You've Gotta Talk About It!

"Today we need a Church capable of walking at people's side, of doing more than simply listening to them..." - Pope Francis 

Throughout the ages people have asked questions of great importance to their lives, such as: is there a God? Who is He and what is He like? What reasons are there for believing in Him? When you do come to believe in Him, where do you go from there?  Is religion really necessary? Many people are still asking these questions and just because you or I may have already sufficiently answered these questions for ourselves does not mean that we can't or that we shouldn't discuss these questions with those who have not answered them.  In fact, it seems vital that this discussion should happen, because often people are drawn to faith in Christ through the witness of faithful and authentic Christians. 

Discussion about the divine, faith, and religion can be called "dialogue." A dialogue is a conversation between two or more people. That means listening to what another person says, but it also means responding. As Christians, we are called to dialogue with other people. This is the heart of the New Evangelization!  This is what it means to preach the Gospel. It means we cannot stand on a soap box on the street corner like the Pharisees and speak just for the sake of hearing ourselves talk without any real understanding of who we are talking to. No, we must engage people in the grocery store, at the gas station, at the bar, and on the internet.  We must listen to their stories, but we must, as Pope Francis says, do more than simply listen. As Christians we must reply in charity to the questions and lives of the persons we encounter every day. We must not be afraid to engage in casual conversation about the topic of faith. The faith of others may be sparked by this and our own faith can only be sharpened and strengthened by the challenges presented to it by the culture.

In order to be able to enter into conversation with other people, we have to meet them where they are at. We need to be able to enter into the culture and encounter people right where they are and still remain faithful in our witness to Christ. One way in which we can begin to meet people where they are at is through the social media. It is something that a vast number of people use everyday. Blogging, as Mark Shea points out in the chapter on blogging in The Church and New Media, has a great potential to begin dialogue because of its conversational tone and interactive possibilities. Readers can engage and respond to the material they are reading and authors can continue the discussion almost immediately. (It is a far cry from when you wrote a letter to the newspaper and waited weeks for a response...that is, if you ever got a response.)  There are some great Catholic bloggers out there who do just this: write for the purpose of engaging people in conversation about topics of faith. Check out Marc Barnes, for example. 

However potent social media may be, I have found in my own short life that face to face interactions with other human persons are the most fruitful form of dialogue. No matter what, there is a disconnect that happens when a social medium is used to communicate. Much is lost without the tone of voice and the facial and body expressions that are part of a face to face interaction between persons. So while I firmly believe that social media can be used effectively in the New Evangelization and that it should be used, I also believe that it is only a springboard. Nothing can beat a conversation with that person on the airplane or in the driver's license bureau. Do not be afraid! Go out into the streets and proclaim the love of Christ present in your heart! But don't forget to listen. This is not a soap box or a "holier than thou" competition...it is an opportunity to walk together with other persons up the mountain of faith.

Are You Happy?

This past week, a friend of mine told me a story of an interesting conversation that he had recently.  He was standing in line at the credit union when the old man in front of him turned around and asked, “Are you happy?”  My friend replied that yes, he was happy.  The man said, “Well good, because the way I see it, everybody’s gotta be happy.”

My friend told me this story sometime around 12:30am as we were standing in the kitchen eating a late night snack.  And then he asked me, “Are you happy?”  The question required me to look deep into my heart.  Was the physically, mentally, and emotionally challenging day really worth it?  Was I truly happy after all the stress and craziness of overseeing a Mass for 600 people and making sure that the pool opened up in time for the families to go swimming? 

My answer was (and is) “Yes.”

Our joy comes from the Lord, because when we give all we have to Him, He gives so many blessings back to us.  He makes all the sacrifices worth it.  And so I can say that yes, I am truly happy. 

“The joy of the Lord is our strength…”

Still Growing...

Alright.  Now that the coolest, craziest, most blessed four months of my life (at least thus far) have drawn to an end, I thought I would get back to blogging before my summer job begins.  But be warned, the stories about my semester abroad have only just started.  

This past weekend I was blessed to go back to main campus and to see some of my household sister graduate from college.  (That's crazy!  They're old!  Glad that's not me!)  While I was there, an interesting thing happened: two different friends told me I looked older.  What?  It blew my mind because somehow, just by looking at me, they could see that I had grown while I was away in Europe.  I didn't look any different than when I left them in December, but they could tell that something was different.  And I didn't even have to tell them.

When I was thinking about this later, I realized that we talked about this very phenomenon in my Philosophy of the Human Person class last semester.  A person is made of a physical part (the body) and a spiritual part (the soul), and the only way that we are able to see the spiritual part of a person is through their body.  The soul is revealed in the body.  This weekend proved this truth to me.  My friends, just by looking at me, were able to tell that my soul had grown.  I know this idea might sound weird, but IT'S TRUE.

So there.

Rome Part 2: The Vicar of Christ

It is 8am and I settle down in my chair in St. Peter’s square to wait for the general audience to start.  Part of me can’t believe I am here.  I have seen so many pictures and postcards of this place that it seems like I am just staring at another picture.  But the rest of me feels entirely at home, as if I have lived in this place for my whole life.  

As I sit and wait and chat with my friends, more and more people pass through security and enter the square for the audience.  There are now thousands of people here, from many different places.  We are all here for the same reason – to say goodbye to our papa.  He has been such a gentle shepherd and a humble priest that our hearts are overwhelmed with love for him. 

A glimpse of the huge crowds that gathered in St. Peter's square on Feb. 28th.

 

The thought that we are all united strikes me.  Being surrounded by the many people from different countries, young and old, rich and poor, lay people and consecrated people, makes me realize again that the Church is indeed universal.  She welcomes all in her loving arms, leading them to Christ, just as the “arms” of St. Peter’s square welcome in all the pilgrims who have come to greet the Holy Father.  

One of my friends begins to talk to the people sitting in front of her.  They are Italian.  We chat with them for a little while.  Then someone suggests praying a rosary, so we invite the three Italians to join us.  This too shows me the universality of the Church.  We say the prayers in English while they say them in Italian.  One decade is lead in English and the next in Italian.  It is wonderful to be praying to the Mother of the Church in the place that is identified as the heart of the Church. 

In the short time that we interact with the Italians, we have become friends with them.  It is surprising, as we have no understanding of Italian and they know only a little bit of English.  Still, we understand each other.  They take a picture with us. 

The morning progresses, but we still have about an hour to go before the audience with the Holy Father begins.  The student life director brings us a small banner that has the name of our university printed on it.  We hang it up on the barricade.  A woman with two small boys who is standing at the barricade opposite to us sees the banner and yells over to us.  “I’m a Franciscan Alum!”  She is so happy to see us and asks us to contact her husband, who works for a Catholic news agency in Rome.  “They want to interview you.”  I take down the contact information to pass along to the student life director later.

At 10:30am one of the cardinals comes out onto the stage that is set up on the steps of St. Peter’s.  One by one he reads the Holy Father’s greeting to all the different language groups that are present there in the square.  He addresses the people in seven (or maybe more) languages.  I recognize: Italian, French, German, English, Spanish, and Polish.  When the English speaking groups are announced, we cheer loudly when we hear the name of our University.  It sounded funny, because the majority of our group was in the front part of seating and only a few of us were in the back. 

The excitement of the people in the square is building.  Any minute our Holy Father will appear.  The greetings finish and the cardinal takes a seat.  A few minutes later we see the pope-mobile emerge from the arch on the left side of the square.  The crowd erupts into cheers.  The joy and love that the people have for Benedict XVI is overwhelming.  I am caught up in it and blown away by it all at the same time.  I wonder what he feels like.  

Here he comes! 

We wait in suspense by the barricade, not sure if he will even drive past us.  The pope-mobile turns and goes around the opposite side of the square.  I try not to get my hopes up, because I don’t want to be disappointed.  Then he turns down to go across the back between the seats and the people standing.  We get excited.  He is coming towards us!  He is going to drive by us!  A few minutes later he turns down the little street and drives right past us.  I am right on the barricade, only six or seven feet away from him.  We are shouting “Papa! Papa!” over and over again.  I feel tears coming to my eyes.  As he drives past it feels as if the world is in slow motion.  Love for the Holy Father wells up in my heart.  And then, he stops.  Right in front of us.  For one or two minutes.  He kisses the baby of the woman who told us she was a Franciscan alum.  We are still shouting “Papa!”  Someone is pressing on my head in an effort to see him.  I don’t know what to think.  I feel so overwhelmed.  The moment passes, the babies are handed back to their mothers, and the Papa moves on to greet and bless the rest of the people in the square. 

He was right in front of us!  What a blessing!

 

When he has returned to the front of the square, he goes up onto the stage and addresses the people in all their different languages.  It is marvelous.  The love of the people surges up again every time he addresses a new group.  He speaks again about how we must step out in faith and trust more deeply in the Lord’s will for our lives.  When he is finished, we sing the “Our Father” in Latin.  Then we receive the blessing of Christ Himself through the hand of His vicar on earth.  I am overwhelmed by the beauty and the great grace of being in St. Peter’s Square for the last general audience of the pope.  He is such a loving and gentle Papa.

 

Habemus papam!

Last night I was planning to come to the computer lab after our Wednesday night Women's Scripture Group and post the next segment of my series of posts about Rome.  And then it happened.  A few minutes after 7pm, when we were all socializing at the TOR sisters' house, Meredith ran in and shouted "Habemus papam!"  You can imagine what sound came next - a LOT of  VERY LOUD screaming.  Even I was screaming...and I am not typically a screamer. 

When we heard the news my heart was filled with joy!  A friend and I snuck upstairs to the sisters' chapel while the sisters hooked up their computer to the EWTN live streaming of Vatican Square.  I begged the Lord to pour His grace down upon our new Holy Father.  When I went back downstairs there were about fifteen women hovering around the computer screen, which was perched on a coffee table in the middle of the sisters' living room.  We sang a song of thanksgiving together and then spent the next fourty-five minutes or so in an agony of suspense.  It was so exciting!!!

When we saw the curtains in the balcony window move we screamed.  And then shhhhshed each other.  I'm sure that most (if not all) of you who are reading this have seen the footage and know what happened next.  The cardinal came onto the balcony and announced that we have a pope!  It was a thrilling moment (not quite as thrilling as it would have been if I had been in Vatican City...but thrilling nonetheless).  When he said the name of the new pope, none of us knew who he was, but as soon as we saw him, we fell in love.  :)

What a humble man.  He asked the Church to pray for the Lord to bless him before he gave us his first blessing as our pope.  The silence in that moment was so rich and full of joy.  I knew that I was united with people all over the world in calling down the Holy Spirit upon our new pope in that moment.  WOW.   

Then we received our second papal blessing in a month! 

After the excitement of seeing Pope Francis step out onto the balcony was over, many of the students here (including myself) flocked to the chapel.  An impromptu praise and worship session began, followed by a rosary for Pope Francis.  My heart was full of joy, of thanksgiving, but my head was spinning.

All I have to say is that God really loves my roommate.  It was her birthday yesterday, and do you know what she asked for? 

A pope. 

And she got one.

Rome Part 1: All Roads Lead to Rome

It is 3:10pm on Tuesday, February 26.  I finish shoving the last few items into my backpack and purse: my hairbrush, camera, snacks for the road, homework that I am not really planning on doing but which I am bringing along “just in case.”  I pull on my boots and zip up my coat.  My roommate has already gone downstairs to get on the bus.  I see her Roma metro ticket lying on top of her travel mug on her desk.  I grab it and slide it into my back pocket – it would be disastrous if she didn’t have that ticket during this week long “super trip.”

           

Ready to get on the road, I head downstairs and outside to the buses with my luggage, a medium sized hiking backpack, a satchel I use to carry books and my laptop around the Kartause, and my purse.  I have probably over-packed, but it is too late now.  Besides, I am going to be gone for fourteen days, not just two or three.

It is nearly 3:30pm.  I show my passport to the RA who is checking us in, throw my luggage into the storage place below the bus, and climb on board.  As my classmates put their bags and coats in the overhead storage bin and begin to settle into their seats, the excitement is growing. 

We are going to see the Pope.  We are going to be there for his last general audience with the people of God before he steps down from the Seat of Peter and transitions to a hidden life of prayer.  We can’t believe this is happening.  None of us planned to be in Europe during this time of transition in the Church.  We are in awe of this great blessing.  It is the opportunity of a lifetime, made possible by the director of the Austrian program, the director of student life, and our professors.  Only a week and a half ago they had completely revamped the semester schedule so that this opportunity, this blessing, could become a reality for us.

And so now I find myself going to Rome with my classmates, three days before our planned pilgrimage to Rome, to see the Holy Father and then to wish him farewell the next day.  The buses begin to pull away and we say “auf wiedersehen ” to the Kartause and Gaming.  We will return only after a very long and exhausting, but hopefully fruitful, Roman holiday.  It is now around 3:45pm.

The bus turns right out of the Kartause parking lot (a first) and heads up into the mountains.  It is snowing lightly, but the flakes are very thick and large.  The road winds and becomes steep as we venture further into the mountains.  The bus is filled with music and the chatter and laughter of about fifty people.  We have just finished midterms and we are going to see the Pope – if that isn’t a cause for joy, what is?  Still, I am slightly overwhelmed by the noise.  I have been awake since 6:30am and I am getting tired.

Once we make it to the other side of the mountains, our drive is relatively straight and flat.  The bus drives through the night.  Every three or four hours it stops and we all pile out to use the bathroom, breath some fresh air, and stretch our cramped legs.  (We are used to this kind of travel now, after going to Poland and back two weekends ago).  The last of these stops is at 3:35am on Wednesday, February 27.  I am sleepy, but I get off the bus anyways.  This is our last stop before we reach Rome.  Before getting back on the bus again I grab breakfast – an orange, a banana, a granola bar, and a large bottle of water.  There is no way I am eating this now.  I get back on the bus and quickly fall back asleep. 

“Hey guys, it’s time to wake up.”  The RD’s voice comes over the bus’ speaker system.  “We are only a few minutes away from the place where the buses are dropping us off.”  I rub my eyes and stretch.  Then I shove my breakfast into my purse.  I am ready.  It is around 6am.

The bus pulls into a parking lot and we all pile out.  We stand in the parking lot chatting, then little groups of people begin to make their way to Vatican City.  I begin to walk with a group of friends.  Suddenly, we round a corner and I can see the dome of St. Peter’s before me, all lit up, with the pre-dawn sky painted navy blue behind it.  The sight makes me so joyful!  I laugh in disbelief.  The excitement amongst my classmates begins to build.  Soon we are running down the streets of Rome towards the Vatican.  We can’t wait to get there!  We can’t wait to see our Holy Father.

When we reach the gates of the city there is already a mass of people there.  Security doesn’t open until 7 or 7:30am, so we pack into the crowd and wait.  A group of American seminarians is next to me.  They form a circle and begin to pray morning prayer.  When they are finished, a friend and I begin to chat with one of them.  He tells us to climb to the top of the Cupola, to tour the necropolis underneath St. Peter’s, and how to get to a good bakery. 

 Waiting to enter St. Peter's square early in the morning.

The security guards open the gates and begin to let people through.  People are packed on top of each other.  They are pushing from all sides, in all directions.  I have no choice but to move with the crowd, otherwise I could be trampled underfoot. 

When I finally make it through the security line, about 20 of my classmates and I discover that the front section of seating where the rest of the school is sitting has just been closed, so we find some seats in the back, right next to the barricade.  At first we are disappointed and try to get through to the front with everyone else.  But then we begin to hope that the Pope might drive right past us.  This is exciting, but I don’t want to be disappointed, so I try not to get my hopes up.

It is only about 8am and the audience doesn’t start until 10:30am.  So I settle down in my chair to wait.  And as I gaze on the beauty of St. Peter’s and on the thousands of people who have come to say goodbye to Papa Ben, I am struck by how universal – how catholic – our Church truly is…

(To be continued…)

 

Waiting for the Holy Father's audience to begin.

Climb EVERY Mountain!

The iron cross at the top of the Kirchenstein.

Phew...it's been a while, hasn't it?  It has turned out to be harder than I thought to set aside time every week to write even a short blog post.  Not that there is a lack of anything to write about here.  It is simply that there are so many things to do!  (And also that when I get back from traveling on the weekends all I want to do is sleep).  

So thank you for patiently waiting for this post.  I hope you enjoy it.  This event originally happened about 2 or 3 weeks ago....

Well folks, this past Sunday I climbed my first mountain.  It was glorious!  I don’t think I can accurately describe the beauty or the thrill of climbing a mountain.  And pictures definitely don’t do it justice either.  But here goes nothing.

My friend and I left the Kartause around 1pm and walked across town to where the path starts.  It begins as a sidewalk between two houses and then there is a staircase leading up to the beginning of the trail.  This part of the hike was really easy.  The trail goes very slowly upwards and there is a lot of zigzagging back and forth across the mountain.  Seriously, if you just went straight up it would be a lot faster (but probably more difficult).  We took our time walking up, stopping to look at the view a few times…and we thought it was beautiful!  But we didn’t know that there was more breathtaking beauty to come. 

After about a half an hour we reached a “peak” called the Kirchenstein.  It is a huge rock with an iron cross on top.  You can look out and see all of the town and the valley spread out before you.  That was the breathtaking view.  We were very blessed because it was a beautiful and clear day with a little bit of sunshine!  (The sun doesn’t shine as much here as it does at home, probably because it is snowing most of the time).   My friend and I enjoyed the beauty of the view and soaked up the sunshine.  But we hadn’t reached our goal (the book), so we kept moving – onwards and upwards.

A view of Gaming from the mountain.  

Now the going got tough.  We started going more steeply uphill and in a few places we were crawling on our hands and knees.  There were spots along the trail where there were almost no trees and we could see everything on both sides of the mountain, including more beautiful mountains in the distance.  After about another thirty-minute hike we finally reached the book!  There is a metal box hanging on a tree, which holds the book.  After signing it (and looking through it to find the names of students who signed it before us) I said a little prayer at the shrine there.  Then my friend and I looked for our household name, which was carved in one of the trees in the little grove there.  We finally found it and took a picture. 

A view from the ridge of the mountain, before we actually reached the book.

After this we began our long descent to the bottom of the mountain.  But it actually didn’t take that long because… after we were about halfway down we decided to just slide down the mountain on our bottoms!  It was fun because the snow was so deep! 

At the end of the day we were exhausted, but content. 

Me with the iron cross.  Isn't the sunlight over the mountains beautiful?