To Be, Or Not To Be: A Seminarian

     Recently, I was heading out of the building on the elevator when a classmate of mine, out of nowhere, said, “So, we’ve got four months.” The comment took me off guard, and I immediately began to mentally calculate how many months remained before June 26. Sure enough…it was four months.
     These last few months before ordination are filled with preparations and things to do. It seems that each member of my family has been assigned a particular duty. Lists are made, items checked off, and new lists are formed. Errands are being run, e-mails sent back and forth, and phone calls often run long into the night. Yet, in the midst of all this activity and preparation there remains one central calming and stabilizing element: encountering Christ Jesus. Increasingly, over these last few months we who with God’s help will be ordained this summer cannot help but feel ever more intensely that desire to be conformed to Jesus Christ, and with him at the center all the other activities fall into a secondary place.
     As I go through all of my applications, essays, and paperwork that I completed when I began this journey of formation, I am repeatedly struck by the Lord’s providence at work. Even in times of trial and difficulty one can see the invitation of the Lord to grow and become more like Him, and it is in those often unexpected encounters that one’s faith grows, one’s heart is softened, and one’s relationship with the Lord is strengthened. In my breviary, there is a card with a passage written by St. Theresa of Avila (which is addressed to each Christian), but which as ordination approaches I have been reflecting upon in light of the call to priesthood:
Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassionately on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.

Have a Blessed Lent, and keep us in your prayers!

Thank you, Deacon Bruno for your post on the effects and response needed by the Faithful when faced with a crises such as we are now. The Archdiocese of New York and the Dioceses of Brooklyn and Rockville Centre are home to hundreds of thousands of Haitians. Everyone is aware of that, I’m sure.
In formation for the priesthood we have ten Haitian seminarians, myself included. The last few weeks have been difficult to navigate emotionally for all of us in the house.

At times a visitor might ask about the backgrounds of the seminarians. When one or another of us says he’s Haitian, the inquirer falls silent –unsure of what to say next. I can imagine that “I’m sorry” just doesn’t feel right for the person. He or she asks about family members lost or injured. And when the answer is given, more silence follows.

It’s easier to talk about when neither party is invested as deeply as the seminarians here are.

I can’t speak for the other men in formation. But anyone who knows me knows that I love apologetics. I enjoy the back-and-forth of a respectful debate on religion as I try to show a skeptic the beauty of the Catholic Christian Faith. I get a kick out of the crazy questions kids ask me when I visit school. I’ve always got a response.

And yet these passed few weeks, when friends have called me asking how they could help, what I might need, and how I’m feeling, I’m almost unable to speak. It’s especially difficult when I can hear the echo in some of my friends questions. The immediate question concerns my family members. But the in the silence which follows, he or she wants me to tell them “why.” Unfortunately, the citation from the Catechism won’t help.

A stock answer forms itself. “All of my family members in Haiti are alive, thanks be to God.”

But every time I say it I’m less satisfied. And the hearer believes little of the calmness reflected in the words.

Since what I said is true, shouldn’t I be happy? Can I exult? But others of my Haitian brethren in this house of formation have lost best-friends, former professors, cousins, and other close family members. Many of those family members still alive are living homeless, afraid to go back to their hometown where food may be even more scarce than in the capitol. And sometimes the tremors are more prevalent away from Port-au-Prince.

This mixed elation, sadness, fear, and confusion escape the polished, antiseptic answer which I usually enjoy (which is probably evident even now as I try to type them into sense). They elude the thesis statements which lead my scholarly essays.

Instead the same dry, sooty responses repeat themselves.

It’s easier I believe to remember St. Paul’s letter to the Romans (8:22-28) where he writes

“We know that all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now; and not only that, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, we also groan within ourselves as we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.
For in hope we were saved. Now hope that sees for itself is not hope. For who hopes for what one sees?
But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait with endurance. In the same way, the Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings. And the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because it intercedes for the holy ones according to God’s will. We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.”

The questions aren’t new.  We’ve been asking them ever since the first innocent person died in history. I pray the priests who are called upon to be the answer-men, have the right ones to give. I pray when I’m ordained I’ll be able to respond satisfactorily to the woman or man who comes to my door having experienced unimaginable tragedy. I suspect though that the answer won’t be very different from the silence and inexpressible groanings I hear from all the learned men around me at the seminary. May the Spirit comes to our aid. May our Lord guide us by hope to those places, those answers which we seek with endurance.

Notre Dame du Perpetuel Secours, priez pour nous.

Saint Esprit, intercedez pour nous.

On January 17, 56 first year students were instituted Lectors by Bishop Paul Loverde, Bishop of Arlington, in the Immaculate Conception Chapel of the Pontifical North American College. Among them were two seminarians of the Diocese of Brooklyn: Christopher Heanue and Jun Hee Lee. Each man presented himself before Bishop Loverde and while placing their hands on the Sacred Scriptures were instructed by the bishop, “Take this book of holy Scripture and be faithful in handing on the Word of God so that it may grow strong in the hearts of his people.” The Institution of Lector while not exclusively reserved to those preparing for the priesthood remains with Acolyte and Candidacy one of the key steps toward diaconate and priestly ordination. We congratulate Chris and Jun and pray that the Word of God may continue to bear fruit in their lives as they continue their priestly formation.

Presentation of Those to Be Instituted

Chris Instituted

Jun Instituted

     I believe it is not an overstatement to say that the hearts and minds of a large part of the world are focused on the situation in Haiti. The great devastation that has occurred, the unfathomable loss of life, and the continued suffering of a resilient people who have been through so much over these past few decades, causes all of us to stop and consider what we can do to help our brothers and sisters in need during this time.
     It is also clear that the Church of Haiti has suffered a tremendous loss as well. I received word from a friend of mine that in his community at least one seminarian is missing in their Haitian province. The Archbishop of Port-au-Prince, Joseph Serge Miot, as well as a number of clergy and seminarians have lost their lives as a result of the earthquake. Msgr. Bernardito Auza, the Apostolic Nuncio to Haiti, has reported that combined with the tremendous loss of life, all of the city’s major churches, its cathedral, and seminary have all collapsed.

     In the face of this disaster, I believe, however, one central characteristic of the Church emerges clearly once again: its charity. Ignatius of Antioch in the prologue to his Epistle to Rome, writes that the Church of Rome, “presides in charity.” Indeed, in the face of the suffering of others, it has always been the tradition of the Church to reach out and do all it can to aid those in need. This situation is no exception. Archbishop Dolan, Archbishop of New York, recently commented that Haiti is “the broken and bloody body of Jesus.” As members of our Lord’s mystical body, therefore, we live in communion with each other and can do nothing else but respond to the needs of our brothers and sisters in Christ. Therefore, by our prayers, by our financial contributions, and by our care and concern for those among us who might have lost family or friends in Haiti, let us once again live that charity, so essential to who we are as Christ’s mystical body on earth.

Our Lady of Perpetual Help, Patroness of Haiti, Pray for Us!

Scripture refers to Jesus as the cornerstone of the Church, that crucial piece of the construction without which the whole structure cannot properly take shape.

It’s been a couple of weeks since I wrote about time and its proper use. It’s so ironic then that I was so swamped with activities during the interim.

I had a presentation and two papers due this week. I nailed the presentation on the head on Monday. On the papers, I’ve received a stay of execution from both professors.

I can’t get out from under these papers. It’s been a problem since highschool. I had it diagnosed in college by a couple of professor who labeled me a perfectionist. I thought perfectionist got everything done well.

They informed me, though, that perfectionists actually get nothing done because the task at hand never seems quite done. It’s a bit different from procrastination which thinks the job will get itself done.

Thus instead of handing in a B+ paper when it’s due, I hand in one worth an A+ one week later. The result: a C+.

Imagine a kid who got all wound up with anxiety when he wanted to play with his Lego set. He’d enjoy himself…if only he had enough pieces for the front foyer.

You’d feel like yelling “just build a regualr castle, Johnny”. But he’s paralyzed, unable to start until he’s planned the Swedish baths in the North wing of the structure.

But it’s not essential. Christ is essential. Christ keeps the castle standing. His absence makes it crumble.

May Our Lady and her “Fiat”– her quick acceptance of God’s offer, her immediate response to allow Christ to structure her– allow me to complete these last few days of the semester with ease.

Let’s get it done, Johnny. And may Christ be the center.