So begins Lent 2014. This year I'm giving up junk food aka actually sticking to my weight watchers program and giving up the idea of drinking just for the hell of it which is really drinking to forget how crappy life can be at times. As usual I will add in Liturgy of the Hours and reading books. This year's books are Lenten Reflections from A Father Who Keeps His Promise by Scott Hahn and Lent With Pope Benedict VI: meditations for every day. This also means I might attempt to read the book that Scott Hahn's reflections are taken from but I might read any one of the books I have sitting in my room. I know it's a lot to add in but it's stuff I should be doing anyway. Of course there will be my Friday daily Mass and stations of the cross to follow that Mass. Our parish is offering Theology Tuesdays so I'll go to those and also attempt to to to Mass and the Lenten presentations at St. Paul's. Most of this is stuff I would and should be doing anyway so it's a lot of getting back to where I was. Mainly this Lent I want the dark cloud that seems to have a hold on my soul to go away but I know that's easier said than done. I also know that I have opened myself up to fail and I am fine with that as I know that Jesus fell while carrying the Cross but He got up and kept going so that's what I will do should I not be perfect at what I plan in doing.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Part 4 of the Faith Journey
During my last resident semester, which was my second to last semester at SHU I decided I needed a retreat away from my friends, like Youth 2000. I found myself back in Kearny, this time on the Living the Lord's Prayer Retreat. It was just what I needed, the ‘in between retreat’, moving away from the 'whoo-hoo Jesus loves me" retreats and heading towards a silent retreat. This retreat rocked, and was just what I needed at the time, I was able to reconnect with old friends and meet some new ones too. LTLP as it became know in the inner circle would become a major part of my life, as I was asked to be on team. Being on team began during my last semester at SHU. Our first meeting was on September 12, 2001, needless to say the day before in etched in my memory. Where was I on September 11th…
I was finishing up my last semester at SHU, and like a good college student I managed to get most of my classes in the afternoon or evening, so I was in bed when my mom came in and told me that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I thought what type of moron hits a building, thinking in my head it was a student pilot in a small plane. I got up and for some reason decided my car needed to be washed so that’s that I went and did I washed my car which didn’t take too long. I had 95.5 WPLJ on the radio, so ABC was updating me on what was happening. I remember how somber Scott and Todd were compared to their usual antics and my neighbor coming out saying a second plane had hit the towers. At this point, I thought what the hell! As I was cleaning the inside of the car I heard that one of the Towers had fallen, at point I quickly finished what I was doing and went inside to watch the TV. The memories of Jan. 19 just 1 year and 9 months before hand came rushing back. I was home away from my friends, while they were at Seton Hall, where I wanted to me. Much like Jan. 19 I was then glued to the TV to see what was happening.
September 11th for my family has two meanings, two memories. See 9-1-1 is my brother’s wedding anniversary; he being the smart aleck that he is picked 9-1-1 so everyone would remember it, now it carries another meaning. At the time the majority of the extended family lived in NY, the Bronx and Queens, since most of them lived in NY most of them worked in NY, including my father and brother; Dad in the Bronx and Peter in Manhattan, thankfully nowhere near the Towers. September 11th was a little closer to home than it needed to be, add in cops in the family and its closer and it got even closer as the days went on. Calls were made to see how the family was, they all came back clear everyone was safe. It would just take my dad 4 hours to get home instead of the usual 45mins and I don’t remember Peter’s trip I don’t, but I’m sure it took him awhile to get home. Bottom line is they got home safely.
The memories of the days following are jumbled; we went to St. Anthony’s that night for a prayer service. We, St. Anthony’s only lost one person, which surprised me as I assumed that more people from town would have worked in the City. I don’t know if it was at some point that day or the days that followed but we found out that one of my dad’s friends had lost his son. Dennis was a fire fighter and his funeral, well wake is one I will never forget. We also found out that one of our neighbors, John, from the Bronx had worked for Cantor Fitzgerald. John’s memorial Mass, seeing as there would be no body happened first. Other than the big picture of John and his newborn son in the front Mass went on as normal, with the addition of a eulogy or two. John’s Mass was a reunion of people my brother had gone to school with and people we knew from Church. The Mass was followed by a gathering in the downstairs gym. It reminded me of a Christmas Eve Mass instead of a Memorial Mass. At the gathering I heard a lot of, Little Mary no way, that’s not you. My response, yes it is, I’m even 21 now. The laughs would follow, so even though it was a sad occasion, John had managed to get people together that hadn’t seen each other in years.
Now back to the retreat and being on team. Driving to the first retreat team meeting on 280 East was when it hit me that the skyline that I was so familiar with and almost took for granted was changed forever; it was empty, it was broken, and would never be the same. The following weekend the retreat team went to a service at Liberty State Park. To look across the river and see the empty spot, just took my breath away, it was still smoldering in parts. It was surreal to think of what had happened and little did we know how much it would affect our lives. Evil will not leave, the Evil one is not happy unless we’re not happy, so he makes things happen and God allows it because He gave us free will, but that doesn’t mean God sits back and just lets it happen, while thousands died and were injured that day, many were also spared and saved by being late to work or for a plane or by God’s grace of not being near the buildings. Needless to say with the proximity of the team meetings and our locations to NYC and September 11th it became the topic of choice for a few talks. During these meetings I would develop a special relationship with one of my fellow team members, Brian, of whom I have given the living term, jackass, or the ass. I know a few guys named Brian so I have to distinguish, especially since two of them are priests. So, Jackass Brian brings my journey to the spot it is today, once of confusion, questions, and doubting.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Faith Journey Part 3
Another event that would shape my life was a Youth 2000 retreat in Kearny, NJ. I don't like the Kearny, ok I hate the Kearny retreat center, but it serves its purpose. I like retreat centers in the middle of nowhere, where it's just you and God. I went because Campus min was sponsoring those that wanted to go and I decided to give it a try. It was a strange experience for me, as I knew no one on the retreat. Youth 2000 is a wickedly awesome retreat run by the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal. I have known the order since I was a kid in grammar school, so I trusted what they did. Youth 2000 is a retreat that covers a large age group, high school- young adult, and the whole focus of the weekend is on the Blessed Sacrament. It would be on this retreat where it would just hit me that, it’s Jesus; it really is God in that piece of bread. Don't ask me how it happened, it just happened, it just dawned on me after 18 years, that it IS JESUS in the Eucharist. Yep, God smacked me upside the head with that one, as I refer to it, “my smack from God.” From here I would begin to realize how important those Monday afternoon trips to St. Helena’s with my mother were, and from here would stem my love for Eucharist Adoration. I went to Youth 2000 because I wanted answers about Gary’s death, why he had to go so young, why would God do that, how could God do that. Those questions were not answered; what I got was much more that what I could have ever asked for. From this retreat, from the experience of having a priest walk through the gym with the Monstrance I felt God's love and came to know Him better. Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament became something I looked forward to. I often sit for hours in SHU's chapel because I wanted to, and sometimes because I had to.
My years at Seton continued in a pattern, fall semester meant back to RCIA, retreats, SHUFL, Student Ambassadors, CELEBRATE SCC, EMing, and other campus ministry and school events, Christmas break for which I'd be home and couldn't wait to get back to SHU. It's a far cry from my first semester, when I wanted to run home to St. Anthony's; now I wanted to be away from St. A's. St. Anthony’s just didn’t feel like home anymore, SHU did. Christmas break would end and I'd be back ‘home’ at SHU, spring semester would take place with my usual activities continuing from the fall semester. I switched majors from nursing to religious studies at the beginning of my sophomore year. This was one of those things that stemmed from Youth 2000 and Steubenville; I felt a calling to religious studies and went with it.
Life at SHU would continue in this normal pattern until one eventful morning in January 2000. I was sleeping as most college students do at 5am, we were back on campus a few days. The phone rang and my roommate and I thought who the hell calls us at 5am, what is wrong with them. It was my roommate's mom, asking if we were ok. We said were fine, but the words there was as fire on campus would stay with us. We looked out of our window and saw fire trucks and other emergency vehicles over by Boland Hall, assumed everything was under control and went back to sleep. A few hours later, the phone rings again, this time it was a friend, who asked, “what's going on up there, I hear 3 people are dead.” Those words woke us up and we turned on the TV, we usually turned on Fox 5’s morning show so that’s what we watched. I still remember how somber and sincere Jim Ryan was as he told the story. Seton Hall was all over the news. We got news throughout the day, the first bit being that the fire was on the 3rd floor, which happened to be the floor we lived on as freshman. My exact thought was "Oh God no; no not again; I can't do this, that's where Todd lives." (Todd is Gary's brother). It was morning, and we were hungry so we went to get some food. Calls were made to friends on campus to make sure everyone one was ok, and to see who wanted to go to breakfast. The University understandably shut down for the day, and looking back on it, we were like a herd of freaking cattle moving back and forth between the Main Lounge, the Chapel and the cafe. The Main Lounge was where updates were given; the Chapel was for mass, and the café for food and just hanging out with friends.
When we came down for breakfast I saw as Todd and was happy that I had found him and knew he was ok, and thought. Before I could even think, “thank God,” I heard "Pete can't find his little brother". I knew deep down at the very moment that, Pete's brother was gone, but I held out every last bit of hope that he was still alive. The day continued with us going to the Main Lounge for updates, the Chapel for Mass, back to the Main Lounge, to the cafe for food. Throughout the day we would think of and find more people who lived in Boland, all expect for Pete's brother. Resident students were told to go home, as the campus would be shut down for the next few days. So we each found a way to go home, my friend Kelly lived in Albany, NY, and since she would be driving past my neighborhood, she drove me home. Kelly and I stopped by our friend Bridget’s house, mainly because Bridget as a commuter was away from all of us during the day. Kelly and I were headed home and we had SOU, Seton Hall’s crappy radio station because we were guaranteed updates. Around 7 they released the names of the kids who had died. We heard John Gu… and immediately turned around and found Bridget at her sister's house. We went back to Bridget’s house cried; found out the funeral arrangements and eventually we all went home.
The days that followed were sad ones, January 19th would the 2nd day in January that I would not like. John's funeral and Mass flashed me back to Gary's wake. This was not something I wanted to go through again, I didn't want to have to bury another person my age, but alas I had to. Here I got a part of my answer of how can this help you. Fr. Bill two years before had said, ask how, what can come from this. So I became the ‘you can get through it” person. I knew it hurt, that the pain will not leave, but it gets slightly easier to bear. Both days in January just send me into a dark place, of which I need to go every so often. Both events would change my life, would change my faith. And just because they are sad, doesn't mean that good weren't happening at the same time, these are just the events that stick out the most. One of the highlights for me would be the Easter Sacraments that took place each year after Easter. I would watch my candidates become fully Catholic, the whole RCIA process still brings tears to my eyes, happy tears, as others realize that they want to be Catholic and it just does my heart well to see so many people annoying the Evil One.
Life would continue in the normal college student fashion. Classes were going well; I had lots of friends and was having fun at college. Soon that fun could come to an end, as the dreaded graduation day approached. I wish to not remember my graduations from SHU, yes I did say graduations. Having known people graduating in the classes before me and participating in their “Mass of Academic Investiture”, I knew what to expect, but what would happen, I never expected. I never thought changing majors would come back to well, bite me in the ass. Long story short, as my friends received notices about caps and gowns I wonder why I wasn’t getting anything. Turns out I had 12 credits or 4 classes left before I could graduate. I had a full semesters worth of classes left, somehow this slipped past me and my advisor, though it slipping past my advisor is not too surprising. I was pissed, I had put in my 4 years, I had also failed a class or two, it’s what helped me change my major, as the science classes just weren’t holding my attention, but my religion classes were. So here I was at my graduation Mass, watching my friends graduate, without me. I walked in to serve as an Extraordinary Minister of the Eucharist and found Fr. Bill who said to me, “smile Red, you not smiling is unnerving, I don’t like it.” If Fr. Bill only knew how much that comment meant to me at the time and how much my friends and I use it.
I went back to SHU for my last semester which was honestly just me showing up for class and coming back home. I was no longer part of the RCIA program as I was basically told “it’s time to give others a chance.” What really happened was I said I wouldn’t stand up for my last candidate because I didn’t think she was ready to enter the church, and because I had the audacity to stand up for something I was asked to step down. Fr. Bill had been asked to return to parish life and without him Campus ministry and I weren’t getting along. So I was at St. Anthony’s for Mass, which was not what I wanted. I didn’t feel as if I fit in there. This would be the “what am I doing, what am I supposed to do” section of my faith journey.
I think I am going to stop at this point simply because the next section covers Sept. 11th and the events that were happening around it. As someone who spent her grammar school years in the Bronx, has family in the Bronx, has NYPD in the family, and whose father and brother both worked in New York at the time, September 11th was a bit closer to home than expected. For some reason I can't shorten the Sept. 11th story, I've tried but it just doesn't happen. Another thing that would happen would be my time spent with the Living the Lord's Prayer retreat and team. I would start a relationship with a man, and that's a whole blog in and of it's self. What follows after are my jobs and many other things that would make this section way too long. So I leave you with where I was at the time confused and looking for more.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Faith Journey part deux
Thus I began my Seton Hall days on a religious high and in a matter of seconds was taken off it. I moved in a week after everyone, classes had already started, and I had missed the first day of most of my classes. The director of campus ministry had sent a letter to me, granted Fr. Jim probably sent a form letter inviting all incoming freshmen to stop by campus ministry. Once again I heard my mom say, "He seems nice, go find that priest." Mom was right, Fr. Jim was nice, but it would not be Fr. Jim that I would connect to; it would be the nutty Irish one that was placed in the corner by the door, the 'young priest', Fr. Sheridan aka Fr. Bill.
I filled out the Campus Ministry survey card given to me during a class one day, and I checked off nearly every box; retreats, meetings, Small Christian Communities, being a lector, greeting at Mass, RCIA and whatnot. I handed in the card and left it at that. I did search out a group called Seton Hall United For Life (SHUFL) the pro-life club/organization on campus. Looking back I realize that I thought it was strange that a Catholic school would need a pro-life organization, shouldn’t the whole campus be pro-life, little did I know that this little organization would help shape my faith and life and how many times I would continue to ask myself the question, “aren’t we Catholic?” This begins the "I need to find my faith section of my life." My first semester at SHU seemed ok; I was home most weekends so I still had my Fr. Geno (FG) Masses. I missed being home; I missed being a part of my St. Anthony's family, but things would soon change there.
At some point during the first few weeks of the semester, Pete, the grad assistant for Campus Ministry would invite my future roommate and I to a Small Christian Communities (SCC) meeting. There we sat all 7 of us around a table, a long rectangle, not a normal square or circle table, but one of those long ass board room tables. Long story short there was a knock on the door and in blew, and I mean blew Fr. Bill. Here was this young priest in regular clothes; you know jeans and a t-shirt. I thought, wow, “another crazy priest”, as Fr. Bill reminded me of Fr. Geno and well SCC aka Small Christian Communities was starting off the way youth group did, small and with 7 people. Thus began my Campus Ministry journey.
Let me add that these two priests would shape my life more than I or them probably realized at the time. Fr. Geno on a retreat before my senior year, "you're going to be the loud one next year." I honestly thought the man was nuts, I still do, but that push was all I needed to get out of my shell somewhat, I'm still working on it, but when people want to know why I am the way I am, I just say "blame Fr. Geno." Seriously, since that comment I have watched myself say and do things to defend the Church that I don't know if I would have been able to without that push to be the "loud one." I only mention FG here, because as you'll see Fr. Bill is mentioned throughout the college years. Back to our regularly scheduled rundown of my faith journey.
Walking into the cafeteria one day I was greeted at the door by “Rocky” asking me, “you ever been on a retreat?” The rest of the conversation when like this: me: “yes, Rocky.” Rocky: “good you're going on one again.” Fr. Bill happened to be standing next to Rocky and after they “twisted my arm” I was going on my first SHU retreat. On the retreat I would see just how similar FG and Fr. Bill were in style, and that Fr. Bill and I have a common background and interests. It was on the retreat that I would meet more friends and other like me. The campus ministry retreats would shape my life in many ways, allowing me to find my gifts and talents for retreat talks and planning retreats and other events, and some of them led to my evil ways, such as the Ron & Mary room from one retreat. Fr. Bill had asked Ron to type up/create the tags for the rooms, and I happened to walk in to Campus Ministry when Ron was doing this, and something inspired us to make a Ron & Mary room. I can still hear Fr. Bill in the hallway of the Ringwood retreat center, “RON! (elongated pause) MARY!” This little room incident would show me that you always need to have a sense of humor and the ability to laugh as things can go crazy in a matter of seconds.
Because of that post card that I filled out for Campus Ministry, I got a call from Renee asking if I wanted to be a part of the RCIA process as a sponsor. I said sure, all that was required of me was to attend an hour long class with my candidate and Mass on Sunday with the RCIA group. The Mass happened to be Fr. Bill's Mass, and I had learned from the Wednesday Masses, that I like Fr. Bill's Masses. I was roped into the Wednesday Masses by SHUFL, a group of about 4 or 5 people who think abortion /is wrong, it’s also where I met most of my friends at SHU. It still amuses me that on a Catholic campus the most we would get for the pro-life organization was 10 people. SHFUL met weekly on Wednesdays, and once a month met after the 12pm Mass to say the Rosary on the Green. This was introduction to Fr. Bill's masses, I liked them, and Adoration followed Mass on Wednesday which becomes more important later on. God works with what we give Him, so He has to hit me upside the head before I get it.
Back to the post card and RCIA; there I was sitting in these classes as a sponsor, which meant I should know how to be Catholic, I was confirmed after all. I sat there and was dumbfounded that I couldn't remember the Corporal works of mercy, shhh, I probably still can't name them all, but that's not the point. The point is that I used to know all of them, all the things used at Mass, all the Vestments that the priest wore, and lots of other things. I did have Catholic grammar school education; I wanted to know where all that knowledge went; why I didn’t remember all of this stuff. Old age hadn't set in yet, I wanted to know how I had forgotten it. I didn’t really forget it, it just got shifted to the back part of my brain as I didn't need religion knowledge anymore, I was from a public high school, no religion class there. Youth group helped me be religious, and reminded me how to live life, but I was floored that I had forgotten all my religion class info. I soon found out that I didn't forget it, so what if I can't name everything, I can for the most part, I was learning to live my life as a Catholic and not just go through the motions and call myself Catholic and not do anything. Youth group had shown me that being 'religious' could be fun and well now I was beginning to see, how being 'religious' would be a part of my life. The rest of my first semester continued on nicely, and soon it was time to come home for Christmas. I was happily back at St. Anthony's; I was back home, but SHU was growing on me little by little, as it does.
The following would be the moment I could describe as my "conversion moment" or my "aha moment" as Oprah calls it. I wouldn't realize just yet what was happening to me or around me until much later, and still today I wonder why it happened. My answer is usually "if it happened to teach my to love my faith and make me love the Catholic Church, then so be it, after all God does know what He is doing."
Over Christmas break I joined the college group at St. Anthony's on a ski trip to the Poconos. On the trip we re-lived some memories of youth group and some of us had to be told how to use a sled by a mother who was sledding with her child, who helped out the group of college students who were standing there trying to figure out what to do, she nicely told us we had the sleds upside down. I can only imagine the conversation she had about us later on. The nights of the trip were spent doing good old youth group stuff: music, prayer, Confession, games and just plain old bs-ing. This trip holds more memories than I realized, the conversations in Burger King about lacrosse being better than rugby, cards games and busting each other’s chops in one of our rooms, and little did I know it would be the last time that particular group would get together. It was soon time to return back to SHU and I was actually happy to be going back. The SHUFL trip to the March for Life was coming up, this would be a first for me, and the RCIA retreat was coming up too. So things were looking good and I was happy.
It may seem strange to have such a secular event in my faith journey, but so much happened in January of 1998, that the ski trip of December 1997 would be ingrained in my memory as a last of sorts. The ski trip is not the conversion moment, but what follows is, and despite how many times I have spoken about it and written about it, it still send a knife through my heart.
The March for Life took place, the RCIA retreat took place, it was a busy weekend for me so I stayed at SHU, there was no reason to come home just for a few hours on Sunday or so I thought. The Sunday after the March and retreat, I received a phone call that would change my life. It was January 25, 1998; the words, "Gary was killed in a car accident last night" still send a shiver down my spine and tears to my eyes. I wanted to be home, I had to be home, I wanted to be back at St. A's with my friends, I wanted to back on that ski trip with Gary and everyone else, because it was normal and not even a month away. I called some friends to make sure they knew, and then I called home from the hallway as to not disturb my roommate. So my dad came to get me and I don't even remember if I made it to Mass, I'm sure I did, I’m pretty sure we had Mass on the retreat. Anyway, I didn't know what to do; all I wanted to do was to be home, at St. Anthony's. Fr. Geno had a prayer service that night at St. A’s, and the first thing that happened was hugs, just hugs and tears on the steps of St. A’s. I remember St. A's that night was packed with people I went to high school with, some faces I had never seen in church. FG managed a way to comfort all of us, and I returned to SHU in a very confused state of mind. I would return home later on during the week to say good-bye at the wake, where the line was wrapped around the parking lot, the whole thing sill vivid in my mind even when I go to another funeral at Browning-Forshay, I still think, man Gary had both rooms and it still wasn't enough to hold us. Now that's a sign of love, the funeral home wasn't big enough to hold everyone.
Here would begin my “what the hell am I doing” stage of my faith. For the first time in my life I would question God, His motives, and wonder why I was Catholic. Gary's death threw me for a loop; I had never been to a funeral of someone my age, let alone a friend before. I had known of friends of a friend who died tragically, but I didn’t know them personally, so it didn’t affect me too much. Now I was away from St. Anthony's where I wanted to be, where I felt safe, and where I knew I wasn't the only one feeling sad. Alas, I had to head back to SHU, even though I didn’t really want to, live for me had to continue on. I hid my thoughts and pain from most of my friends at SHU, because there honestly was nothing they could do for me, and honestly it was only the 2nd semester for most of us, so we were still adjusting to college life. Fr. Bill somehow could see through me, or I was able to be completely open and honest with him. I remember sitting in his office, asking, “where's my faith, how could this happen, why did this happen?” Father's response was, “don't ask why, ask how, what can come from this?” I honestly thought Fr. Bill was crazy, but I trusted him, and I did take his advice. Sounds like what I said about another priest before. That piece of advice comes up to this day when I have to deal with something out of the ordinary. That spring semester, I would do things I never thought I would do; join a sorority and drink but it, drinking, didn't bother me too much. I was a legal adult at 18, and promised myself I’d never get drunk, as it was a drunk driver that killed Gary. To this day I know my limits with alcohol and stick to them. I would find myself at Adoration on Wednesdays, it helped that I signed up to spend an hour at Adoration. There were some weeks where I did more praying than others, and some weeks when I did no praying, there were times where I yelled at God inside my brain, and weeks when I would just write stuff down in a journal. Something was happening here and I didn't know what, yet. Again God works with that you give Him, and I’m as stubborn as they come, slowly He was bringing me to Him and His Son in the Most Blessed Sacrament.
Now I can't leave you with such a down part of my faith journey, so I'll end with my thoughts on what I consider to be a wonderfully Catholic University, Franciscan University of Steubenville. Again I state God works with what we give Him, and Steuvenville would be a light in the darkness for me.
Summer flew past, as I spent most of it working as a member of the custodial staff of a NYC public high school where my dad work as part of the custodial staff, so when they needed people to help clean in the summer, the employees’ children were given preference. Despite working most days from 6am-3pm, cleaning up after some nasty students and teachers I was able find time to venture with Campus Ministry to this place called Franciscan University of Steubenville. My mom at some point during my first year at SHU mentioned this Franciscan College to me, she had probably heard of it from EWTN, after all it’s either EWTN or QVC that she has on. Sure enough I found myself on a bus ride out to Steubenville, and when I returned I said, “MOM, WHY didn't you tell me about Steubenville before, it's awesome!” I didn't transfer to Steubenville though I thought about it for a few minutes; I stayed at SHU, because God had plans for me there. Franciscan University will probably come in later, after God smacks me upside the head a few more times with the idea of going there, or of doing Distance Learning for a class or two to see what it’s like.
The conferences at Steubenville, would find the closest charismatic in me, and also help me find the traditionalist in me. A charismatic traditionalist, there's something you don't hear about every day. Steubenville would be where my love of Catholic t-shirts would come about, and I certainly have a decent collection of them, and when I wear them I always get nice comments on them. I remember sitting at Mass on the first day of the conference seeing all of these shirts that had THE EUCHARIST on the back. I thought what the hell are they wearing? I soon found my Top Ten Reasons to Stay Roman Catholic tee and I still have it and love it. :) I would go on to find Dr. Scott Hahn and his writings there as well. He is one of my favorite Catholic writers because his books aren't these massive theological books, but books the normal person can read, yet are full of theology. I would also find Jeff Cavins there, and from the looks of it, I’ll be using his Bible study at my parish, so I’m sure Jeff will help shape my faith too. Steubenville would show me that being Catholic was cool, and that I wasn't alone in it. Other events helped with this too, but I always looked forward to my trips to Steubenville, they are the only school that I know of when they call for money and even if you say no, I can't afford anything right now; they say "Do you have any prayer requests?" Yeah, I still wonder why I never went there.
There's more to say about Steubenville, but I don't know where to start. I'm hoping to go to the Bible Conference (maybe I can convince my parish to pay for that one, but that requires me having the courage to admit I don't have enough money, though I probably do, to go on it) and the Defending the Faith Conference. As you will see I am a proponent of Young Adult Ministry, but it needs to be done right. My parish is a wonderful place, but it needs help in some places, again it takes me having the courage to speak up to my Pastor, and the Holy Spirit keeping the two of us open to each others comments. At. Steubenville I would experience what I think is what a Catholic University should be. I understand that you don't need a Perpetual Adoration chapel or a memorial to the unborn on your campus to make you Catholic, but the school should act Catholic and not forget that it is Catholic. Don't get me wrong I loved my time at Seton Hall, but like most Catholic Colleges and University it needs prayers and work, and I believe that SHU is changing, slowly. The conferences at Franciscan would show me a different side of me, a side that I didn't know existed, the "Bible thumpin', pew jumpin', hands in the air Catholic" as a member of the RCIA program would call us. There is no way to actually explain what Fransiscan University has done for me, and that's only through 3 young adult conferences, and I understand that the classroom is completely different, but I have a feeling I'll be there for my graduate studies, since it seems that SHU's grad school and I are not meant to be.
I'll leave you off here, to come back later when I talk about Youth 2000 and CFRs.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Faith Journey
It all started 28 years ago on Dec. 11th, when I was born into this wonderful world. On Dec.12th I entered my life as a Catholic. I was an emergency baptism as I only weighed 3lbs. 15 1/2 ozs. Thus my journey to 'religious life' began. I spent the first month of my life in a hospital with all sorts of needles sticking out of me and other such fun stuff; thankfully I don't remember any of it. I can only assume that my life continued as that of any young, Irish, American, Catholic child: Mass on Sunday, Mom and Dad teaching me the basics of life and of being a Catholic. I remember going to Mass as a child, being on my best behavior, being able to stand on the kneeler, and no toys were allowed. There was no children's church, you dealt with whatever priest you got, whether you liked him or not. We had something called a children's Mass, but if I remember correctly that was a Mass in the gym and it was probably more of a teen/young adult Mass than a children's Mass. Maybe I'm combining memories of a few Masses, but the overall point is we weren't taken out of the Church.
My early life was shaped by my family: mom, dad and my brother, and well the aunts, uncles and cousins too. Being a fair bit younger than most of them, I didn't experience as many sacraments as I could have, but there were enough Communions, Confirmations, and weddings that I can remember a good few of them.
It was soon time for me to go to school, I remember mom calling different Catholic schools, looking to get me in. We tired our home parish, but they for some reason didn't want me so I ended up at Sacred Heart Private School, which was run by the ASCJ sisters, the Apostles of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, unfortunately it’s closing at the end of this school year. It would be in these hallowed halls of the "little school with the big heart" that my vocation to "religious life" would begin.
Here the sisters would provide many things for us to do, First Friday Masses, plays, glee club aka the choir, liturgical ministries, prayer services were among the many school activities. While Mom and Dad laid the basics of the faith, the Sisters took what was there and built upon it. I read at Mass, sang in the choir, helped out around the school. These nuns hold a dear spot in my heart, especially after seeing the mother house in Rome, and because there were my first experience with “religious life.”
Yeah, I had moved to NJ that other state that my cousins lived in and I was happy until high school began. Those wonderful halls of Hawthorne High weren't friendly at first. See I do not like the fact that most of the kids in Hawthorne have made their friends/groups before they enter high school thanks to that wonderful thing called middle school. So there I was the outsider, the girl with the funny accent, trying to find her way in a school she didn't really like. There was a shining light though, for the first time in my life, I had met a man who had just become a priest. In New York the priests had been at our church since I was born, so they all seemed old to me. Deacon Geno was assigned to our parish and was ordained in Aug. 1993 becoming Fr. Geno or FG as, he was more commonly known. I thought there is no way, he's a priest; he's too young. Little did I know how much this young priest would shape my life.
For a year my mom told me, (Irish accent needed) "You should go to youth group, Fr. Geno seems like such a nice young priest." So finally one Sunday night in September of 1994, I caved, I set foot inside the newly 'ordained' youth room, and much to my surprise I actually liked being there. I met new friends, people I went to high school with, whom I never thought I'd speak to. Here began my 'oh being religious can be fun' stage of life. Through youth group I found myself doing things that I did in grammar school, I was part of our 'teen music ministry', I was a lector in the parish and over all having fun each Sunday night while learning about my faith. I wasn't using books to learn, because I had that book knowledge, I needed what would later be called "heart knowledge" by another priest who has shaped my life.
For 3 years I rarely missed a youth group meeting or outing. Finally, that dreaded day of graduation came, actually it wasn't dreaded; I looked forward to graduating from High school and moving on to college, but I knew I would miss youth group. For 4 years, Fr. Geno showed me that religion wasn't this un-cool thing. I was shown that religion was ok, and a cool teenage thing to do. The one thing I didn't like was that I was leaving youth group and facing down another new school. I didn't want to leave youth group, I had grown accustomed to hanging out on Sunday nights, singing songs, and having fun. I was now leaving all of that behind to go to Seton Hall. I believe Mike put it best on our senior retreat, "what will FG do without us next year?" My comment should have been “what am I going to do without youth group?”
My life with youth group wouldn't end with that retreat as I had one final trip left, Paris/World Youth Day (WYD). It would be on the streets of France that I would see differences between me and other teens on the trip. I had known from day 1 of the meetings, that this would not be an 'easy' trip. I knew it involved crappy food and whatnot; it was called a ‘pilgrimage’ for a reason. It would on this trip that I would thank FG for being whom and what he is. I told him at one point toward the end of the trip, I'm here to see the Pope, and that's it. He laughed, and said thanks. I knew he knew that I truly meant it, and I think it helped him to know that at least one person wasn’t there for Paris, but for something else, JP2.
At a WYD event while looking at JP2 on the big TV screen I wondered why these crazy European ladies next to me were crying like babies looking at him on TV, it was no different than watching it from home. I would later become one of those crazy ladies, many times, but for now it was a strange sight, that I couldn't figure out. Was I moved to see the Pope, aka the little white dot, yes, I was, but not to tears. I didn't cry on that trip until the last night when FG got the St. Anthony's group together and said "we say good-bye to Mary as she heads off to college." It hit me like a bullet that I was leaving youth group. I knew he didn't really mean good-bye, but I was saying good-bye to what I had come accustomed to for the past 3 years on Sunday nights and other events, like the feast, retreats, Masses, and other things where I was with people who shared my attraction to 'religion' and the unknown of college was a scary thought.
I'll end here with college, because it would be at college where my faith would "change", it would be challenged, confused, and all sorts of things. Those 4.5 years shape my life into what it is today, and to add them in here would just make this post super long.