Last night two of my friends went with me to see the movie Inception as a cinema here in Antigua, Guatemala. All of us have seen the movie before, but when your options of things to do on a Saturday night is limited, going to watch a free movie doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. For those of you who have not seen the movie yet, stop reading this, rent/buy the movie, and read this later. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait…
Ok, if you kept reading without watching the movie then I don’t feel bad for the spoiler that is about to come in the next few sentences. The general premise of the movie is that a group of people who possess the technology to extract ideas from people’s subconscious while they are dreaming attempt to implant an idea into someone’s head. As the story unravels we find out that not only is it possible to plant an idea but the leader of the group (DiCaprio’s character) has actually done it. DiCaprio’s character planted an idea in his wife’s mind that became so powerful that it took over her life. Eventually it caused her to be unable to distinguish what is real and what isn’t. The simple suggestion by her husband in a dream-like state was enough to change her entire life and eventually would lead her to her death. Don’t blame me for the spoiler, I warned you!
I bring this up not to give you a commentary or a review of one of Hollywood’s greatest movies. While I was watching this movie last night it added fuel to a fire that had been burning in my mind all week. As I have been praying with the gospel reading for this week (Sower and the seed), I have been fixed on the thought of how much power our words can have in another person’s life.
Most of the times I have previously focused on this passage of Scripture (Mt 13:1-23), I have focused on Christ as the sower, the Word of God as the seed, and us as the soil. Honestly, this is probably the best exegesis of the passage (since in this case Jesus is the exegete) and I don’t intend to change it. I have always focused on what type of soil can be found in my heart. Will the Word of God, when sown in my direction, find itself falling on rock ground, dry arid soil, or the rich fertile soil that is necessary for it to take root and bear fruit. This meditation has served me well in the past and I am sure will serve me well in the future.
However, this week I have been looking at the parable from the other side. As baptized Christians we too are called to join in Christ’s mission and be sowers of His Word in the life of others. Many times we are aware of our mission and make intentional efforts to evangelize either through word or deed. Occasionally we are guilty of sowing the seed of God’s Word only in those areas where we think it will take root and bear fruit. We decided that there is no point in wasting seed or effort on rocky and infertile ground. Other times we stumble across the fruit of God’s seed being planted in fertile soil and wonder how it got there. Who was the sower in this situation? Was it me? What did I say?
There have been several times in my life when I knew that my words would deeply impact the person who would hear them. Anyone who has been a police officer for any period of time knows what it is like to tell a set of parents that their child will not be coming home. At the time of this event in my life, I knew very well what pain and sorrow would follow the words that I had to share. I had received a similar call just a few months before. To keep up with the analogy of the gospel, I knew what kind of seed I was sowing. What I did not know was what kind of fruit it would bear. I had no way of knowing that this event would forever have an impact of my life of faith and my relationship with God. While I expected weeds to grow in this situation, I was surprised by some of the most beautiful flowers that God could create.
I am also well aware of the effects that other people’s words have had in my life. Some of them were cast in my direction with the intention of causing me pain or injury. Others were said in a careless manner but took root nonetheless and had a great impact in my life. Like the weeds among the wheat, some of them have simply remained for fear of uprooting the wheat along with the weeds.
What’s my point? This week I have been reminded that my words, whether I directly intend them too or not can have a powerful effect on the lives of others. I have had several conversations with people only to have them come back several days later and thank me for having said what I said. Some of the conversations were nothing more than a smile and a simple “hello” or “howdy.” Other times the conversations lasted for hours and covered a wide variety of topics. To be honest, most of the time I don’t even recall what was said. Other times I have shared stories about my life with others and then later sat and wondered why I revealed that much about myself to another person. It was only later that I would discover that the person found something in what I had to say that was useful to them.
At the same time I have realized that my words have (at times) had a negative effect on those around me as well. My complaining about one situation or another can cause those around me to also become negative about a given situation. My careless use of speech can cause another person a great deal of pain or hurt. My lack of humility at times or my moments of intolerance have the potential to affect someone’s faith life. I guess what I am trying to say it that there is a greater amount of responsibility that each of us bears in terms of choosing our words carefully. It is a responsibility that each of us has as baptized Christians. We are both the sower and the soil.
So, this week, instead of focusing on what type of soil is in my heart and whether or not God’s word will take root there, I am focusing on becoming more aware of the potential effects (both positive and negative) my words can have on the lives of those around me. I am going to try and make sure that I am not planting seeds that will grow into weeds and choke the life out of the wheat that should be growing there instead.
Pax tecum,
Tom
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Sunday, July 3, 2011
“Poco a Poco”
“Little by Little.” This little phrase quickly became my motto for my time here in Antigua, Guatemala. As I have mentioned before, I have been assigned to a Spanish immersion program in Antigua for eight weeks this summer. In addition to taking six hours of class each day, I spend part of my time walking around the city, taking trips to other parts of the country, and speaking with my family and other locals in an attempt to learn a little bit about the culture of the ‘Guatemaltecos’. I must admit that it has been a slow process for me, both in learning Spanish and in learning to appreciate the many different cultures that are present here. I have come to realize that my lack of patience extends well beyond my attempts to bridge the cultural gaps and to learn a foreign language. I realize, as I have said in other posts, that God is using this time to teach me not only Spanish, but another language that only the heart can speak and understand.
It did not take me long in Antigua to realize that my expectations for learning the entire Spanish language in eight weeks were completely unreasonable. For some reason I had it in my head that for this summer to be a true success, I had to return to the States being fluent in Spanish. Each day as I would sit in class, I would become extremely frustrated with what I perceived to be my own lack of progress. I get frustrated when learning the subtle differences between the Pluscuamperfecto and the Present Perfect tense. I get frustrated by my inability to fully express what I want to say when I am having a spiritual conversation with my teacher. I have found it extremely frustrating to have something that you really want to say but don’t have the means or the capacity to say it. It is like having a gift that you desperately want to give but for one reason or other are unable to let go of it. My teacher can see the frustration written all over my face. After about 5.5 hours she can see me slowly shutting down. My progress comes to a near halt as my frustration sets in and dominates my demeanor.
However, the true problem lies not in the fact that I am not making progress in learning Spanish. The truth is I have made a great deal of progress in the last four weeks. The real problem lies in my perspective. The problem is the set of discolored lenses through which I view my own progress. At times the lenses are nothing more than blinders that prevent me from seeing anything. At other times they are like the ‘drunk goggles’ that police officers and educators use to teach people what it is like to drive while intoxicated. With these glasses everything seems blurry and shapes are difficult to see. At other times my blindness to my own progress seems to be similar to ‘night blindness’ that is caused by improper (or vitamin deficient) nutrition. Regardless of the cause, the inability to see my own progress becomes a rapidly spreading virus that affects the rest of my life. Sometimes the only way I can see my progress is when someone else points it out to me. In the case of learning Spanish, my teacher has repeatedly tried to point this out but, for one reason or the other, I couldn’t accept what she was saying.
Recently, I posted a few pictures of me after being in Guatemala for a few weeks. In addition to the many compliments I received about my beard (Thank you), several people told me that it looked like I have lost weight. Each time I deflected the comment and said that I don’t think I have lost weight. I told them that I feel like I have gained weight. Despite the fact that my pants are getting a little bigger (literally not figuratively) and I am on the last hole on my belt, I wasn’t ready to accept the truth of my progress in losing weight. Perhaps it was because I could not take credit for the success. After all, I have not been trying to lose weight whilst I am here. I have not been watching what I eat and I thought I had been eating too many carbs. Yesterday, I got on the scale at the local hospital (one that you pay about 12.5 cents to use) and realized that I have lost 10-11 pounds in the last month. I could not deny the progress with that degree of certainty. I can only hope that the scale is more accurate than the lottery numbers it gave me after telling me my weight. I had to ask myself, ‘Why is it that you only admit your progress when you have some degree of certainty or objective measurement that progress has been made?”
The truth is, for many things in our life, there is no objective measurement of our progress. I don’t write these reflections merely as a means of public confession or to get things off my chest. I write about myself in the hope that you find something in what I have said that allows you to draw your own conclusions about how God is working in your own life. Whether we are talking about losing weight, learning a foreign language, growing in our relationship with the Lord, reconciling with a family member or co-worker, desperately hoping that we have raised our children right and that they will make the right decisions, living in the later years of our life wondering if what we have done has made a difference and what is left for us to do, wondering if our time in a particular assignment or position has made a difference, preparing to leave the comforts of home to begin college or start a new career, struggling to grow in our spiritual lives and relationship with the Lord, or working to reconcile a marriage that seems beyond repair, we must be patient with our progress. We should take a step back and realize that at times it is difficult to see our progress from our own perspective.
For this reason we should take into account the trusted counsel of our dear friends, priests, counselors, faculty advisors, family, and most importantly, the Lord Jesus Christ. After all it is God who has designed our lives and has made plans for our lives, “plans for good and not for woe.” (Jeremiah 29:11). It is God who sees the final product and it is He who directs our hands. Our job is merely to do the task that is assigned to us each day (i.e. to love one another as He has loved us). It is God who is the master builder of all of Creation and will be there in the end to see His plans brought to fruition. With this in mind I am reminded of a poem by the late Archbishop Oscar Romero called the “Long View.” I hope you won’t mind me sharing it with you now even though this is already a long post:
It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the Church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own. – Archbishop Oscar Romero
With this prayer from Archbishop Romero in mind as well as the examples provided above I offer my own prayer for myself and perhaps for some of you as well (if you think it applies to you):
Almighty God and Father, thank you for allowing me to play a small part in building up your kingdom. Help me to focus on the task at hand each and every day. Help me to follow your plans and design for my life and avoid relying on my own intelligence (Prov 3:5-6) or passions in directing my life. Guide my hands, my words, my actions, and my desires to complete the work you want me to do each day. Grant me the grace to abandon my own desires of seeing the final product before its proper time. Allow me to love each day knowing that this is the most important task you have given me. Help me to trust in the fact that progress is being made towards living a life in full communion with you especially in those times when I can’t see it. Help me to continue this progress, even if it is “poco a poco.”
Pax tecum,
Tom
It did not take me long in Antigua to realize that my expectations for learning the entire Spanish language in eight weeks were completely unreasonable. For some reason I had it in my head that for this summer to be a true success, I had to return to the States being fluent in Spanish. Each day as I would sit in class, I would become extremely frustrated with what I perceived to be my own lack of progress. I get frustrated when learning the subtle differences between the Pluscuamperfecto and the Present Perfect tense. I get frustrated by my inability to fully express what I want to say when I am having a spiritual conversation with my teacher. I have found it extremely frustrating to have something that you really want to say but don’t have the means or the capacity to say it. It is like having a gift that you desperately want to give but for one reason or other are unable to let go of it. My teacher can see the frustration written all over my face. After about 5.5 hours she can see me slowly shutting down. My progress comes to a near halt as my frustration sets in and dominates my demeanor.
However, the true problem lies not in the fact that I am not making progress in learning Spanish. The truth is I have made a great deal of progress in the last four weeks. The real problem lies in my perspective. The problem is the set of discolored lenses through which I view my own progress. At times the lenses are nothing more than blinders that prevent me from seeing anything. At other times they are like the ‘drunk goggles’ that police officers and educators use to teach people what it is like to drive while intoxicated. With these glasses everything seems blurry and shapes are difficult to see. At other times my blindness to my own progress seems to be similar to ‘night blindness’ that is caused by improper (or vitamin deficient) nutrition. Regardless of the cause, the inability to see my own progress becomes a rapidly spreading virus that affects the rest of my life. Sometimes the only way I can see my progress is when someone else points it out to me. In the case of learning Spanish, my teacher has repeatedly tried to point this out but, for one reason or the other, I couldn’t accept what she was saying.
Recently, I posted a few pictures of me after being in Guatemala for a few weeks. In addition to the many compliments I received about my beard (Thank you), several people told me that it looked like I have lost weight. Each time I deflected the comment and said that I don’t think I have lost weight. I told them that I feel like I have gained weight. Despite the fact that my pants are getting a little bigger (literally not figuratively) and I am on the last hole on my belt, I wasn’t ready to accept the truth of my progress in losing weight. Perhaps it was because I could not take credit for the success. After all, I have not been trying to lose weight whilst I am here. I have not been watching what I eat and I thought I had been eating too many carbs. Yesterday, I got on the scale at the local hospital (one that you pay about 12.5 cents to use) and realized that I have lost 10-11 pounds in the last month. I could not deny the progress with that degree of certainty. I can only hope that the scale is more accurate than the lottery numbers it gave me after telling me my weight. I had to ask myself, ‘Why is it that you only admit your progress when you have some degree of certainty or objective measurement that progress has been made?”
The truth is, for many things in our life, there is no objective measurement of our progress. I don’t write these reflections merely as a means of public confession or to get things off my chest. I write about myself in the hope that you find something in what I have said that allows you to draw your own conclusions about how God is working in your own life. Whether we are talking about losing weight, learning a foreign language, growing in our relationship with the Lord, reconciling with a family member or co-worker, desperately hoping that we have raised our children right and that they will make the right decisions, living in the later years of our life wondering if what we have done has made a difference and what is left for us to do, wondering if our time in a particular assignment or position has made a difference, preparing to leave the comforts of home to begin college or start a new career, struggling to grow in our spiritual lives and relationship with the Lord, or working to reconcile a marriage that seems beyond repair, we must be patient with our progress. We should take a step back and realize that at times it is difficult to see our progress from our own perspective.
For this reason we should take into account the trusted counsel of our dear friends, priests, counselors, faculty advisors, family, and most importantly, the Lord Jesus Christ. After all it is God who has designed our lives and has made plans for our lives, “plans for good and not for woe.” (Jeremiah 29:11). It is God who sees the final product and it is He who directs our hands. Our job is merely to do the task that is assigned to us each day (i.e. to love one another as He has loved us). It is God who is the master builder of all of Creation and will be there in the end to see His plans brought to fruition. With this in mind I am reminded of a poem by the late Archbishop Oscar Romero called the “Long View.” I hope you won’t mind me sharing it with you now even though this is already a long post:
It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the Church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own. – Archbishop Oscar Romero
With this prayer from Archbishop Romero in mind as well as the examples provided above I offer my own prayer for myself and perhaps for some of you as well (if you think it applies to you):
Almighty God and Father, thank you for allowing me to play a small part in building up your kingdom. Help me to focus on the task at hand each and every day. Help me to follow your plans and design for my life and avoid relying on my own intelligence (Prov 3:5-6) or passions in directing my life. Guide my hands, my words, my actions, and my desires to complete the work you want me to do each day. Grant me the grace to abandon my own desires of seeing the final product before its proper time. Allow me to love each day knowing that this is the most important task you have given me. Help me to trust in the fact that progress is being made towards living a life in full communion with you especially in those times when I can’t see it. Help me to continue this progress, even if it is “poco a poco.”
Pax tecum,
Tom
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
“Entremos a la presencia del Señor dándole gracias.”
“Let us enter into the presence of the Lord giving him thanks.” This phrase is taken from the Invitatory for Monday Week I in the Liturgy of the Hours. As I prayed this simple line this morning, I realized that it summed up for me most of what I have felt God has been trying to tell me for the past few weeks. In this post (just shy of a public confession) I hope to share with you how I have come to understand what this line means for me and my life. In doing so, my prayer is that you will benefit in some way as well.
I must confess that I often fail to be grateful for the many gifts that God has given me in my life. Chances are if you are reading this, you are one of those gifts in my life. I tend to think that I am not alone when I say that I tend to focus on the things that have been taken away from me or the things that I lack rather than appreciate all that I have been given. I have become very good at determining what is missing from a given situation and how I would change things to make them better. I often bemoan the loss of a prized possession such as my car, my house, my proximity to friends and family, my career, or perhaps simply the opportunity to have more quiet time. No matter how big or how small the item, I have at times measured my life not by what has been given, but by what has been taken away.
Recently, it seems like there have been a lot of big changes in my life including changes in my relationships with friends, family, pastors, other seminarians, etc. Many of these changes I did / do not appreciate. Admittedly, I am still working with a few of them in order to see them as gifts. In the past few weeks I have caught myself assembling a list of complaints of things that I would like to change in my life one way or the other. I have realized that instead of the items of the list growing smaller in number, the list tends to increase exponentially as the days pass by. This leads to an overall sense of dissatisfaction or a feeling of ‘missing the mark.’ I chose my words here carefully because the Greek word used most often for ‘sin’ in the Bible is harmartia (αρμαρτια) which loosely translated means ‘to miss the mark.’ The sin then is my lack of gratefulness to God for the gifts he has freely given me and my dwelling instead on what has been seemingly been unjustly taken away.
These past few weeks in Guatemala have helped me appreciate many things in my life that I have taken for granted. Don’t worry this will not be an outpouring of Catholic guilt where I renounce all forms of capitalism and a competitive free market because of the material poverty I have seen here; nor will it be a discourse on Catholic social teaching and a more just distribution of wealth in the world (although that one may be coming later). A few examples to help give you the idea of what I am talking about are: waking up in the morning without running water and being unable to take a shower, sleeping in a place with loud trucks outside my window at 4am and a rooster who likes to crow about his long lost love for hours on end beginning promptly at 3:30am, not being able to drink the water from the tap, having to walk in the rain everyday (I know I shouldn’t even bring this one up right now with a Texas audience but there is such a thing as too much rain!), not being able to run out and grab a Whataburger and a Shiner Bock beer, etc. These are just a few of the little things that I miss. However, I still haven’t gotten to my point have I?
This past weekend nine other seminarians and I went on what should have been a spiritual retreat at a Benedictine Monastery and minor seminary in Quetzaltenango (the Mayan name for the city is Xela). Many of us were looking forward to periods of silent prayer free of the noise that we seemed to be unable to escape from in Antigua. I can honestly say that arriving at the seminary was a breathtaking experience. This wasn’t as much due to the beautiful landscape as it was to the fact that we were over 7,500 ft above sea level and I was having trouble adjusting. When we arrived at the seminary after a 4.5 hour bus ride on a less than comfortable school bus with complimentary motion sickness, we were less than pleased to find out that nine of us would be sharing a single room with one bathroom. We were even more surprised as we joined the other seminarians for dinner only to discover how well we have actually been eating in Antigua. I admit that initially I was less than grateful for the food that was put on the plate before me. There were several other experiences including cold showers, a jam packed schedule of activities, and rush hour traffic in the city that left at least some of us wondering why we came in the first place. My list of complaints was growing.
When I woke up Sunday morning and took another cold shower and choked down a horrible cup of coffee, I sat down to pray my rosary. As I continued to pray I realized that I could not hear anything other than the birds chirping outside. It was quiet. Many of the other guys were still asleep and I was able to spend some quiet time in prayer. Whether it was the Holy Spirit or my own guilt ridden conscience (definitely the first but perhaps both), I realized how ungrateful I have been for the many gifts in my life. After three weeks of trying to explain the English expression “you can’t see the forest for the trees” to my Spanish teacher, I realized that despite the number of times I had uttered this phrase I did not realize that I should be saying it to myself. I have been so focused on the things in my life that have been taken away or that I still lack (both material and non-material things) that I have been blind to the many gifts that God has given me. I am so hyper-aware of the perceived faults in others, or the manner in which I am sometimes annoyed by them, that I fail to see them as the gift that they are. At times I focus more on the ways in which my life in the seminary could be better than I do appreciating what my time in the seminary has done for my life. I find myself overlooking the many generous people (I am talking about you here! Please listen!) who make it possible for me to discern the Lord’s call. During this short time of praying the rosary and meditation my mind was flooded with all that I have to be grateful for.
For the rest of the day I tried to play a little game. Every time I saw something that I perceived to be negative or anytime I was tempted to complain, I tried to find one or two things for which I was thankful. Admittedly, I was pretty terrible at this game in the beginning. As time went by throughout the day, I found myself being increasingly grateful even for the small crosses that were placed in my path. I intentionally tried to thank God for each moment of the day. In the particularly tough moments, I asked for the grace to see the gift in the situation. I could feel the change slowly taking place. Later that night, as the neighbor’s dog and the rooster entered into a heated discussion for two hours (presumably about whether dogs or roosters are louder) from 4-6am, I found myself giving thanks that at least I had a roof over my head and a warm bed. When I woke up to running water that wasn’t going to give me frostbite, I gave thanks. When I received emails from two very dear friends that put a smile on my face, I gave thanks. When I was able to make a housemate feel appreciated on his birthday even though he is a far distance from home, I gave thanks. When a friend invited me to go across town to the Cathedral to spend time in adoration before going to Mass, I gave thanks. As I sit here writing this reflection, knowing that you are reading it, I am giving thanks for the part you have played in my life and my journey to the priesthood (Ojala!). As a result, I find that I am beginning to feel a great sense of joy in my heart. Perhaps today was just a good day. Perhaps there was no big conversion and I won’t continue to be grateful for the rest of my life. Perhaps I will return to my old ways and complain more than I give thanks. Perhaps these thoughts were a result of a high-altitude induced state of oxygen deprivation. Whatever the case, I can tell you that I am at least increasing my efforts to being a man of the ‘Eucharist’ in the true sense of the word (thanksgiving). I am trying to be more like the one leper who returned to give thanks after he was cured rather than one of the nine who simply walked away. As a result, the scales are slowly falling from my eyes and I like what I see. With the clearer vision my aim is improving and is allowing me to hit the mark more than I miss it.
Oh yeah, by the way, the forest is actually pretty beautiful once you take your eyes off the one tree and look around a little. I am sorry that I don’t have a picture of it to show you, but then again, it is probably better that we all take a look for ourselves.
Please pray for me as I am praying for all of you. “Entremos a la presencia del Señor dándole gracias.”
Pax tecum,
Tom
I must confess that I often fail to be grateful for the many gifts that God has given me in my life. Chances are if you are reading this, you are one of those gifts in my life. I tend to think that I am not alone when I say that I tend to focus on the things that have been taken away from me or the things that I lack rather than appreciate all that I have been given. I have become very good at determining what is missing from a given situation and how I would change things to make them better. I often bemoan the loss of a prized possession such as my car, my house, my proximity to friends and family, my career, or perhaps simply the opportunity to have more quiet time. No matter how big or how small the item, I have at times measured my life not by what has been given, but by what has been taken away.
Recently, it seems like there have been a lot of big changes in my life including changes in my relationships with friends, family, pastors, other seminarians, etc. Many of these changes I did / do not appreciate. Admittedly, I am still working with a few of them in order to see them as gifts. In the past few weeks I have caught myself assembling a list of complaints of things that I would like to change in my life one way or the other. I have realized that instead of the items of the list growing smaller in number, the list tends to increase exponentially as the days pass by. This leads to an overall sense of dissatisfaction or a feeling of ‘missing the mark.’ I chose my words here carefully because the Greek word used most often for ‘sin’ in the Bible is harmartia (αρμαρτια) which loosely translated means ‘to miss the mark.’ The sin then is my lack of gratefulness to God for the gifts he has freely given me and my dwelling instead on what has been seemingly been unjustly taken away.
These past few weeks in Guatemala have helped me appreciate many things in my life that I have taken for granted. Don’t worry this will not be an outpouring of Catholic guilt where I renounce all forms of capitalism and a competitive free market because of the material poverty I have seen here; nor will it be a discourse on Catholic social teaching and a more just distribution of wealth in the world (although that one may be coming later). A few examples to help give you the idea of what I am talking about are: waking up in the morning without running water and being unable to take a shower, sleeping in a place with loud trucks outside my window at 4am and a rooster who likes to crow about his long lost love for hours on end beginning promptly at 3:30am, not being able to drink the water from the tap, having to walk in the rain everyday (I know I shouldn’t even bring this one up right now with a Texas audience but there is such a thing as too much rain!), not being able to run out and grab a Whataburger and a Shiner Bock beer, etc. These are just a few of the little things that I miss. However, I still haven’t gotten to my point have I?
This past weekend nine other seminarians and I went on what should have been a spiritual retreat at a Benedictine Monastery and minor seminary in Quetzaltenango (the Mayan name for the city is Xela). Many of us were looking forward to periods of silent prayer free of the noise that we seemed to be unable to escape from in Antigua. I can honestly say that arriving at the seminary was a breathtaking experience. This wasn’t as much due to the beautiful landscape as it was to the fact that we were over 7,500 ft above sea level and I was having trouble adjusting. When we arrived at the seminary after a 4.5 hour bus ride on a less than comfortable school bus with complimentary motion sickness, we were less than pleased to find out that nine of us would be sharing a single room with one bathroom. We were even more surprised as we joined the other seminarians for dinner only to discover how well we have actually been eating in Antigua. I admit that initially I was less than grateful for the food that was put on the plate before me. There were several other experiences including cold showers, a jam packed schedule of activities, and rush hour traffic in the city that left at least some of us wondering why we came in the first place. My list of complaints was growing.
When I woke up Sunday morning and took another cold shower and choked down a horrible cup of coffee, I sat down to pray my rosary. As I continued to pray I realized that I could not hear anything other than the birds chirping outside. It was quiet. Many of the other guys were still asleep and I was able to spend some quiet time in prayer. Whether it was the Holy Spirit or my own guilt ridden conscience (definitely the first but perhaps both), I realized how ungrateful I have been for the many gifts in my life. After three weeks of trying to explain the English expression “you can’t see the forest for the trees” to my Spanish teacher, I realized that despite the number of times I had uttered this phrase I did not realize that I should be saying it to myself. I have been so focused on the things in my life that have been taken away or that I still lack (both material and non-material things) that I have been blind to the many gifts that God has given me. I am so hyper-aware of the perceived faults in others, or the manner in which I am sometimes annoyed by them, that I fail to see them as the gift that they are. At times I focus more on the ways in which my life in the seminary could be better than I do appreciating what my time in the seminary has done for my life. I find myself overlooking the many generous people (I am talking about you here! Please listen!) who make it possible for me to discern the Lord’s call. During this short time of praying the rosary and meditation my mind was flooded with all that I have to be grateful for.
For the rest of the day I tried to play a little game. Every time I saw something that I perceived to be negative or anytime I was tempted to complain, I tried to find one or two things for which I was thankful. Admittedly, I was pretty terrible at this game in the beginning. As time went by throughout the day, I found myself being increasingly grateful even for the small crosses that were placed in my path. I intentionally tried to thank God for each moment of the day. In the particularly tough moments, I asked for the grace to see the gift in the situation. I could feel the change slowly taking place. Later that night, as the neighbor’s dog and the rooster entered into a heated discussion for two hours (presumably about whether dogs or roosters are louder) from 4-6am, I found myself giving thanks that at least I had a roof over my head and a warm bed. When I woke up to running water that wasn’t going to give me frostbite, I gave thanks. When I received emails from two very dear friends that put a smile on my face, I gave thanks. When I was able to make a housemate feel appreciated on his birthday even though he is a far distance from home, I gave thanks. When a friend invited me to go across town to the Cathedral to spend time in adoration before going to Mass, I gave thanks. As I sit here writing this reflection, knowing that you are reading it, I am giving thanks for the part you have played in my life and my journey to the priesthood (Ojala!). As a result, I find that I am beginning to feel a great sense of joy in my heart. Perhaps today was just a good day. Perhaps there was no big conversion and I won’t continue to be grateful for the rest of my life. Perhaps I will return to my old ways and complain more than I give thanks. Perhaps these thoughts were a result of a high-altitude induced state of oxygen deprivation. Whatever the case, I can tell you that I am at least increasing my efforts to being a man of the ‘Eucharist’ in the true sense of the word (thanksgiving). I am trying to be more like the one leper who returned to give thanks after he was cured rather than one of the nine who simply walked away. As a result, the scales are slowly falling from my eyes and I like what I see. With the clearer vision my aim is improving and is allowing me to hit the mark more than I miss it.
Oh yeah, by the way, the forest is actually pretty beautiful once you take your eyes off the one tree and look around a little. I am sorry that I don’t have a picture of it to show you, but then again, it is probably better that we all take a look for ourselves.
Please pray for me as I am praying for all of you. “Entremos a la presencia del Señor dándole gracias.”
Pax tecum,
Tom
Monday, June 20, 2011
Un Extranjero en Una Tierra Extranjera (“A foreign man in a foreign land)
For the last two weeks I have been studying Spanish in Antigua, Guatemala. This eight week immersion program is a part of my priestly formation. The program is intended not only to teach us the Spanish language but also to allow us to learn the cultures of various countries so that we may one day better serve the people of Central Texas. I can tell you that I have had many educational experiences in the first two weeks both inside and outside of the classroom. I have been quite surprised by some of these experiences and I hope to periodically share them with you throughout the summer.
Let me begin my first reflection by saying that I am not a ‘world traveler’. Apart from two prior mission trips to Guatemala, a cruise to Mexico, and a trip to World Youth Day in Australia, I have not traveled that much outside of the United States. As a result, my exposure to the different cultures the world has to offer has been minimal. I can remember that when I arrived in Guatemala for the first time three years ago I was in such culture shock that I was not able to talk much for the first 24 hours. When it came time to leave for Guatemala two weeks ago, I felt well prepared and was sure that I would not be overcome by the change in the cultural setting. So far, the adjustment has not been that difficult. The ease of the transition probably has something to do with the fact that Antigua is packed with foreigners from all parts of the world. However, despite the ease of the transition this time, there have been some surprises.
I am currently living in a house that is operated by a lady by the name of Soñia who has two children (a son 25 yoa and a daughter 21 yoa). The house has five bedrooms that are rented out to students and travelers. Since I have been here for two weeks I have had housemates from Austin, TX (can’t escape the t-sips here either), Holland, Canada, Japan, the Philippines, and Atlanta, GA. Suffice to say there have been some interesting conversations around the dinner table. When I first arrived at the house I had some difficulty communicating with the host family and the other students. My Spanish clearly was not good enough to allow me to do more than communicate a few basic sentences and ask the essential questions (¿Dónde está el baño? for example). However, as time has gone on we have learned to communicate with one another. I think that we have all gone to great lengths to help one another communicate. At one point the conversation went from Japanese to French to English to Spanish and back again. However, based on the fact that we were all patient and working together we were all able to feel a little more at home and were able to share our lives and laughs with one another. Eventually, we began to feel like one family instead of many individuals.
The first few days of walking around the city were slightly intimidating. Antigua is a bustling town of 30,000 people but is packed with tourists and is full of activity on every street corner. Crossing the street at times can be much like playing a game of Frogger (old Atari videogame where you had to dodge cars as a frog crossed the street). Although the streets are laid out in a grid system, many of the buildings look alike and the streets are not well marked. Therefore, if you forget that the giant volcano is to the South of the city, you could easily get turned around. However, most of the people I encountered were very helpful. Many of the locals at least attempt to speak English in order to communicate with the hundreds of foreigners that flood the city each week. The signs on all the stores are in both English in Spanish. There are tourist police officers all around town in order to ensure our safety. Tourism is obviously a big industry in this town and so I was not too surprised that many of the locals would cater to their guests and try to provide them with a little taste of home. One does not have to walk far before they find a restaurant that literally provides a taste of home. In short, the town welcomes its visitors and does what it can to help them adapt to life in Antigua for the time that they are here. I don’t mean to imply that there aren’t those who are less than welcoming. In fact, some of our teachers have told us that they have been threatened for helping the foreigners since they do not receive much help when they come to our country. However, people of this opinion seem to be the minority.
Despite catering to the many different cultures that flock to Antigua for its language schools and colonial heritage, the city has not lost its own cultural identity as one of the oldest towns in Guatemala. The buildings are beautifully painted and many of the churches that have been destroyed several times over by earthquakes have been restored. Throughout all of these restorations the city has managed to maintain its colonial feel and its Spanish and Mayan heritage. There is no watering down of the culture here by the people’s attempts to welcome their guests. In short, Antigua has found a way to welcome many of its ‘extranjeros’ (foreigners) in a way that not only caters to their needs but also maintains the rich heritage of the Guatemala people.
Why am I bringing all of this up? Well, to be honest, I have been thinking a lot about how seriously I take the gospel’s mandate to welcome the stranger and attempt to build unity with peoples of every race and tongue. I have also been reading a lot about how immigrants are being treated back home. Just recently I read an article about a Texas Senator who spoke harshly to a man who was speaking in his native language (Spanish) before a Senate committee. The Senator felt that since the man lived in Texas for more than twenty years he should speak in English. The Senator felt that it was an insult to the people of Texas for this man to speak in the language in which he was most comfortable. In another story, one that is more tragic, the news coverage of the death of a police officer in Texas seemed to be more concerned with the offender’s illegal status than with the loss of a hero. This is not going to be a political commentary on the immigration. That is not my place nor do I wish to enter into the debate. I simply bring up these stories as examples of what I have perceived to be a noticeable prejudice against immigrants and other cultures ‘taking over’ our great state of Texas. I have heard it said many times (and have said it myself), ‘if you are going to live here, speak English). I have often thought that if someone chooses to live in Texas then they should adapt their ways to ours.
These may not be your views but I will admit that at one time they were mine. I will admit that I did not see the need to write signs in stores and street signs in multiple languages. I did not see the need to have government documents written in multiple languages. I did not see the need to have special restaurants, areas of town, or special clothing shops that catered to people of other cultures. After all, ‘those people’ chose to come to ‘my’ country, right?
All I want to say is that after experiencing being a foreigner in a foreign land myself, I have a greater appreciation for the efforts that are made to welcome me and make me feel a bit more at home. No matter how long I am here, I don’t think you would ever see me wearing the traditional Mayan dress or speaking a Mayan language. If I chose to move here permanently I would do my best to learn the language and live according to local custom, However, I would never want to be forced to give up my American culture (whatever that is). I would still like the opportunity to pray in my native language and to celebrate the customs of my home country. I would do my best to adapt myself to my new surroundings while holding on to my cultural identity. I would not simply become a Guatemalteco and do as they do.
But I also realize that the idea of welcoming the stranger applies beyond the realm of immigration and international travel. What about the strange student who walks the halls of our school? What about the difficult or somewhat eccentric co-worker that is often avoided or over-looked? What about the people who live next door to us? What about that family member who we haven’t talked to in years because of some previous injury or insult? What about that new seminarian or faculty member at the seminary? What about the person sitting next to us in Church or the family that is new to our parish? What about the priest(s) or minister(s) who is (are) new to our Church? What about people of other faiths that we encounter in our daily lives? How far am I willing to go out of my way to welcome these people? Am I able to welcome them in a way that allows them to maintain some of their own identity without forcing them to conform to my ways in order to be accepted? How seriously do I take Jesus’ words ‘that they may all be one?’ How hard do I work to build community and welcome the stranger around me? Admittedly, I have not done a great job of it. After the experiences of this summer, I can tell you that I will renew my efforts. Will you join me?
Pax tecum,
Tom
PS. The experience of this summer is presented merely as a springboard to further reflection regarding how well I welcome a stranger in my own ‘land’. I am not attempting to make any political statements regarding immigration reform. ‘Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and render unto God what is God’s.’ I am simply reflecting on how I am living the teachings of the gospel in my own life and focusing on ways in which I can improve my efforts. Please don’t misread this post and think that I am attacking any political system or group of people. If I am pointing the finger at anyone, I only mean to point it at myself.
Let me begin my first reflection by saying that I am not a ‘world traveler’. Apart from two prior mission trips to Guatemala, a cruise to Mexico, and a trip to World Youth Day in Australia, I have not traveled that much outside of the United States. As a result, my exposure to the different cultures the world has to offer has been minimal. I can remember that when I arrived in Guatemala for the first time three years ago I was in such culture shock that I was not able to talk much for the first 24 hours. When it came time to leave for Guatemala two weeks ago, I felt well prepared and was sure that I would not be overcome by the change in the cultural setting. So far, the adjustment has not been that difficult. The ease of the transition probably has something to do with the fact that Antigua is packed with foreigners from all parts of the world. However, despite the ease of the transition this time, there have been some surprises.
I am currently living in a house that is operated by a lady by the name of Soñia who has two children (a son 25 yoa and a daughter 21 yoa). The house has five bedrooms that are rented out to students and travelers. Since I have been here for two weeks I have had housemates from Austin, TX (can’t escape the t-sips here either), Holland, Canada, Japan, the Philippines, and Atlanta, GA. Suffice to say there have been some interesting conversations around the dinner table. When I first arrived at the house I had some difficulty communicating with the host family and the other students. My Spanish clearly was not good enough to allow me to do more than communicate a few basic sentences and ask the essential questions (¿Dónde está el baño? for example). However, as time has gone on we have learned to communicate with one another. I think that we have all gone to great lengths to help one another communicate. At one point the conversation went from Japanese to French to English to Spanish and back again. However, based on the fact that we were all patient and working together we were all able to feel a little more at home and were able to share our lives and laughs with one another. Eventually, we began to feel like one family instead of many individuals.
The first few days of walking around the city were slightly intimidating. Antigua is a bustling town of 30,000 people but is packed with tourists and is full of activity on every street corner. Crossing the street at times can be much like playing a game of Frogger (old Atari videogame where you had to dodge cars as a frog crossed the street). Although the streets are laid out in a grid system, many of the buildings look alike and the streets are not well marked. Therefore, if you forget that the giant volcano is to the South of the city, you could easily get turned around. However, most of the people I encountered were very helpful. Many of the locals at least attempt to speak English in order to communicate with the hundreds of foreigners that flood the city each week. The signs on all the stores are in both English in Spanish. There are tourist police officers all around town in order to ensure our safety. Tourism is obviously a big industry in this town and so I was not too surprised that many of the locals would cater to their guests and try to provide them with a little taste of home. One does not have to walk far before they find a restaurant that literally provides a taste of home. In short, the town welcomes its visitors and does what it can to help them adapt to life in Antigua for the time that they are here. I don’t mean to imply that there aren’t those who are less than welcoming. In fact, some of our teachers have told us that they have been threatened for helping the foreigners since they do not receive much help when they come to our country. However, people of this opinion seem to be the minority.
Despite catering to the many different cultures that flock to Antigua for its language schools and colonial heritage, the city has not lost its own cultural identity as one of the oldest towns in Guatemala. The buildings are beautifully painted and many of the churches that have been destroyed several times over by earthquakes have been restored. Throughout all of these restorations the city has managed to maintain its colonial feel and its Spanish and Mayan heritage. There is no watering down of the culture here by the people’s attempts to welcome their guests. In short, Antigua has found a way to welcome many of its ‘extranjeros’ (foreigners) in a way that not only caters to their needs but also maintains the rich heritage of the Guatemala people.
Why am I bringing all of this up? Well, to be honest, I have been thinking a lot about how seriously I take the gospel’s mandate to welcome the stranger and attempt to build unity with peoples of every race and tongue. I have also been reading a lot about how immigrants are being treated back home. Just recently I read an article about a Texas Senator who spoke harshly to a man who was speaking in his native language (Spanish) before a Senate committee. The Senator felt that since the man lived in Texas for more than twenty years he should speak in English. The Senator felt that it was an insult to the people of Texas for this man to speak in the language in which he was most comfortable. In another story, one that is more tragic, the news coverage of the death of a police officer in Texas seemed to be more concerned with the offender’s illegal status than with the loss of a hero. This is not going to be a political commentary on the immigration. That is not my place nor do I wish to enter into the debate. I simply bring up these stories as examples of what I have perceived to be a noticeable prejudice against immigrants and other cultures ‘taking over’ our great state of Texas. I have heard it said many times (and have said it myself), ‘if you are going to live here, speak English). I have often thought that if someone chooses to live in Texas then they should adapt their ways to ours.
These may not be your views but I will admit that at one time they were mine. I will admit that I did not see the need to write signs in stores and street signs in multiple languages. I did not see the need to have government documents written in multiple languages. I did not see the need to have special restaurants, areas of town, or special clothing shops that catered to people of other cultures. After all, ‘those people’ chose to come to ‘my’ country, right?
All I want to say is that after experiencing being a foreigner in a foreign land myself, I have a greater appreciation for the efforts that are made to welcome me and make me feel a bit more at home. No matter how long I am here, I don’t think you would ever see me wearing the traditional Mayan dress or speaking a Mayan language. If I chose to move here permanently I would do my best to learn the language and live according to local custom, However, I would never want to be forced to give up my American culture (whatever that is). I would still like the opportunity to pray in my native language and to celebrate the customs of my home country. I would do my best to adapt myself to my new surroundings while holding on to my cultural identity. I would not simply become a Guatemalteco and do as they do.
But I also realize that the idea of welcoming the stranger applies beyond the realm of immigration and international travel. What about the strange student who walks the halls of our school? What about the difficult or somewhat eccentric co-worker that is often avoided or over-looked? What about the people who live next door to us? What about that family member who we haven’t talked to in years because of some previous injury or insult? What about that new seminarian or faculty member at the seminary? What about the person sitting next to us in Church or the family that is new to our parish? What about the priest(s) or minister(s) who is (are) new to our Church? What about people of other faiths that we encounter in our daily lives? How far am I willing to go out of my way to welcome these people? Am I able to welcome them in a way that allows them to maintain some of their own identity without forcing them to conform to my ways in order to be accepted? How seriously do I take Jesus’ words ‘that they may all be one?’ How hard do I work to build community and welcome the stranger around me? Admittedly, I have not done a great job of it. After the experiences of this summer, I can tell you that I will renew my efforts. Will you join me?
Pax tecum,
Tom
PS. The experience of this summer is presented merely as a springboard to further reflection regarding how well I welcome a stranger in my own ‘land’. I am not attempting to make any political statements regarding immigration reform. ‘Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and render unto God what is God’s.’ I am simply reflecting on how I am living the teachings of the gospel in my own life and focusing on ways in which I can improve my efforts. Please don’t misread this post and think that I am attacking any political system or group of people. If I am pointing the finger at anyone, I only mean to point it at myself.
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