Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
- Robert Frost (1874-1963)
I doubt that any of us are strangers to this classical poem. We have heard it many times growing up. It has become a classic because virtually every reader can relate to the experience of being at a crossroads in life. The poem meant something for me in middle school when I first read it. It took on more meaning in high school as I struggled to decide what university I would attend. Again, the poem meant something different as I wrestled with the idea of either going to medical school or fulfilling my dream and becoming a police officer. I admit the poem wasn’t exactly on my mind as I struggled with the decisions: to leave the criminal investigation division to go back to patrol, to leave the police department, to begin working for the Church, to leave my comfortable life for seminary, to accept or reject certain offers on my house that remained on the market for fifteen months.
No, I can’t say that I always referred to classical poetry when I made a decision. As I grew older I began to learn methods of discernment and how to bring my major decisions before God in prayer. I learned to wrestle with my decisions until I reached a sense of peace that my course of action was in line with God’s will. As much as I have grown in my discernment abilities, there have been, and still are times, when I simply pick a path and get to walking. As I walk down the strange and unfamiliar path I sometimes second-guess myself. I begin to worry. I realize that this path is overgrown (lack of travelers) and at times the path is full of thorns and thickets that scratch and cut as you walk through them. Sometimes the path less traveled is not to be glorified as the path of an independent thinker who is willing to be counter-cultural and has a great sense of adventure as Frost describes in his poem.
More often than not, when I find myself on an unfamiliar path these days, I am reminded of something that I learned in my philosophy studies. In his work De Caelo (On Heaven) (I,5), Aristotle states, “The least initial deviation from the truth is multiplied later a thousandfold.” Less you panic because I am quoting a pagan philosopher, I offer you St. Thomas Aquinas’ version in De Ente et Essentia (On Being and Essence), as he states “a little error in the beginning leads to a great one in the end.” While these two quotes have all sorts of implications for our need to properly form our moral consciences and seek out Truth in all that we do, I will try to restrict their implications to the discussion at hand. With both of these quotes in mind, how does Frost even begin to take a single step down one of the two paths? What if he is wrong? What then? What if he does not realize the small mistake he made in the beginning that leads him to a great error in the end? What if the decision he is making ruins the rest of his life? What if the decision he makes in not God’s will?
Can you hear the fear in these questions? Can you hear the lack of trust in the providence of God? Let me very reverently say that I not only hear them, but I have felt them. Less you be quick to judge me, I think I can safely say that we all have. It doesn’t make us unfaithful Christians. It makes us human. So, how then do we ever make some of those life changing decisions, big and small, with some sort of confidence? I offer you the following analogy that was partially given to me by my spiritual director this past summer. I have added to it and have made it my own but I simply trimmed back the branches. The planted seed came from him:
Have you ever been sitting on a plane prior to leaving the gate and looked out the window? There are all sorts of people in jump suits that are working frantically at their various tasks in order to prepare the plane for its flight. Some are providing the fuel. Others are loading food and beverages. Still others are loading baggage onto the plane. Amidst all these people who complete their jobs with such ease that you know it has become routine for them, there is one man or woman who walks among them that sticks out like a sore thumb. The man (I am going to use the masculine gender from here on for ease of writing. I do not mean to exclude females from this position) is wearing a starched white shirt and a tie. He carefully walks around the plane somewhat oblivious to those around him. He checks out every piece of the plane to make sure that all is in proper working condition and the plane is ready to fly. He may pull on the wing, wiggle the flaps, or kick the tires. He goes through a checklist that is by no means routine. He makes sure that everything is where it is supposed to be or else the plane never leaves the ground. There is nothing that will cause this man to skip parts of his list and assume that all is okay. He is diligent in his efforts because he knows that “a little error in the beginning leads to a great one in the end.”
By now you have probably assumed that I am talking about the pilot of the plane. While that assumption will work, I am actually talking about the co-pilot. Usually, it is the co-pilot who does the walk around. The point of the analogy is that the co-pilot always makes sure that things are in order before the plane takes off. If he finds a problem, he calls someone else who is more qualified to fix it. If he doesn’t find a problem, he tells the pilot it is time for both of them to fly the plane together. Now, for the sake of the analogy put yourself in the role of the co-pilot. The decision to fly is any one of the minor or major decisions that you are faced with in your everyday life. Let’s fill in the rest of the roles to wrap this up.
We all know what the baggage is that has been loaded onto our plane for us to carry. Sometimes the bags that have been checked are our own and we have put them ourselves. Other times the bags belong to someone else and yet we are still asked to carry them. So far I have not yet mentioned the passengers although they play an important role. We all have passengers in our lives that fly with us. They may be friends, family, parishioners, or complete strangers. The point is, that as the co-pilot, we make our decisions the best we can based upon our assessment of the situation. Our assessment is informed, however, by our education, past experience, and prayer. We realize that we are under the guidance and teaching of the pilot (perhaps God, perhaps our priest), we fly the plane. Notice that I did not say anything about the emotional condition of the passengers. Sure there are some on the plane that are afraid to fly. There are some on the plane who become anxious at the slightest bit of turbulence. There are some who question your ability to spot a problem with the plane’s mechanics. There are some who will complain not matter how smooth the flight is. There are some who fail to pay attention to the many signs that tell them prior to getting on the plane where the flight is headed and yet they get on the plane thinking that they can insist upon it going to some other place. There are those who sit in first class and others that sit in coach. However the safe arrival of all of them is equally our concern. There are even some who may have intentions of bringing the plane down altogether. However, and most importantly, there are those who walk by the cockpit after the plane has landed, smile, and say, “Thanks for the nice flight. I look forward to flying with you again.”
One more thing, the co-pilot doesn’t fly alone. Not only does he fly with someone in the left-hand seat, but he consults his charts (Scripture), air-traffic controllers and ground handlers (Spiritual Directors and wise friends), weather reports (let’s hope he has a better weatherman than we do), but perhaps most importantly, the experience of the pilots and co-pilots who have gone before him on other flights. While sometimes we may choose the path less traveled, it is important to listen to those who have gone down the path before. They make us aware of cross winds, weather systems in our path, wind shear, etc. Some of those people may just be other pilots who are now your passengers. Listen to them. Take their guidance, but in the end, the decision is yours. You must choose to fly the plane. You must trust your walk-around of the situation and fly to the best of your abilities. There comes a time when you close the cockpit door so that you can concentrate on flying the plane. But remember, that door has to open again at some point and you will have to face your passengers. My point is, you can’t let their anxiety keep you from flying the plane or else no one ever moves. You have to choose: fly or don’t fly. As a wise man and a dear loved one used to say, “The choice is yours, choose well.”
As for me:
All my bags are packed. I’m ready to go.
I’m standin’ here outside your door…
So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you’ll wait for me
Hold me like you’ll never let me go….
Sing it with me!
Pax tecum,
Tom
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
My Kind of Friday
Oh my how life has changed! First of all I apologize for not posting last week. I am still getting settled into life at St. Mary’s. The hockey analogy still applies but progress is being made. I am slowly becoming more comfortable with the schedule and am developing a routine. However, one of the main goals of seminary formation is to help you become more flexible with your time. With that in mind there have been several last minute schedule changes and unanticipated interruptions. I am slowly learning to take these interruptions in stride. In addition to learning to be flexible, I am learning to find those quiet moments that are few and far between and take good advantage of them. Tonight is one of those times.
As I write this entry I am sitting at my desk in my room on a Friday evening. I began my day at 7am with Mass and Morning Prayer followed by breakfast. I then gathered with the guys on my floor for group formation class. This class is where we spend time with our priest-formation advisor discussing various aspects of priesthood. Primarily we talk about the human formation aspects in terms of time management, developing a healthy prayer life, proper recreation, and how to take care of ourselves in general. The second hour of the class was spent practicing proclaiming the Word of God and singing. Yep, I had to get up on stage in front of my classmates and sing a cappella. Let’s just say it is a humbling experience and I have much work to do in terms of training my voice. If you know of a good voice coach let me know. I really would rather not inflict my voice in its current state on the people of God. We all have enough to deal with already.
After formation we had a rector’s conference. This is where the Rector speaks to the entire community about various issues. He gives us updates about the seminary in general and then gives us a little “pep-talk.” Today, he spoke to us about spending time in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament and developing a strong devotion to the Eucharist.
The afternoon was spent doing what we call “Work Order.” This is a time when all the seminarians break into different groups in order to clean and maintain the campus. For me this meant cleaning a set of toilets and showers on one floor and vacuuming a hallway. I did not mind doing the work because I appreciate a clean bathroom as much as the next guy. Thankfully, it was much better than my experience of emptying Port-a-Potties when I was fifteen!
After work order, I went to the gym in order to work out. Due to changes in the schedule I have not been able to exercise all that much this week. It felt great to work out. I treated myself to Subway for an early dinner. For those of you that don’t know I am probably a bigger Subway fan than their spokesman Jared. I could eat the same sandwich everyday and not get tired. I had a minor setback with the weight-loss this past weekend but am still at minus 35 pounds since January. Keep your prayers coming.
Following dinner, I returned to the seminary and spent an hour with Jesus in one of our small chapels. I really enjoyed my time in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. It was a great way to bring my day and my week to a close. Spending that time in prayer reminded me of my post a few weeks ago on developing a palate of prayer. So, strictly as part of my spiritual formation, I returned to my room and poured myself a glass of wine. It is my first glass of the year and I am enjoying it quite a bit (don’t worry…one is all I will have). I am listening to Stan Getz (Jazz) and writing to you.
If you would have told me several years ago that this is how I would choose to spend a Friday night I probably would have laughed at you. And yet, I find myself to be relaxed, content, and I dare say happy. I am immensely grateful that God has brought me to this point in my life. While I am excited to see what else He has in store, for tonight, I am going to sit and enjoy what He has already given me. I invite you to do the same.
I am taking tomorrow off. That means no school work, no laundry, and anything else that I would typically consider “productive.” To some of you, that does not seem like much of a break through, but for some of you who know me, you know that it is a big step. I can only take these steps in formation with the grace I receive from your prayers. So, if I have not said it in a while, thank you (as I raise my glass in a toast). Please continue to pray for me and my brother seminarians. Rest assured, you remain in our prayers.
Pax Tecum,
Tom
As I write this entry I am sitting at my desk in my room on a Friday evening. I began my day at 7am with Mass and Morning Prayer followed by breakfast. I then gathered with the guys on my floor for group formation class. This class is where we spend time with our priest-formation advisor discussing various aspects of priesthood. Primarily we talk about the human formation aspects in terms of time management, developing a healthy prayer life, proper recreation, and how to take care of ourselves in general. The second hour of the class was spent practicing proclaiming the Word of God and singing. Yep, I had to get up on stage in front of my classmates and sing a cappella. Let’s just say it is a humbling experience and I have much work to do in terms of training my voice. If you know of a good voice coach let me know. I really would rather not inflict my voice in its current state on the people of God. We all have enough to deal with already.
After formation we had a rector’s conference. This is where the Rector speaks to the entire community about various issues. He gives us updates about the seminary in general and then gives us a little “pep-talk.” Today, he spoke to us about spending time in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament and developing a strong devotion to the Eucharist.
The afternoon was spent doing what we call “Work Order.” This is a time when all the seminarians break into different groups in order to clean and maintain the campus. For me this meant cleaning a set of toilets and showers on one floor and vacuuming a hallway. I did not mind doing the work because I appreciate a clean bathroom as much as the next guy. Thankfully, it was much better than my experience of emptying Port-a-Potties when I was fifteen!
After work order, I went to the gym in order to work out. Due to changes in the schedule I have not been able to exercise all that much this week. It felt great to work out. I treated myself to Subway for an early dinner. For those of you that don’t know I am probably a bigger Subway fan than their spokesman Jared. I could eat the same sandwich everyday and not get tired. I had a minor setback with the weight-loss this past weekend but am still at minus 35 pounds since January. Keep your prayers coming.
Following dinner, I returned to the seminary and spent an hour with Jesus in one of our small chapels. I really enjoyed my time in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. It was a great way to bring my day and my week to a close. Spending that time in prayer reminded me of my post a few weeks ago on developing a palate of prayer. So, strictly as part of my spiritual formation, I returned to my room and poured myself a glass of wine. It is my first glass of the year and I am enjoying it quite a bit (don’t worry…one is all I will have). I am listening to Stan Getz (Jazz) and writing to you.
If you would have told me several years ago that this is how I would choose to spend a Friday night I probably would have laughed at you. And yet, I find myself to be relaxed, content, and I dare say happy. I am immensely grateful that God has brought me to this point in my life. While I am excited to see what else He has in store, for tonight, I am going to sit and enjoy what He has already given me. I invite you to do the same.
I am taking tomorrow off. That means no school work, no laundry, and anything else that I would typically consider “productive.” To some of you, that does not seem like much of a break through, but for some of you who know me, you know that it is a big step. I can only take these steps in formation with the grace I receive from your prayers. So, if I have not said it in a while, thank you (as I raise my glass in a toast). Please continue to pray for me and my brother seminarians. Rest assured, you remain in our prayers.
Pax Tecum,
Tom
Monday, August 30, 2010
Learning to Skate on Ice...
I have received several calls, emails, inquiries, etc. this past week from various friends and family asking me how my first week here at St. Mary’s went. To be honest, I find myself having difficulty finding the words to express exactly what I am feeling throughout the first week. I can tell you that my schedule seems to be a lot busier than it was at Holy Trinity. That is due in part to the fact that I am taking more classes (seventeen hours instead of nine or twelve). I have also been more faithful to keeping a daily holy hour and getting regular exercise. While this tends to cut down on the amount of free time that I have, I find that they are essential to keeping a balance throughout the week. As usual, I will try to use an analogy to describe the situation.
Growing up in the South, I did not play a lot of hockey. It’s just not a sport that is too popular in our part of the country. The only real exposure I have had to hockey has been learning how to play the sport during PE classes in elementary school. We learned to play the game in a gym with a puck or a tennis ball. We learned the rules of the game and eventually got pretty good at it. We thought we knew how to play hockey. At least, we were comfortable with how we learned to play the game.
Then one day someone comes along and invites us to play ice hockey. We think we know how to play hockey so we say ‘yes’ without giving it much thought. After all, we have been playing hockey for some time and we are pretty sure that we know the rules. How big of an adjustment could it actually be to play on ice? For those of you aren’t laughing in anticipation of what is coming next, hurry up and catch up with the rest of us.
It should not be too hard to picture a group of guys who have never ice skated before stepping on the ice for the first time. This is why Freshmen in high school, rookie police officers, and first year Theologians are such an inexhaustible source of humor for those around them. Forget playing hockey, we are just trying to stay upright. There is no concept of working together as a team in order to play the game. Instead, we are all just trying to learn how to stay on our feet and are beginning to think about skating. There is hope though in the sense that we know over time we will become more comfortable on skates and will then be able to play the game in the same way as we did previously. Eventually we will be like the ‘Mighty Ducks’ in the 1992 film with Emilio Estevez. We will learn to fly together in the ‘Flying V’ and will be able to take on whatever competition comes our way. If it helps those of you who are a little bit…ehemm…wiser get the analogy I will point you to the movie Miracle on Ice which tells the story of the 1980 U.S. Olympic Hockey team.
I have figured out that the best way to avoid injury during this time of learning how to skate is to slow down and stand still from time to time. The time I spend in silent adoration or prayer with the person of Jesus Christ is essential to attaining that sense of peace. Ice skating is always easier when you have the hand of a more experienced skater to hold onto. It is during that time of prayer that God gives me His assurances that He is with me and will teach me the Way to skate. He will show me that the discomfort, the lack of surety, the stress, the anxiety, the frustration that I sometimes feel are nothing more than growing pains. Better yet, He will remind me that what I am feeling are the birth pangs of a new creation. Like Jerusalem and the life of the first century Jews after the time of Christ, I am experiencing the death of an old way of life as I rise with Christ as a new creation.
I don’t think that I am too far off in saying that there are others who feel this same way. Perhaps you have recently started a new job. Perhaps you are doing the same job but from a different perspective. Perhaps you are an experienced parent who is now learning how to raise a teenager or young adult. Perhaps you are someone who is working with a new co-worker, staff, or boss. Perhaps you are adjusting to life without one of your loved ones. Perhaps you are looking at some other major transition in your life. Whatever it is in your life that has you moving from a gym floor to ice, know that God is with you and that He will take you by the hand and teach you the Way to skate. However, it means that we must slow down, humble ourselves, take His hand, and let Him lead us.
Please continue to pray for me and my brother seminarians as we discern God’s will for our lives. Please know that I keep all of you in my prayers as well.
Pax tecum,
Tom
Growing up in the South, I did not play a lot of hockey. It’s just not a sport that is too popular in our part of the country. The only real exposure I have had to hockey has been learning how to play the sport during PE classes in elementary school. We learned to play the game in a gym with a puck or a tennis ball. We learned the rules of the game and eventually got pretty good at it. We thought we knew how to play hockey. At least, we were comfortable with how we learned to play the game.
Then one day someone comes along and invites us to play ice hockey. We think we know how to play hockey so we say ‘yes’ without giving it much thought. After all, we have been playing hockey for some time and we are pretty sure that we know the rules. How big of an adjustment could it actually be to play on ice? For those of you aren’t laughing in anticipation of what is coming next, hurry up and catch up with the rest of us.
It should not be too hard to picture a group of guys who have never ice skated before stepping on the ice for the first time. This is why Freshmen in high school, rookie police officers, and first year Theologians are such an inexhaustible source of humor for those around them. Forget playing hockey, we are just trying to stay upright. There is no concept of working together as a team in order to play the game. Instead, we are all just trying to learn how to stay on our feet and are beginning to think about skating. There is hope though in the sense that we know over time we will become more comfortable on skates and will then be able to play the game in the same way as we did previously. Eventually we will be like the ‘Mighty Ducks’ in the 1992 film with Emilio Estevez. We will learn to fly together in the ‘Flying V’ and will be able to take on whatever competition comes our way. If it helps those of you who are a little bit…ehemm…wiser get the analogy I will point you to the movie Miracle on Ice which tells the story of the 1980 U.S. Olympic Hockey team.
I have figured out that the best way to avoid injury during this time of learning how to skate is to slow down and stand still from time to time. The time I spend in silent adoration or prayer with the person of Jesus Christ is essential to attaining that sense of peace. Ice skating is always easier when you have the hand of a more experienced skater to hold onto. It is during that time of prayer that God gives me His assurances that He is with me and will teach me the Way to skate. He will show me that the discomfort, the lack of surety, the stress, the anxiety, the frustration that I sometimes feel are nothing more than growing pains. Better yet, He will remind me that what I am feeling are the birth pangs of a new creation. Like Jerusalem and the life of the first century Jews after the time of Christ, I am experiencing the death of an old way of life as I rise with Christ as a new creation.
I don’t think that I am too far off in saying that there are others who feel this same way. Perhaps you have recently started a new job. Perhaps you are doing the same job but from a different perspective. Perhaps you are an experienced parent who is now learning how to raise a teenager or young adult. Perhaps you are someone who is working with a new co-worker, staff, or boss. Perhaps you are adjusting to life without one of your loved ones. Perhaps you are looking at some other major transition in your life. Whatever it is in your life that has you moving from a gym floor to ice, know that God is with you and that He will take you by the hand and teach you the Way to skate. However, it means that we must slow down, humble ourselves, take His hand, and let Him lead us.
Please continue to pray for me and my brother seminarians as we discern God’s will for our lives. Please know that I keep all of you in my prayers as well.
Pax tecum,
Tom
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Settling into Seminary...again.
Sorry folks for the delay in posting. My goal for this semester is to post at least once a week (ideally on Saturdays). The goal of the blog when it was created was simply to share a few of my thoughts as I journey closer to the Lord. It has expanded somewhat over the years to also be a means of allowing others to walk with me as I discern God’s will for my life in seminary. I welcome the newcomers who are now walking with us. I appreciate the comments that have been left. I do read them and I make sure to follow up on prayer intentions that are left as well.
It has been eight days since I have moved into my room at St. Mary’s Seminary in Houston, TX. The nineteen new men (including myself) arrived last Saturday. I admit that some of us paused for a second when we saw the size of our rooms. The Lord is definitely inviting me to live a life of greater simplicity. As I settled into my room I have found that it is actually large enough for what I need and is slowly starting to feel like home.
We have spent the week getting to know one another, praying together, registering for classes, buying our books, and attending various meetings. Orientation at seminary is much like the first week on a college campus (minus the debauchery of course!). We had our first public Mass today and it was great to have a few visitors. I want you all to know that you are welcome to join us for Sunday Mass at 9:30 AM almost every week that we are here. If you leave me a comment or shoot me an email a week or two before you plan on coming I will be happy to arrange to meet you and give you a tour of the seminary after Mass. Perhaps you could invite along someone who you think God may be calling to the priesthood. We have plenty of rooms available! (Shameless plug)
Just to give you an idea of the current state of vocations in central Texas, we have approximately eighty-two total seminarians here at St. Mary’s. I believe eleven different dioceses and two or three religious orders are represented. The Diocese of Austin, for which I am studying, has forty-six seminarians total. Twenty-nine of those seminarians are studying here at St. Mary’s. The Theology I class, to which I belong, here at St. Mary’s has twenty-two students, twelve of which are from Austin. So, God willing, in five years, we may have an ordination class of twelve men. Keep praying for us! It is certainly the prayers of those who support us that allow us to hear the call in the first place and to respond with a generous heart.
I must admit that I am looking forward to classes beginning tomorrow. I know that I might be singing a different tune in a few weeks, but for now, I am ready to get back at it. I have finished all of my philosophy studies and will now be studying theology for the next 4-5 years. Currently I am registered for 19 credit hours this semester. The classes I am taking are: Mark and Method, Introduction to Greek I, Introduction to Theological Studies, Pentateuch, Public Rhetoric, Introduction to Liturgy, and Church History I. I will certainly need your prayers this semester.
On a more personal note I want to share a small success story with you. Please admit me a moment to be a little proud. I share it as a means of encouragement for others and also to say thank you to those who have supported me in my efforts. Since January I have been focusing on my physical health and working on losing weight. I have lost a total of thirty-four pounds. I had a great time taking my suit in to have it altered (smaller this time!). My goal is to lose about a pound a week until I lose another 50 pounds or so. It seems like a lot right now but I am taking it slow. It is amazing how much impact prayer can have on your ability to adhere to changes in diet and exercise. I recently received a gym membership as a gift and am looking forward to beginning my exercise routine this week. So, as you can see, life in the seminary and discerning priesthood really is an effort to become holy as well as “whol-e.” It involves a four pronged approach to wellness: body, mind, and spirit. Will you join me in this effort in your own lives?
Again, thank you for all of your prayers and support. I will try to post some pictures of the seminary campus soon. It is absolutely beautiful despite the miserable Houston weather. Until then, let us keep one another in prayer.
Pax Tecum,
Tom
It has been eight days since I have moved into my room at St. Mary’s Seminary in Houston, TX. The nineteen new men (including myself) arrived last Saturday. I admit that some of us paused for a second when we saw the size of our rooms. The Lord is definitely inviting me to live a life of greater simplicity. As I settled into my room I have found that it is actually large enough for what I need and is slowly starting to feel like home.
We have spent the week getting to know one another, praying together, registering for classes, buying our books, and attending various meetings. Orientation at seminary is much like the first week on a college campus (minus the debauchery of course!). We had our first public Mass today and it was great to have a few visitors. I want you all to know that you are welcome to join us for Sunday Mass at 9:30 AM almost every week that we are here. If you leave me a comment or shoot me an email a week or two before you plan on coming I will be happy to arrange to meet you and give you a tour of the seminary after Mass. Perhaps you could invite along someone who you think God may be calling to the priesthood. We have plenty of rooms available! (Shameless plug)
Just to give you an idea of the current state of vocations in central Texas, we have approximately eighty-two total seminarians here at St. Mary’s. I believe eleven different dioceses and two or three religious orders are represented. The Diocese of Austin, for which I am studying, has forty-six seminarians total. Twenty-nine of those seminarians are studying here at St. Mary’s. The Theology I class, to which I belong, here at St. Mary’s has twenty-two students, twelve of which are from Austin. So, God willing, in five years, we may have an ordination class of twelve men. Keep praying for us! It is certainly the prayers of those who support us that allow us to hear the call in the first place and to respond with a generous heart.
I must admit that I am looking forward to classes beginning tomorrow. I know that I might be singing a different tune in a few weeks, but for now, I am ready to get back at it. I have finished all of my philosophy studies and will now be studying theology for the next 4-5 years. Currently I am registered for 19 credit hours this semester. The classes I am taking are: Mark and Method, Introduction to Greek I, Introduction to Theological Studies, Pentateuch, Public Rhetoric, Introduction to Liturgy, and Church History I. I will certainly need your prayers this semester.
On a more personal note I want to share a small success story with you. Please admit me a moment to be a little proud. I share it as a means of encouragement for others and also to say thank you to those who have supported me in my efforts. Since January I have been focusing on my physical health and working on losing weight. I have lost a total of thirty-four pounds. I had a great time taking my suit in to have it altered (smaller this time!). My goal is to lose about a pound a week until I lose another 50 pounds or so. It seems like a lot right now but I am taking it slow. It is amazing how much impact prayer can have on your ability to adhere to changes in diet and exercise. I recently received a gym membership as a gift and am looking forward to beginning my exercise routine this week. So, as you can see, life in the seminary and discerning priesthood really is an effort to become holy as well as “whol-e.” It involves a four pronged approach to wellness: body, mind, and spirit. Will you join me in this effort in your own lives?
Again, thank you for all of your prayers and support. I will try to post some pictures of the seminary campus soon. It is absolutely beautiful despite the miserable Houston weather. Until then, let us keep one another in prayer.
Pax Tecum,
Tom
Sunday, August 8, 2010
"Developing a Palate for Prayer"
I had the privilege of spending the last ten weeks at the Institute for Priestly Formation on the campus of Creighton University in Omaha, NE. Over one hundred seventy-five seminarians from seventy different dioceses in the United States gathered together to focus on our spiritual formation as men discerning a priestly vocation. In addition to speaking to us about topics such as priestly identity, celibacy, human sexuality, discernment, etc., much of the program worked with developing our life of prayer.
I cannot adequately express to you how grace-filled the summer was for me and how much of a gift it was to me personally. Despite the many graces that were received, they did not all come easily. During the first week of the program, the faculty began to talk to us about our spiritual senses and “tasting” God in our prayer. I had no idea what they meant by “tasting” God and thought that use of language was completely ridiculous. Despite my silent objections to the use of the word I heard it over and over throughout the first few weeks. At first I was not entirely sure why I had such a strong objection to the word ‘taste.’ I think part of the objection was that I did not understand what they meant and felt a little too embarrassed to ask. It was easier for me to say something like, “that language is not for me,” or “that is not my style of prayer.” I was upset with myself because I wanted to remain open to the material being presented and did not want to close myself off to the graces that God was trying to give me through the presentations simply because I objected to the manner in which a word was being used. I was reminded of a saying that my high school economics teacher enjoyed sharing with us, “we mock what we don’t understand.” The truth was I didn’t understand but I wanted to. I desperately wanted my prayer life to improve. I desperately wanted to know what they meant by ‘tasting’ God. I wanted the intimate prayer life they seemed to have but was a little embarrassed to admit my ignorance. Who of us really wants to admit that we don’t know how to pray as we should? (See Rom 8:26). I took the matter to prayer and over several weeks an image developed in my heart that opened my eyes just a little bit to what is meant by ‘tasting’ God in prayer. I want to share that image with you now.
I made the trip to Omaha with a brother seminarian from the Archdiocese of Galveston-Houston. The first night of the trip we stopped and stayed at a hotel in Wichita, KS. My brother seminarian and I decided to share a bottle of wine with dinner. When the wine arrived I made good use of my Cruise Ship Wine Tasting Class skills to act as though I knew what I was doing in tasting the wine. I went through all the external acts. I examined the cork. I looked at the color of the wine. I swirled the wine around in the glass. I inhaled the bouquet and considered the smell for a moment before taking my first sip. I paused in silence for a few moments as I considered the taste of the wine before I indicated my approval. I am telling on myself but I am a bit of a poser when it comes to wine connoisseurship. All the motions and actions I performed boil down to whether I thought the taste of the wine was pleasurable or not.
After a few sips of wine my friend looked at the label on the bottle and said, “Hmmm. I had no idea that there was mint in this wine.” I took another taste of the wine and immediately I could detect the taste of mint. I have tasted mint before and have been taught to know what mint tastes like. Just by hearing my friend say the word ‘mint’ I could imagine the taste in my mind. Therefore when I went to take another drink of the wine I knew what to look for. Amongst the many ingredients that went into the wine, I could sift through them and identify the mint.
As I reflected on this experience, I realized that the same thing applies to ‘tasting’ God in prayer. You see, wine connoisseurship is not a skill that you can learn by simply reading a book. Your palate for wine can only be developed by someone placing the various ingredients in front of you, telling you what they are, and having you taste them repeatedly. Eventually you acquire the ability to detect these tastes amidst an assortment of ingredients. It takes an experienced connoisseur to pass the skill on to you. Over the course of my life I have had several priests, spiritual directors, and other people of prayer help me learn to sort through the various ‘tastes’ of prayer in order to discern what is of God and what is not. As I continue to grow in my relationship with God, I realize that I am slowly developing a refined palate for my prayer.
However, while it may be fun to blindfold a wine taster and ask him/her to tell you what ingredients are in the wine, there is simply no substitute for reading the list of ingredients printed on the label. The label of prayer is of course Sacred Scripture. It is through Scripture that God reveals Himself to us and makes us aware of His presence in our lives. He tells us what to look for. He tells us where to find Him. He tells us of His desire to love us and to be in communion with us. Through Mass, study of Sacred Scripture, prayer groups, spiritual direction, etc., we begin to define our palate of prayer so that our time with the Lord is a more pleasurable, consoling, and edifying experience.
There is one last part of the meditation that I want to share with you. I like a good dry red wine. I like it bold and full of spice. However, the same cannot be said of my prayer. I know that I am not alone in my experiences of frustration when I think that my prayer is ‘dry’ or I will sometimes say, “Nothing is happening.” I hope that most of us have experienced a consoling moment of prayer where we could not doubt the presence of God. We often wonder why prayer cannot be like that every time we pray. The warm and fuzzy ‘taste’ of prayer is often what we are seeking. Then I realized that there is no less fruit in a dry merlot than there is in a delicate Riesling, a Northern Italian red, or a fine glass of port. In the same way there is much fruit to be ‘tasted’ in those dry moments of prayer. God is no less present or at work in dry moments of prayer as He is in those times of great consolation. However, without a refined palate to sort out the different tastes, we may miss Him.
The key is to keep tasting the wine. Don’t forget the health benefits of a glass a day. Remain steadfast in prayer. Don’t forget to look at the label often. Find someone that you can talk to about your prayer life who can work with you in refining your palate for prayer. Take a retreat once a year and go to confession often as a means of cleansing your palate. If you haven’t already ‘tasted’ God in your prayer, be patient, because once you do, you will never taste something as glorious, wonderful, or beautiful as the fruit He wants to give you. And keep in mind; I am always willing to sit down with you over a glass of wine!
Pax Tecum,
Tom
I cannot adequately express to you how grace-filled the summer was for me and how much of a gift it was to me personally. Despite the many graces that were received, they did not all come easily. During the first week of the program, the faculty began to talk to us about our spiritual senses and “tasting” God in our prayer. I had no idea what they meant by “tasting” God and thought that use of language was completely ridiculous. Despite my silent objections to the use of the word I heard it over and over throughout the first few weeks. At first I was not entirely sure why I had such a strong objection to the word ‘taste.’ I think part of the objection was that I did not understand what they meant and felt a little too embarrassed to ask. It was easier for me to say something like, “that language is not for me,” or “that is not my style of prayer.” I was upset with myself because I wanted to remain open to the material being presented and did not want to close myself off to the graces that God was trying to give me through the presentations simply because I objected to the manner in which a word was being used. I was reminded of a saying that my high school economics teacher enjoyed sharing with us, “we mock what we don’t understand.” The truth was I didn’t understand but I wanted to. I desperately wanted my prayer life to improve. I desperately wanted to know what they meant by ‘tasting’ God. I wanted the intimate prayer life they seemed to have but was a little embarrassed to admit my ignorance. Who of us really wants to admit that we don’t know how to pray as we should? (See Rom 8:26). I took the matter to prayer and over several weeks an image developed in my heart that opened my eyes just a little bit to what is meant by ‘tasting’ God in prayer. I want to share that image with you now.
I made the trip to Omaha with a brother seminarian from the Archdiocese of Galveston-Houston. The first night of the trip we stopped and stayed at a hotel in Wichita, KS. My brother seminarian and I decided to share a bottle of wine with dinner. When the wine arrived I made good use of my Cruise Ship Wine Tasting Class skills to act as though I knew what I was doing in tasting the wine. I went through all the external acts. I examined the cork. I looked at the color of the wine. I swirled the wine around in the glass. I inhaled the bouquet and considered the smell for a moment before taking my first sip. I paused in silence for a few moments as I considered the taste of the wine before I indicated my approval. I am telling on myself but I am a bit of a poser when it comes to wine connoisseurship. All the motions and actions I performed boil down to whether I thought the taste of the wine was pleasurable or not.
After a few sips of wine my friend looked at the label on the bottle and said, “Hmmm. I had no idea that there was mint in this wine.” I took another taste of the wine and immediately I could detect the taste of mint. I have tasted mint before and have been taught to know what mint tastes like. Just by hearing my friend say the word ‘mint’ I could imagine the taste in my mind. Therefore when I went to take another drink of the wine I knew what to look for. Amongst the many ingredients that went into the wine, I could sift through them and identify the mint.
As I reflected on this experience, I realized that the same thing applies to ‘tasting’ God in prayer. You see, wine connoisseurship is not a skill that you can learn by simply reading a book. Your palate for wine can only be developed by someone placing the various ingredients in front of you, telling you what they are, and having you taste them repeatedly. Eventually you acquire the ability to detect these tastes amidst an assortment of ingredients. It takes an experienced connoisseur to pass the skill on to you. Over the course of my life I have had several priests, spiritual directors, and other people of prayer help me learn to sort through the various ‘tastes’ of prayer in order to discern what is of God and what is not. As I continue to grow in my relationship with God, I realize that I am slowly developing a refined palate for my prayer.
However, while it may be fun to blindfold a wine taster and ask him/her to tell you what ingredients are in the wine, there is simply no substitute for reading the list of ingredients printed on the label. The label of prayer is of course Sacred Scripture. It is through Scripture that God reveals Himself to us and makes us aware of His presence in our lives. He tells us what to look for. He tells us where to find Him. He tells us of His desire to love us and to be in communion with us. Through Mass, study of Sacred Scripture, prayer groups, spiritual direction, etc., we begin to define our palate of prayer so that our time with the Lord is a more pleasurable, consoling, and edifying experience.
There is one last part of the meditation that I want to share with you. I like a good dry red wine. I like it bold and full of spice. However, the same cannot be said of my prayer. I know that I am not alone in my experiences of frustration when I think that my prayer is ‘dry’ or I will sometimes say, “Nothing is happening.” I hope that most of us have experienced a consoling moment of prayer where we could not doubt the presence of God. We often wonder why prayer cannot be like that every time we pray. The warm and fuzzy ‘taste’ of prayer is often what we are seeking. Then I realized that there is no less fruit in a dry merlot than there is in a delicate Riesling, a Northern Italian red, or a fine glass of port. In the same way there is much fruit to be ‘tasted’ in those dry moments of prayer. God is no less present or at work in dry moments of prayer as He is in those times of great consolation. However, without a refined palate to sort out the different tastes, we may miss Him.
The key is to keep tasting the wine. Don’t forget the health benefits of a glass a day. Remain steadfast in prayer. Don’t forget to look at the label often. Find someone that you can talk to about your prayer life who can work with you in refining your palate for prayer. Take a retreat once a year and go to confession often as a means of cleansing your palate. If you haven’t already ‘tasted’ God in your prayer, be patient, because once you do, you will never taste something as glorious, wonderful, or beautiful as the fruit He wants to give you. And keep in mind; I am always willing to sit down with you over a glass of wine!
Pax Tecum,
Tom
Saturday, July 24, 2010
"Clean your room!"
These were three of my least favorite words to hear when I was growing up. During the summer I would often hear my mother tell my brother and I, “By the time I get home from work I want your room clean.” When my brother and I shared a room we would spend more time arguing about to whom the mess belonged than if we just worked together to clean up the mess. As I got older and had my own room there was no one else I could blame the mess on. However, just because I knew it was my mess that did not mean that I had sufficient motivation to clean it up as soon as I was asked. Instead I would wait for mom to call and tell us that she was on her way home before I started “cleaning.” As soon as I hung up the phone the flight of the bumblebee began. I frantically shoved clothes (clean or dirty it didn’t matter) into drawers and hid toys in my closet. Of course, there was no fooling mom. She knew my tricks. She wasted no time in opening the closet doors, desk drawers, dresser drawers, etc. to discover my feeble attempts to hide the mess.
In college, neither my roommate nor I was overly concerned about keeping the room clean. When you ran out of clothes you simply turned over the pile and started from the bottom (ok I am exaggerating a little but not by much). The point is we were free. There was no one there to tell us to clean up our mess. Of course, living in a college dorm you always know when someone’s parents are coming to visit. You begin to hear these strange sounds coming from their room. One of the noises is a loud machine-like whirring that lasts for about ten to fifteen minutes. The other is a periodic hissing noise that sounds like air escaping from a bicycle tire. There is a strange smell of lemon or pine replacing the odors we had been accustomed to. Of course, over time you learn that the sounds are caused by a vacuum cleaner and a can of Pledge spray. Whenever you heard, saw, or smelled these things there was only one conclusion to draw, the parents are coming.
After college, as I lived with roommates in an apartment or a house, I developed a different level of cleanliness. I always insisted on keeping the public areas of the house clean. I would make sure the dishes were done and would even sweep, mop, vacuum, and dust regularly. I didn’t want anyone to think that I lived like a pig. My room, however, was another story. My room was never dirty but it was almost always messy and disorganized. I knew where everything was but there was no way someone else could safely navigate the hazardous piles of stuff left in my room. Not much changed when I bought my own home. The public areas were kept clean and I took fairly good care of the lawn. However, the door to my room remained closed. After all, I was single and celibate. What did it matter what my room looked like? That was no one else’s business but my own.
As I left for seminary, I would like to tell you that all of my bad habits were purified. However, you could always tell how my semester was going by the condition of my room. By the end of the semester the mess in my room would accumulate. Papers, books, clothes, etc. would begin to pile up as I no longer thought I had time to clean my room. I would rather live in the mess than find the time to clean it. The funny thing is that no matter how messy my room would get, I always made my bed in the morning. I don’t know what to make of that. Whenever I would leave for an extended break I would spend a great deal of time cleaning and organizing my room. I remember growing up that whenever we would go on vacation my mom would spend quite a few hours cleaning every inch of the house before we left. She always said that she cleaned it for two reasons. The first was that if something happened to us on vacation she did not want anyone to think that we kept a dirty house (sorry mom for letting the secret out). The second reason was that it made her feel good to come home to a clean house. It was this second reason that kept me cleaning my room before I left the seminary for more than a few days.
I want to share just a few more thoughts about cleaning before I get to the point. Drawing from my own experience with hiding my mess, I learned as a police officer how much people will reveal to you if you simply watch them. Often times the person will stand in between you and whatever the person does not want you to find. They will often point subconsciously to the ‘mess’ with their eyes and their body language. I now understood how my mother always knew where to find my ‘mess.’ I also realized over time that I knew I was comfortable with another person when I didn’t even bother trying to straighten up before inviting them to my house. I didn’t have to put on a show. They could call and say they were five minutes from the house and I didn’t immediately go into flight of the bumblebee mode. I was comfortable with them seeing my ‘mess.’
Take a minute and re-read this reflection but replace the word ‘room’ with ‘soul’ and you will understand my point. There are many ‘messes’ in our life. Some of them we try to clean regularly. Some of them we simply try to hide under the bed or in a drawer. We compartmentalize them from the rest of our life. After all they are no one else’s business but our own. They don’t hurt anyone but me, right? Sometimes we spend a great deal of time and effort cleaning up a 'mess' only to have it reappear. We get so tired of cleaning the same 'mess' over and over that we are tempted to give up and resign ourselves to living in the 'mess.' With great reverence and charity I dare to say that for some of us, it has been so long since we have properly cleaned our ‘rooms’ (i.e. Act of Contrition, Sacrament of Reconciliation, etc.) that we have forgotten what the vacuum and the dusting spray sound like. Some of us choose to go into the frantic mode of straightening up when we find out that the Father is on His way to see us or better yet, we are on our way to see Him. Some of us pride ourselves on the fact that at least our house is not as messy as our neighbors. We spend a lot of time pointing out the mess in other people’s lives. (See Luke Ch.6)
The thing is, when we go to see the Father, whether at Mass, adoration, a retreat, work, the kids’ soccer practice, or a friend’s home for dinner, we bring our mess with us. There is no point in hiding it from Him who sees everything. I am reminded of the psalmist’s words, “O Lord, you have probed me and you know me; you know when I sit and when I stand; you understand my thoughts from afar. My journeys and my rest you scrutinize, with all my ways you are familiar. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know the whole of it. Behind me and before, you hem me in and rest your hand upon me…Where can I go from your spirit? From your presence where can I flee? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I sink to the nether world, you are present there…” (Psalm 139).
This summer I have spent a great deal of time cleaning my ‘room’. I am opening the dresser drawers, looking under the bed, and finding all of those messes that I have tried to hide to give the appearance of cleanliness. Most of these ‘messes’ are nothing more than dust on a shelf and yet the Lord is asking me to give them to Him. I have searched my heart and allowed God to probe my inmost being to find those things that need to be brought to Him so that I can be healed. To be honest, I don’t like cleaning my ‘room’ now anymore than I did as a child. The point I want to share with you is that not every ‘mess’ needs to be cleaned before we welcome Jesus into our ‘rooms’. As a matter of fact, Jesus is waiting for us to invite Him into the ‘messes’ of our life. After all, Jesus is a gentleman who awaits our invitation. He will not force His way into our ‘room’. He will not take back the freedom He has purchased for us with His own body and blood. As I learn to be comfortable with Jesus amidst my ‘mess,’ I am coming to realize, like the lesson I learned from working together with my brother to clean our room, the job is easier when I allow Jesus to help me clean.
Whatever the ‘mess’ might be in your life (i.e. marital problems, cancer, loss of a loved one, a habitual sin, loss of a job, change in a relationship, feelings of being unlovable, feelings of low self-worth, pride, etc.) invite Jesus to be with you in the ‘mess.’ Then together, along with the Blessed Mother and the saints, allow Jesus to help you in cleaning your ‘room.’ After all, there will come a time when you will have to return home from this journey (we all know it’s not always a vacation!) in a foreign land. What a joy it is to come home to a clean house!
Please continue to pray for me as all of you remain in my daily prayers.
Pax Tecum,
Tom
In college, neither my roommate nor I was overly concerned about keeping the room clean. When you ran out of clothes you simply turned over the pile and started from the bottom (ok I am exaggerating a little but not by much). The point is we were free. There was no one there to tell us to clean up our mess. Of course, living in a college dorm you always know when someone’s parents are coming to visit. You begin to hear these strange sounds coming from their room. One of the noises is a loud machine-like whirring that lasts for about ten to fifteen minutes. The other is a periodic hissing noise that sounds like air escaping from a bicycle tire. There is a strange smell of lemon or pine replacing the odors we had been accustomed to. Of course, over time you learn that the sounds are caused by a vacuum cleaner and a can of Pledge spray. Whenever you heard, saw, or smelled these things there was only one conclusion to draw, the parents are coming.
After college, as I lived with roommates in an apartment or a house, I developed a different level of cleanliness. I always insisted on keeping the public areas of the house clean. I would make sure the dishes were done and would even sweep, mop, vacuum, and dust regularly. I didn’t want anyone to think that I lived like a pig. My room, however, was another story. My room was never dirty but it was almost always messy and disorganized. I knew where everything was but there was no way someone else could safely navigate the hazardous piles of stuff left in my room. Not much changed when I bought my own home. The public areas were kept clean and I took fairly good care of the lawn. However, the door to my room remained closed. After all, I was single and celibate. What did it matter what my room looked like? That was no one else’s business but my own.
As I left for seminary, I would like to tell you that all of my bad habits were purified. However, you could always tell how my semester was going by the condition of my room. By the end of the semester the mess in my room would accumulate. Papers, books, clothes, etc. would begin to pile up as I no longer thought I had time to clean my room. I would rather live in the mess than find the time to clean it. The funny thing is that no matter how messy my room would get, I always made my bed in the morning. I don’t know what to make of that. Whenever I would leave for an extended break I would spend a great deal of time cleaning and organizing my room. I remember growing up that whenever we would go on vacation my mom would spend quite a few hours cleaning every inch of the house before we left. She always said that she cleaned it for two reasons. The first was that if something happened to us on vacation she did not want anyone to think that we kept a dirty house (sorry mom for letting the secret out). The second reason was that it made her feel good to come home to a clean house. It was this second reason that kept me cleaning my room before I left the seminary for more than a few days.
I want to share just a few more thoughts about cleaning before I get to the point. Drawing from my own experience with hiding my mess, I learned as a police officer how much people will reveal to you if you simply watch them. Often times the person will stand in between you and whatever the person does not want you to find. They will often point subconsciously to the ‘mess’ with their eyes and their body language. I now understood how my mother always knew where to find my ‘mess.’ I also realized over time that I knew I was comfortable with another person when I didn’t even bother trying to straighten up before inviting them to my house. I didn’t have to put on a show. They could call and say they were five minutes from the house and I didn’t immediately go into flight of the bumblebee mode. I was comfortable with them seeing my ‘mess.’
Take a minute and re-read this reflection but replace the word ‘room’ with ‘soul’ and you will understand my point. There are many ‘messes’ in our life. Some of them we try to clean regularly. Some of them we simply try to hide under the bed or in a drawer. We compartmentalize them from the rest of our life. After all they are no one else’s business but our own. They don’t hurt anyone but me, right? Sometimes we spend a great deal of time and effort cleaning up a 'mess' only to have it reappear. We get so tired of cleaning the same 'mess' over and over that we are tempted to give up and resign ourselves to living in the 'mess.' With great reverence and charity I dare to say that for some of us, it has been so long since we have properly cleaned our ‘rooms’ (i.e. Act of Contrition, Sacrament of Reconciliation, etc.) that we have forgotten what the vacuum and the dusting spray sound like. Some of us choose to go into the frantic mode of straightening up when we find out that the Father is on His way to see us or better yet, we are on our way to see Him. Some of us pride ourselves on the fact that at least our house is not as messy as our neighbors. We spend a lot of time pointing out the mess in other people’s lives. (See Luke Ch.6)
The thing is, when we go to see the Father, whether at Mass, adoration, a retreat, work, the kids’ soccer practice, or a friend’s home for dinner, we bring our mess with us. There is no point in hiding it from Him who sees everything. I am reminded of the psalmist’s words, “O Lord, you have probed me and you know me; you know when I sit and when I stand; you understand my thoughts from afar. My journeys and my rest you scrutinize, with all my ways you are familiar. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know the whole of it. Behind me and before, you hem me in and rest your hand upon me…Where can I go from your spirit? From your presence where can I flee? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I sink to the nether world, you are present there…” (Psalm 139).
This summer I have spent a great deal of time cleaning my ‘room’. I am opening the dresser drawers, looking under the bed, and finding all of those messes that I have tried to hide to give the appearance of cleanliness. Most of these ‘messes’ are nothing more than dust on a shelf and yet the Lord is asking me to give them to Him. I have searched my heart and allowed God to probe my inmost being to find those things that need to be brought to Him so that I can be healed. To be honest, I don’t like cleaning my ‘room’ now anymore than I did as a child. The point I want to share with you is that not every ‘mess’ needs to be cleaned before we welcome Jesus into our ‘rooms’. As a matter of fact, Jesus is waiting for us to invite Him into the ‘messes’ of our life. After all, Jesus is a gentleman who awaits our invitation. He will not force His way into our ‘room’. He will not take back the freedom He has purchased for us with His own body and blood. As I learn to be comfortable with Jesus amidst my ‘mess,’ I am coming to realize, like the lesson I learned from working together with my brother to clean our room, the job is easier when I allow Jesus to help me clean.
Whatever the ‘mess’ might be in your life (i.e. marital problems, cancer, loss of a loved one, a habitual sin, loss of a job, change in a relationship, feelings of being unlovable, feelings of low self-worth, pride, etc.) invite Jesus to be with you in the ‘mess.’ Then together, along with the Blessed Mother and the saints, allow Jesus to help you in cleaning your ‘room.’ After all, there will come a time when you will have to return home from this journey (we all know it’s not always a vacation!) in a foreign land. What a joy it is to come home to a clean house!
Please continue to pray for me as all of you remain in my daily prayers.
Pax Tecum,
Tom
Monday, July 12, 2010
Gifts Wrapped in Many Layers
I remember growing up that I loved to receive gifts. I loved to rip open the wrapping paper and find out what was inside. Many times I struggled to contain my excitement and wonder at what sort of amazing toy was hidden underneath the different styles of wrapping paper. Birthdays were always the best because the presents appeared that day and I got to open them almost immediately.
Christmas, on the other hand, was pure torture. My mom and dad would set the wrapped presents (except the ones that Santa brought of course) underneath the tree as they wrapped them in the days leading up to Christmas. We kids would often stealthily make our way to the presents when no one was looking in order to carefully inspect them. We would shake, squeeze, feel, and weigh the package to see if we could match it up to an item that we had placed on our list. My mom used to get upset on Christmas morning when she would hand us a package and we would immediately say, “I know what this one is!” She often accused us of ruining Christmas with our guessing games. I never realized it back then that my mother’s real joy in giving us the gift was to watch the look on our face as we unwrapped the present. Her gift was watching the smile on our faces and seeing her children full of happiness.
My mom then got creative in the way she packaged our presents. One year my mom gave one of the kids a small Fisher Price toy crane. I can’t remember whose gift it was originally but mom saved the box and then used it to package other gifts in the years to come. Every year after that one of us would open the gift and be confused for a minute thinking we received a toy crane. Everyone else who was in on the secret would laugh as the real gift was hidden inside the box. Eventually we all knew the secret and took turns using the box to hide our gifts over the years. I am not sure whatever happened to that box but the memory has stuck with me. Nowadays, I rarely spend time wrapping gifts and sometimes just hand them over to people. However, I still love to receive a wrapped present as part of the gift is finding out what is hidden underneath the paper.
This weekend I received an assortment of gifts all of which were wrapped in many layers. I want to share with you the experience of unwrapping these gifts and the joy that I felt once I recognized the gifts that I had received. My hope is that you will be able to un-wrap a few experiences in your life and find the gift that awaits your discovery.
Friday afternoon I arrived at the airport in Omaha, NE, full of anticipation as I was heading home to College Station for my pastor’s 25th Anniversary of Ordination to the Priesthood. As the plane began its descent into the Dallas/Ft. Worth the captain announced that due to bad weather at the airport we would divert to Tulsa, OK. We landed in Tulsa safely and waited patiently for our turn to fuel up the plane. After an hour of waiting on the tarmac we pulled into the gate. The plane was refueled and then we learned that weather had once again closed the airport. When we finally got clearance to depart for DFW a mechanical problem was discovered. We sat on the plane for another two hours before they decided to change planes. By this time I had missed my connection to Austin and was trying to figure out what I would do. I called some friends in Dallas and left a message for them to call me as I thought I might be stranded in Dallas for the night. We arrived in Dallas at 11PM. By the grace of God my friend was near the airport and came to pick me up (the first gift!). As my friend and I arrived at his apartment his fiancée had already prepared a place for me to sleep in the living room. Despite the delays and the unplanned stop in Dallas my mood was pretty upbeat. I was happy to visit with my friend and his fiancée and share with them the many graces I have received this summer. After four short hours of sleep I was headed back to the airport to catch the first flight to College Station.
I arrived in College Station at 10:15 AM. I was enthusiastically greeted at the airport by a dear friend who then drove me immediately to St. Thomas Aquinas Church. I arrived at the church twenty minutes before Mass began. I was worried about being on time as I had been asked to be a lector. As I sat down to pray before the Mass began I was already exhausted. I asked God to help me proclaim His word in a worthy manner and to sustain me throughout the day. As I sat down in the pew after the reading I thought of how much I enjoyed being a lector and how much I have missed it since I have been in seminary (another unexpected gift!). The Mass was absolutely beautiful and a fitting celebration of one man’s twenty-five year commitment to bringing Christ to others as well as the eternal priesthood of Jesus Christ.
I spent the next two hours at the reception visiting with many friends and parishioners. It seemed that every time I finished talking to someone another appeared in their place. While I enjoyed the conversations I will admit to you that I was tired, hungry, and thirsty. My feet hurt and my back was killing me from being on the plane the night before. Despite these feelings I was thrilled to visit with these friends (another gift!). My only regret is that I did not get to spend more time with them.
After the reception I made my way over to my best friend’s house to meet his newborn son. I was in Omaha when he was born and he was now a month old. My friend was at work but I was able to visit his wife and son. I brought a gift (a stuffed animal) for my friend’s daughter but she was taking a nap and neither I nor her mother wanted to wake her. I was disappointed that I would not get to see her on this trip. I cannot explain to you how much it warmed my heart to sit and hold my friend’s newborn son. It was truly a gift! After about thirty minutes, I realized that I had not eaten since 6AM and needed to go get some lunch.
After lunch I spent some time in the adoration chapel at my parish. I was exhausted as I collapsed in the pew. I fell into deep meditation (i.e. sleep) before the Blessed Sacrament. I hope I was not snoring and bothering those who had gathered to pray. When I opened my eyes twenty minutes later I received another gift but I am going to save that one for later as this post is already too long. After my holy hour I went back to the Church to attend the vigil Mass as I would be traveling all day Sunday and unable to get to Mass. I was happy to hear that our new parochial vicar was celebrating his first weekend Mass at the parish (another gift!). After Mass I attended a dinner party with my pastor and several friends and parishioners.
I finally left the party at 10PM and then met my best friend at his work. There have been many changes in both of our lives that have prevented us from spending much time with one another. I only got to visit with him for about thirty minutes but I appreciated every one of them. I told him I would see him in a month and then headed for home. When I arrived home I was greeted by who I consider to be my little brother. We talked for about fifteen minutes. The time was short but much was said. I finally collapsed in bed at midnight. It had been a full day but one that was full of love and gift.
The alarm clock went off entirely too soon on Sunday morning. I got up, showered, packed, printed my boarding passes and had a nice breakfast with the family. Due to the change in my travel plans I did not have a way to get to the airport in Austin for my 12:50 PM flight. Rose, the mom, offered to drive me to the airport. This was an unexpected gift as it gave us almost two hours to visit and discuss many things. Had things gone according to the original plan we would not have had this time to visit.
After arriving at the airport in Austin I went through security and tried to get on an earlier flight to Dallas. Not only was there no room on the earlier flight but I learned that my original flight had been canceled due to a mechanical problem. I called the airline and was rebooked on a flight to Chicago later that day. Now I knew who God wanted me to see when I was stuck in Dallas but I couldn’t think of anyone in Chicago that God would want me to visit. I spent the next six hours in the Austin airport. I exchanged many texts and phone calls with people as I informed them of the new plans. I treated myself to some Salt Lick BBQ and Amy’s ice cream for lunch (things only a true Austinite can appreciate). My best friend then sent me a text of a picture of his daughter who slept with the stuffed animal I had given her. It made my day and made the stay in the airport a little easier. When I finally arrived in Chicago I learned that my connecting flight to Omaha would be delayed due to another mechanical problem. We switched aircraft and moved to a different gate. At this point the skies opened up and the airport was shut down for a few hours due to weather. I couldn’t help but laugh. If there was a gift in this experience God used the entire roll of wrapping paper and several toy crane boxes to hide it. I tried to remain as positive as possible as we finally boarded our flight and headed home.
I arrived in Omaha at 11:40PM. I was beat. I was exhausted. I was a tad bit impatient. I collapsed in my bed knowing that I had an early wake up call. As I sat before Mass this morning I thought to myself of all the gifts that I received this weekend. I could have easily spent all this time complaining about the many difficulties but I share them with you only in the hopes that you will see what God showed me. In the midst of all these unplanned changes, struggles, inconveniences, etc. God blessed with many amazing gifts. He allowed me to love and be loved. He allowed me to be with some of the people I love the most. I was happy as I felt that I had lived the weekend well. There were many crosses but you cannot have the resurrection without the cross. Two phrases come to my mind. One of them is from Sacred Scripture “Without cost you have received, without cost you are to give” (Mt 10:8) and from a less sacred source, “I could have missed the pain, but then I’d have to miss the dance.” After communion, the greatest gift of all, I thought how God must have been watching me, his child, open the many gifts that He had so carefully wrapped for me this weekend. He patiently waited for my response as at first I did not recognize the gifts. Finally, this morning as I truly discovered the gifts, my heart was full of joy and God, like my mother, no doubt enjoyed seeing the look on my face.
The point I want to share is that each day we are presented with our crosses. I now see in a new way how joy can come from embracing those crosses and striving to carry them well. I don’t mean to make myself sound like some overly pious guy who always gets it right. I just finally got through the last layer of paper and want to share the gifts with you.
Pax Tecum,
Tom
Christmas, on the other hand, was pure torture. My mom and dad would set the wrapped presents (except the ones that Santa brought of course) underneath the tree as they wrapped them in the days leading up to Christmas. We kids would often stealthily make our way to the presents when no one was looking in order to carefully inspect them. We would shake, squeeze, feel, and weigh the package to see if we could match it up to an item that we had placed on our list. My mom used to get upset on Christmas morning when she would hand us a package and we would immediately say, “I know what this one is!” She often accused us of ruining Christmas with our guessing games. I never realized it back then that my mother’s real joy in giving us the gift was to watch the look on our face as we unwrapped the present. Her gift was watching the smile on our faces and seeing her children full of happiness.
My mom then got creative in the way she packaged our presents. One year my mom gave one of the kids a small Fisher Price toy crane. I can’t remember whose gift it was originally but mom saved the box and then used it to package other gifts in the years to come. Every year after that one of us would open the gift and be confused for a minute thinking we received a toy crane. Everyone else who was in on the secret would laugh as the real gift was hidden inside the box. Eventually we all knew the secret and took turns using the box to hide our gifts over the years. I am not sure whatever happened to that box but the memory has stuck with me. Nowadays, I rarely spend time wrapping gifts and sometimes just hand them over to people. However, I still love to receive a wrapped present as part of the gift is finding out what is hidden underneath the paper.
This weekend I received an assortment of gifts all of which were wrapped in many layers. I want to share with you the experience of unwrapping these gifts and the joy that I felt once I recognized the gifts that I had received. My hope is that you will be able to un-wrap a few experiences in your life and find the gift that awaits your discovery.
Friday afternoon I arrived at the airport in Omaha, NE, full of anticipation as I was heading home to College Station for my pastor’s 25th Anniversary of Ordination to the Priesthood. As the plane began its descent into the Dallas/Ft. Worth the captain announced that due to bad weather at the airport we would divert to Tulsa, OK. We landed in Tulsa safely and waited patiently for our turn to fuel up the plane. After an hour of waiting on the tarmac we pulled into the gate. The plane was refueled and then we learned that weather had once again closed the airport. When we finally got clearance to depart for DFW a mechanical problem was discovered. We sat on the plane for another two hours before they decided to change planes. By this time I had missed my connection to Austin and was trying to figure out what I would do. I called some friends in Dallas and left a message for them to call me as I thought I might be stranded in Dallas for the night. We arrived in Dallas at 11PM. By the grace of God my friend was near the airport and came to pick me up (the first gift!). As my friend and I arrived at his apartment his fiancée had already prepared a place for me to sleep in the living room. Despite the delays and the unplanned stop in Dallas my mood was pretty upbeat. I was happy to visit with my friend and his fiancée and share with them the many graces I have received this summer. After four short hours of sleep I was headed back to the airport to catch the first flight to College Station.
I arrived in College Station at 10:15 AM. I was enthusiastically greeted at the airport by a dear friend who then drove me immediately to St. Thomas Aquinas Church. I arrived at the church twenty minutes before Mass began. I was worried about being on time as I had been asked to be a lector. As I sat down to pray before the Mass began I was already exhausted. I asked God to help me proclaim His word in a worthy manner and to sustain me throughout the day. As I sat down in the pew after the reading I thought of how much I enjoyed being a lector and how much I have missed it since I have been in seminary (another unexpected gift!). The Mass was absolutely beautiful and a fitting celebration of one man’s twenty-five year commitment to bringing Christ to others as well as the eternal priesthood of Jesus Christ.
I spent the next two hours at the reception visiting with many friends and parishioners. It seemed that every time I finished talking to someone another appeared in their place. While I enjoyed the conversations I will admit to you that I was tired, hungry, and thirsty. My feet hurt and my back was killing me from being on the plane the night before. Despite these feelings I was thrilled to visit with these friends (another gift!). My only regret is that I did not get to spend more time with them.
After the reception I made my way over to my best friend’s house to meet his newborn son. I was in Omaha when he was born and he was now a month old. My friend was at work but I was able to visit his wife and son. I brought a gift (a stuffed animal) for my friend’s daughter but she was taking a nap and neither I nor her mother wanted to wake her. I was disappointed that I would not get to see her on this trip. I cannot explain to you how much it warmed my heart to sit and hold my friend’s newborn son. It was truly a gift! After about thirty minutes, I realized that I had not eaten since 6AM and needed to go get some lunch.
After lunch I spent some time in the adoration chapel at my parish. I was exhausted as I collapsed in the pew. I fell into deep meditation (i.e. sleep) before the Blessed Sacrament. I hope I was not snoring and bothering those who had gathered to pray. When I opened my eyes twenty minutes later I received another gift but I am going to save that one for later as this post is already too long. After my holy hour I went back to the Church to attend the vigil Mass as I would be traveling all day Sunday and unable to get to Mass. I was happy to hear that our new parochial vicar was celebrating his first weekend Mass at the parish (another gift!). After Mass I attended a dinner party with my pastor and several friends and parishioners.
I finally left the party at 10PM and then met my best friend at his work. There have been many changes in both of our lives that have prevented us from spending much time with one another. I only got to visit with him for about thirty minutes but I appreciated every one of them. I told him I would see him in a month and then headed for home. When I arrived home I was greeted by who I consider to be my little brother. We talked for about fifteen minutes. The time was short but much was said. I finally collapsed in bed at midnight. It had been a full day but one that was full of love and gift.
The alarm clock went off entirely too soon on Sunday morning. I got up, showered, packed, printed my boarding passes and had a nice breakfast with the family. Due to the change in my travel plans I did not have a way to get to the airport in Austin for my 12:50 PM flight. Rose, the mom, offered to drive me to the airport. This was an unexpected gift as it gave us almost two hours to visit and discuss many things. Had things gone according to the original plan we would not have had this time to visit.
After arriving at the airport in Austin I went through security and tried to get on an earlier flight to Dallas. Not only was there no room on the earlier flight but I learned that my original flight had been canceled due to a mechanical problem. I called the airline and was rebooked on a flight to Chicago later that day. Now I knew who God wanted me to see when I was stuck in Dallas but I couldn’t think of anyone in Chicago that God would want me to visit. I spent the next six hours in the Austin airport. I exchanged many texts and phone calls with people as I informed them of the new plans. I treated myself to some Salt Lick BBQ and Amy’s ice cream for lunch (things only a true Austinite can appreciate). My best friend then sent me a text of a picture of his daughter who slept with the stuffed animal I had given her. It made my day and made the stay in the airport a little easier. When I finally arrived in Chicago I learned that my connecting flight to Omaha would be delayed due to another mechanical problem. We switched aircraft and moved to a different gate. At this point the skies opened up and the airport was shut down for a few hours due to weather. I couldn’t help but laugh. If there was a gift in this experience God used the entire roll of wrapping paper and several toy crane boxes to hide it. I tried to remain as positive as possible as we finally boarded our flight and headed home.
I arrived in Omaha at 11:40PM. I was beat. I was exhausted. I was a tad bit impatient. I collapsed in my bed knowing that I had an early wake up call. As I sat before Mass this morning I thought to myself of all the gifts that I received this weekend. I could have easily spent all this time complaining about the many difficulties but I share them with you only in the hopes that you will see what God showed me. In the midst of all these unplanned changes, struggles, inconveniences, etc. God blessed with many amazing gifts. He allowed me to love and be loved. He allowed me to be with some of the people I love the most. I was happy as I felt that I had lived the weekend well. There were many crosses but you cannot have the resurrection without the cross. Two phrases come to my mind. One of them is from Sacred Scripture “Without cost you have received, without cost you are to give” (Mt 10:8) and from a less sacred source, “I could have missed the pain, but then I’d have to miss the dance.” After communion, the greatest gift of all, I thought how God must have been watching me, his child, open the many gifts that He had so carefully wrapped for me this weekend. He patiently waited for my response as at first I did not recognize the gifts. Finally, this morning as I truly discovered the gifts, my heart was full of joy and God, like my mother, no doubt enjoyed seeing the look on my face.
The point I want to share is that each day we are presented with our crosses. I now see in a new way how joy can come from embracing those crosses and striving to carry them well. I don’t mean to make myself sound like some overly pious guy who always gets it right. I just finally got through the last layer of paper and want to share the gifts with you.
Pax Tecum,
Tom
Friday, May 21, 2010
Coming to a Parish Newsletter Near You...
Sorry for not posting in a while folks. The last semester of seminary at HTS was a difficult one that kept me on my toes most of the time. After several requests I have decided to recommit myself to updating this blog on a more frequent basis. There are several experiences from the past year that I hope to share with you this summer. I will spend my summer at the Institute for Priestly Formation in Omaha, NE. It is a ten week course in prayer and spirituality. I look forward to the laid back environment and the freedom to spend a significant amount of time in prayer with our Lord.
For now, I will leave you with this article that I wrote for our parish newsletter. It may or may not be published soon.
Pax Tecum,
Tom
“Come. Follow Me.”
These are the first words Jesus spoke to his disciples. The words are an invitation to each disciple to leave behind his old way of life and accompany Jesus on His mission. It is an invitation that is extended to each of us everyday in various ways.
In April of 2006, I heard these words as Jesus’ invitation to consider becoming a Catholic Priest. I wish that I could say that I responded as quickly or as generously as did the disciples. My response came in the form of two years of prayer, reading, spiritual direction, and retreats whereby I tried to discern if Jesus was in fact inviting me to follow him as a priest. Eventually, in August of 2008, I began my studies as a seminarian at Holy Trinity Seminary (HTS) in Irving, TX.
The seminary is a place where young men live, pray, study, and work together to discern what God is asking them to do with their lives. The daily schedule varies from seminary to seminary. A typical day for us at HTS is to gather for Morning Prayer and Mass at 6:30 AM followed by breakfast. The rest of our day is spent attending classes, attending various meetings, studying, and recreating. At 5:15 PM we gather in the chapel for Evening Prayer followed by a time of mediation. The evening concludes with dinner as a community. Once a week we are asked to go out to various ministry assignments including: teaching RCIA, hospital chaplaincy, nursing home visits, and working at the local Catholic Radio Station. The weekends are mostly free for study and relaxation.
During the first few years of seminary, the goal of formation is to focus on our universal call to holiness. The program is designed to form each seminarian in four areas: Spirituality, Pastoral Skills, Human Formation, and Intellectual formation. The program is not focused primarily on teaching seminarians how to do the things a priest does but is instead focused on teaching us to become priestly people. The program helps us realize that we are called not only to be holy but to be whole as well.
To be honest, this is perhaps the most difficult and yet most grace-filled part of seminary. Each seminarian is afforded the unique opportunity to spend time in prayer encountering himself and identifying the areas in his life in which God is asking him to grow. It is in these areas where I find myself drawn closest to God. It is also a time to identify our strengths and to give thanks to God for the gifts He has given us. Admittedly, it is a difficult process but one that bears much fruit.
I have taken great comfort in re-reading the journey of the disciples as they follow Jesus. There are times when they got it right and other times where they denied our Lord. Each time I reflect on their lives, I find myself encouraged by the end of John’s Gospel as Peter stands on the shore with Jesus. Despite his previous successes and failings, Peter is able to confidently tell the Risen Lord, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” To which, Jesus ends the conversation with the words by which the whole journey began, “Follow me.” (Jn 21:17b,19b).
As I continue in my journey to respond to the Lord’s invitation to follow Him, I know not where it will lead. I pray that in five years I will be ordained a Catholic Priest. As I transition from HTS to St. Mary’s Seminary in Houston, TX this fall, I ask for your continued prayers and support for me, for my brother seminarian Greg Gerhart, and all seminarians. I also encourage all of us, especially the young men and women, to listen attentively to God’s invitation to follow Him according to His will for your life. For as the psalmist says, “To do your will, O Lord, is my delight.”
For now, I will leave you with this article that I wrote for our parish newsletter. It may or may not be published soon.
Pax Tecum,
Tom
“Come. Follow Me.”
These are the first words Jesus spoke to his disciples. The words are an invitation to each disciple to leave behind his old way of life and accompany Jesus on His mission. It is an invitation that is extended to each of us everyday in various ways.
In April of 2006, I heard these words as Jesus’ invitation to consider becoming a Catholic Priest. I wish that I could say that I responded as quickly or as generously as did the disciples. My response came in the form of two years of prayer, reading, spiritual direction, and retreats whereby I tried to discern if Jesus was in fact inviting me to follow him as a priest. Eventually, in August of 2008, I began my studies as a seminarian at Holy Trinity Seminary (HTS) in Irving, TX.
The seminary is a place where young men live, pray, study, and work together to discern what God is asking them to do with their lives. The daily schedule varies from seminary to seminary. A typical day for us at HTS is to gather for Morning Prayer and Mass at 6:30 AM followed by breakfast. The rest of our day is spent attending classes, attending various meetings, studying, and recreating. At 5:15 PM we gather in the chapel for Evening Prayer followed by a time of mediation. The evening concludes with dinner as a community. Once a week we are asked to go out to various ministry assignments including: teaching RCIA, hospital chaplaincy, nursing home visits, and working at the local Catholic Radio Station. The weekends are mostly free for study and relaxation.
During the first few years of seminary, the goal of formation is to focus on our universal call to holiness. The program is designed to form each seminarian in four areas: Spirituality, Pastoral Skills, Human Formation, and Intellectual formation. The program is not focused primarily on teaching seminarians how to do the things a priest does but is instead focused on teaching us to become priestly people. The program helps us realize that we are called not only to be holy but to be whole as well.
To be honest, this is perhaps the most difficult and yet most grace-filled part of seminary. Each seminarian is afforded the unique opportunity to spend time in prayer encountering himself and identifying the areas in his life in which God is asking him to grow. It is in these areas where I find myself drawn closest to God. It is also a time to identify our strengths and to give thanks to God for the gifts He has given us. Admittedly, it is a difficult process but one that bears much fruit.
I have taken great comfort in re-reading the journey of the disciples as they follow Jesus. There are times when they got it right and other times where they denied our Lord. Each time I reflect on their lives, I find myself encouraged by the end of John’s Gospel as Peter stands on the shore with Jesus. Despite his previous successes and failings, Peter is able to confidently tell the Risen Lord, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” To which, Jesus ends the conversation with the words by which the whole journey began, “Follow me.” (Jn 21:17b,19b).
As I continue in my journey to respond to the Lord’s invitation to follow Him, I know not where it will lead. I pray that in five years I will be ordained a Catholic Priest. As I transition from HTS to St. Mary’s Seminary in Houston, TX this fall, I ask for your continued prayers and support for me, for my brother seminarian Greg Gerhart, and all seminarians. I also encourage all of us, especially the young men and women, to listen attentively to God’s invitation to follow Him according to His will for your life. For as the psalmist says, “To do your will, O Lord, is my delight.”
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