my prayers.
Pax Tecum,
Tom
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Oppportunity Knocks...
As the Infirmarian (I just noticed that this word is one space away from being Infirm Arian, hah!) for the seminary, I often have people call or stop by my room when they are not feeling well. Normally the symptoms are not that significant and I can get them some antacids, cough drops, or other over the counter medication. I have some supplies for minor first aid and things of that sort.
However, sometimes my brother seminarians will have illnesses that require more attention. Since we live in community, we must be careful when one of us is sick not to spread the virus around the house. Just last week we had two guys down with the flu (medically confirmed cases) and one with another illness that kept him in his room. When this happens, as the Infirmarian, I am responsible for taking the guys their meals, arranging for priests to bring the Eucharist, contacting the seminarian’s teachers, and basically doing anything else I can do to keep them in the room.
Last week I realized some of the psychological effects of locking a guy up in his room for a week. We moved them into the suites that we normally allow our guests to stay in so that they would have a private bathroom, a television, and an overall more comfortable environment. Despite these comforts the guys got quite restless and somewhat agitated. I realized that each time that I came to their room I was not bringing anything that would make their illness go away. I did not have a magic wand that would clear up their symptoms. However, I realized that my presence alone was somewhat comforting. For a week, I was pretty much one of two faces that they would see (the other being a member of the faculty). Often times the only thing that I could bring to them was a meal (usually lukewarm and not what they were looking for), a message from a teacher about a test or assignment (definitely not what they were looking for), bad news in that they were going to be quarantined for yet another day, and a smile. I made a point of trying to smile and bring a sense of humor to the situation. Laughter is the best medicine and, for a second, it takes our minds off the current situation.
I must admit that as the week progressed, it was more and more difficult for me to bring that smile. My efforts at times felt underappreciated. At times I thought that people were taking advantage of me. I was irritated. I was busy. I was in the midst (and still am) of my midterms and had my own obligations on top of caring for others. I was not getting enough sleep. I was constantly bombarded with questions from other seminarians about the condition of those who were sick. My phone did not stop ringing and people were constantly making requests for my time. By Friday, I was glad that all of the people who were sick had gotten better and were either at home or back among the community. We had a free three day weekend so a lot of people went home. I took the time to get caught up on my studies as I had fallen behind from all of the extra activity during the week. The end result is that Sunday night I was exhausted and felt like I needed a break.
I went to bed Sunday night around 9:45pm which is about when I normally went to bed. I heard someone knock on my door at 10pm. I had just fallen asleep and was really tired. I made the decision not to open the door. Whatever the person wanted, it could wait. If it was a real emergency they would knock again or call me on the phone. I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty the next day knowing that I chose sleep over answering the door. Monday night I did something that I have only done one other time while in seminary. I put a sign on my door that said “Do Not Disturb.” I went to bed at 9pm and tried to get a good night’s sleep. When I woke up in the morning at 5:15am I went down the hall to take a shower. Upon returning to my room, I took the sign off of the door. A few minutes after taking the sign off the door, I heard a knock on my door. I remember thinking to myself, “Really? I haven’t even had a chance to get dressed yet.” I put on my robe and answered the door. It was an unexpected request this morning but not something that took any sort of effort. Instead of spending my normal twenty minutes checking the news on the internet, I helped this person and then went to the chapel.
It is days like these that God always manages to speak to me loud and clear in Scripture during Morning Prayer and Mass. In today’s gospel we heard Jesus say to his disciples, “Gird your loins and light your lamps and be like servants who wait their master’s return from a wedding, ready to open immediately when he comes. Blessed are those servants whom the master finds vigilant on his arrival. Amen, I say to you, he will gird himself, have them recline at tables and proceed to wait on them. And should he come in the second or third watch and find them prepared in this way, blessed are those servants.” (Lk 12:35-38).
I am not praising myself for the times that I answered the door to whoever was knocking. I am not praising myself for the many good things that I did for my brothers last week while they were sick. I am not praising myself at all. Instead, I find myself this morning wondering what opportunities I have missed out on to love Jesus by not getting out of bed (both literally and metaphorically) to answer the knock at the door. How many opportunities to love Him did I miss by putting a “Do Not Disturb” sign on my door? How many times have I missed those he sent to me because they did not come on my time table or when I decided it was convenient?
I imagine that as a priest (God-willing) there will be many times where people ask me for my help even when I think that I do not have what they need to be healed. Sometimes people just need someone to care for them. Sometimes people just need someone to listen or to smile at them. Sometimes people just want to know that they are not alone. They do not always knock at your door at the most convenient times, but will you answer the door? I will leave you with one last thing to consider.
“”Let us not grow tired of doing good, for in due time we shall reap our harvest, if we do not give up.” Gal 6:9
Pax Tecum,
Tom
However, sometimes my brother seminarians will have illnesses that require more attention. Since we live in community, we must be careful when one of us is sick not to spread the virus around the house. Just last week we had two guys down with the flu (medically confirmed cases) and one with another illness that kept him in his room. When this happens, as the Infirmarian, I am responsible for taking the guys their meals, arranging for priests to bring the Eucharist, contacting the seminarian’s teachers, and basically doing anything else I can do to keep them in the room.
Last week I realized some of the psychological effects of locking a guy up in his room for a week. We moved them into the suites that we normally allow our guests to stay in so that they would have a private bathroom, a television, and an overall more comfortable environment. Despite these comforts the guys got quite restless and somewhat agitated. I realized that each time that I came to their room I was not bringing anything that would make their illness go away. I did not have a magic wand that would clear up their symptoms. However, I realized that my presence alone was somewhat comforting. For a week, I was pretty much one of two faces that they would see (the other being a member of the faculty). Often times the only thing that I could bring to them was a meal (usually lukewarm and not what they were looking for), a message from a teacher about a test or assignment (definitely not what they were looking for), bad news in that they were going to be quarantined for yet another day, and a smile. I made a point of trying to smile and bring a sense of humor to the situation. Laughter is the best medicine and, for a second, it takes our minds off the current situation.
I must admit that as the week progressed, it was more and more difficult for me to bring that smile. My efforts at times felt underappreciated. At times I thought that people were taking advantage of me. I was irritated. I was busy. I was in the midst (and still am) of my midterms and had my own obligations on top of caring for others. I was not getting enough sleep. I was constantly bombarded with questions from other seminarians about the condition of those who were sick. My phone did not stop ringing and people were constantly making requests for my time. By Friday, I was glad that all of the people who were sick had gotten better and were either at home or back among the community. We had a free three day weekend so a lot of people went home. I took the time to get caught up on my studies as I had fallen behind from all of the extra activity during the week. The end result is that Sunday night I was exhausted and felt like I needed a break.
I went to bed Sunday night around 9:45pm which is about when I normally went to bed. I heard someone knock on my door at 10pm. I had just fallen asleep and was really tired. I made the decision not to open the door. Whatever the person wanted, it could wait. If it was a real emergency they would knock again or call me on the phone. I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty the next day knowing that I chose sleep over answering the door. Monday night I did something that I have only done one other time while in seminary. I put a sign on my door that said “Do Not Disturb.” I went to bed at 9pm and tried to get a good night’s sleep. When I woke up in the morning at 5:15am I went down the hall to take a shower. Upon returning to my room, I took the sign off of the door. A few minutes after taking the sign off the door, I heard a knock on my door. I remember thinking to myself, “Really? I haven’t even had a chance to get dressed yet.” I put on my robe and answered the door. It was an unexpected request this morning but not something that took any sort of effort. Instead of spending my normal twenty minutes checking the news on the internet, I helped this person and then went to the chapel.
It is days like these that God always manages to speak to me loud and clear in Scripture during Morning Prayer and Mass. In today’s gospel we heard Jesus say to his disciples, “Gird your loins and light your lamps and be like servants who wait their master’s return from a wedding, ready to open immediately when he comes. Blessed are those servants whom the master finds vigilant on his arrival. Amen, I say to you, he will gird himself, have them recline at tables and proceed to wait on them. And should he come in the second or third watch and find them prepared in this way, blessed are those servants.” (Lk 12:35-38).
I am not praising myself for the times that I answered the door to whoever was knocking. I am not praising myself for the many good things that I did for my brothers last week while they were sick. I am not praising myself at all. Instead, I find myself this morning wondering what opportunities I have missed out on to love Jesus by not getting out of bed (both literally and metaphorically) to answer the knock at the door. How many opportunities to love Him did I miss by putting a “Do Not Disturb” sign on my door? How many times have I missed those he sent to me because they did not come on my time table or when I decided it was convenient?
I imagine that as a priest (God-willing) there will be many times where people ask me for my help even when I think that I do not have what they need to be healed. Sometimes people just need someone to care for them. Sometimes people just need someone to listen or to smile at them. Sometimes people just want to know that they are not alone. They do not always knock at your door at the most convenient times, but will you answer the door? I will leave you with one last thing to consider.
“”Let us not grow tired of doing good, for in due time we shall reap our harvest, if we do not give up.” Gal 6:9
Pax Tecum,
Tom
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