To Be, Or Not To Be: A Seminarian

It’s been a while since I have posted. My sincerest apologies, but there is alot to catch everyone up on. As I write this post, I am now just 13 days away from Diaconate Ordination which will take place on December 8. Bishop Nicholas DiMarzio will ordain 5 of us as deacons, 3 Rockville Centre men and 2 of us from Brooklyn.

This past week, we were on our cannonical diaconate retreat which was held at St. Ignatius Retreat House in Manhasset New York. It was directed by Msgr. Fernando Ferraresse, pastor of Immaculate Conception Parish in Astoria, NY. His confrences was based on St. John’s Gospel with the title of Jesus as Lord and Master. It was a great time of rest and reflection. Each evening Msgr. showed us movies that reflected the theme of priesthood. They all seemed great, but my favorite was True Confessions with Robert Duvall and Robert DeNiro.

All in all, as I make my final preparations for diaconate ordiantion I ask for your prayers, that I may continue to follow the Lord where he calls me.

     Each year that I’ve been in Rome, we have had to let our classmates and professors know that we will not be in class on the last Thursday in November because it is a national day of Thanksgiving. The rector of our college even sends a letter to the different universities excusing us from classes on that day. It has always surprised me, however, that when we mention Thanksgiving Day the immediate response is, “Oh…si, il Tacchino.” (the italian word for turkey). However, this year one student stopped and instead of this normal response highlighting our dinner’s main course said to me, “You know that is a great thing, to spend one day as a country to thank God.” I confess that this made me pause and appreciate once again what Thanksgiving is truly about, and how great an act of witness it remains.
     For us as Catholics, however, thanksgiving is not a rare occurrence; in fact, it is the very meaning of Eucharist. To be a “Eucharistic people” means that at the center of our lives is a deep and abiding gratitude for all the abundant blessings our Lord has bestowed upon us, not the least of which is our faith and our vocation. I cannot help but think of the words the bishop speaks to the ordinandi when he hands on the chalice and paten, “imitate what you celebrate.” If as future priests we will one day celebrate the Eucharist, it must also mean that we will embody in our own lives a true and sincere gratitude, as thanksgiving in reality is at the heart of the mystery and of our faith itself.  I think my classmate said it correctly, what a great thing it really is.   Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Some time ago one of my fellow seminarians came to me. He needed me to help him with a presentation he had due the next day. Unfortunately for him, the day he asked me was a Sunday. Most of my friends know that I don’t like to work on Sunday. In my book, it’s a day separated specifically for the enjoyment of God, family, friends, deep prayer and other wholesome pleasures (like the Louis DeWohl novel I’ve been trying to finish for the last month).

But work? Not on Sunday. Sure, I recognize that some should work on Sundays: firefighters, police officers, health care workers (such as my mother) and the like. There are also those people who have to work because corrupt aspects of our present economic system don’t allow them to earn a living wage and work only six days a week. But these are exceptions. They fall under the the category of the issues Christ meant when He said “Who among you, if your son or ox falls into a cistern, would not immediately pull him out on the sabbath day?” (Lk 14:5).

But for the harried brother seminarian who darkened my doorway one Sunday afternoon, I held little sympathy. Knowing his personality, I figured that he had likely squandered the time needed for research and preparation on extensive naps and you-tube videos. But when it deemed him expedient, he came running to my door hoping I had spare oil for his dying lamp (Mt 25:1-13).

My response was even more harsh than the ten wise virgins: “I’ll help you tomorrow morning. If you want to get this project done, come to my room at 7.”

Here at the seminary, we usually have morning prayer at 7:30. But for that auspicious Monday, we were allowed extra time; morning prayer would be at 9:00.

Crushed by my (characteristic) insensitivity, with wild fear in his eyes, my brother responded, “7 a.m. I can’t do that.”

Sanctifying grace kept me from laughing in his face. But he could read my smile.

“I wake up at 6:50 everyday. It’s not fair. I can’t get up at 7 on our day off.”

“Why not go to sleep earlier. If you want to get it done…” I responded

“I can’t do that,” he protested. “It’s not right.”

“If you want to get…” I began again.

“Fine!” he growled, taking back the assignment sheet I held. He turned, heading back to his room.  “7 a.m.?” he continued mumbling. “I can’t. I can’t”

I knew what you’re thinking: and yes I can be quite sadistic. But in this case, I think my love for my brother and for what our rector, Msgr. Peter Vaccari, (among others) calls “an asceticism of time” compelled me to dispense tough love.

Consider what aspects of our lives need tough love. How has the Lord asked me to wake up and yet I hit snooze? Ususally when we hit snooze we have in our minds the proper wake time. When is the latest that I will arise to the duty at hand? After college? After working in the world for a few years? What about now?  I ask you, the reader, the question as much as I ask myself. What about now?

I’ll write more on this tomorrow. Now, however, it’s time to sleep.

I spend most of my weekends in the seminary –even though we’re given a break from Friday afternoon into Saturday. Over the weekend, several groups come in to conduct retreats and seminars. Sometime ago I had an experience that reminded of a scene in the Gospel. The scene is the calling of Nathanael in John 1:43-51. To understand my message, read the passage and then come back to the blog.

Done? Good. So here’s the story. I was working out in the seminary gym, blasting on the stereo, late one Saturday night. I decided to grab some water. As I walked out, I slammed the door into the face of some kid who was standing on the other side. He was about 19.
He apologized and explained that he was on retreat with his university. When he heard loud music coming from the other side of the door, he thought there a party. It was probably just as he pressed his ear against the door that I ran into him. [That's how God works these "coincidences", you know.]

We began talking about his retreat. At one point he remarked “You guys have a gym, too? This place [the seminary] is huge. You guys have it made.”

“Well,” I said, “prayer and study aren’t very active. So we need to work off extra energy while we’re here. It’s not just a frat house.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I thought about being a priest or a brother but I think I should be a deacon…” [and then came my favorite line] “…after I get married.”

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Side note: I’m in no position to question his motives. From my experience, however, every time I’ve asked a young man who has expressed a desire to become a deacon, why he would like to do so, I’ve received the invariable answer “because I can preach and get married.” Every single time, without exception. I decided to give this kid the small benefit of the doubt and not ask him. I’ll write more at another time on the spirituality of the diaconate.

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So I asked: “Okay, I figure you’re about 18 or 19 years-old, right?”

“Yeah”

“Well, I think most dioceses want a candidate for diaconate to be at least 35 years-old. So you’ve got a good 17 years to pray and think about it.”

Catching on to my drift, he chimed in “you know, I’m not against the priesthood. I know we need priests and all that. But I just feel…” He trailed off.

“I hear you”, I said. Then, echoing St. JoseMaria Escriva, I said “in fact, I hope you have a holy, beautiful, and amazing wife…if that’s what God wants from you. Or, if He wills it, you could…”

“be a priest,” he finished my words.

We talked to some degree more. I told him about a few deacons I know who’ve discerned that they are not called to be married and yet not called to be priests. The Lord wants them to be single, celibate deacons, working in the world and for the Church. That amazed him.

“They might as well become priests,” he said.

“Only if it’s what God wants,” I responded. And I meant it.  He was pensive.

“Listen,  just as long as you try to be a holy as you possibly can and remain open to whatever Jesus wants, that’s all that really matters. Our Lord will show you.” I think he was heartened that I didn’t conscript him into the seminary.

We parted on the agreement to pray for each other.

Now I feel our Lord speaking to my heart close to what He had said to Natahanael, “here is a true Israelite.” “Yes, my Lord. But how long do you think he’ll stay sitting under that fig tree,” I wonder. “Not very long,” Jesus seems to say. “He’s already dusting off his pants and putting on his sandals. I’ll call him soon enough.”

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In my mind, I can imagine Nathanael knew Jesus was in town. Unlike Zacchaeus in Luke 19:1-10 or the two blind men in Matthew 20:30-34, this kid knows exactly where Jesus is walking. He can see Jesus in the distance, crossing the horizon. He can see Jesus and wants to walk over. Maybe Nathanael, too, was looking for holiness. Maybe he, too, was considering an easy way out. Something holds him back. The unknown. For this reason, when our Lord greets him and accepts his trust (at the prompting of a good friend), the perceptive Lord satisfies some of the young man’s worries.

“‘Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than this.’ And he said to him, ‘Amen, amen, I say to you, you will see the sky opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.’”

And suddenly the unknown is a bit clearer. The message is still cryptic. But there’s solace in knowing that we are following a Man who will eventually disclose the right answers. But one must first be open, stand up, and ask “can anything good come of the priesthood?” Or the diaconate, or the married life, or the religious life, for that matter. For all vocations belong to the Lord and must be asked of Him.

Behold, the Lord will make things clearer for you. Keep your eyes on Him, don’t lag too far behind the crowd of disciples, and pray with every step.

What more can I say but: Come and see.