Days 6 and 7 of the Home Challenge! Yeah, our internet was down all day yesterday!
Here’s my closet; not much in there. I have a few clerical shirts and a suit, a few dress shirts and polos, a couple coats, an alb, two cassocks, a surplice and a tux (for singing in choirs, though I haven’t had time this year). I also have a rolling suitcase for traveling, two fedoras and a bunch of empty boxes for moving.
Here’s our dining room!
Day Six of the Home Challenge!
Rats! I don’t really have a garden/yard either! I guess I’ll just post some pics of the yard I grew up with in Iowa.
Day Five of the Home Challenge!
The absolute greatest treasure of the Catholic Church is the Eucharist. Jesus told His followers that He would be with us until the end of the age, and He entrusted this most precious Sacrament to His Church so that He could remain with us in not merely a spiritual way (since He was not merely a spirit; that’d be heresy!) but also a physical and tangible way. One of the privileges of being in religious life is you always have a chapel in your community (at least I haven’t yet been to one or heard of one where this is lacking!) and in that chapel is a tabernacle in which Our Lord waits for you, all day, every day, so patiently. I don’t have to wait until death or the Second Coming to be with Him, to rest in His presence; Jesus literally dwells in my home.
During the hour before I go to bed and during my first hour of the day (assuming I’m not behind on sleep and I can wake up at 5:45am without a problem!) I go to the larger of our two chapels.
I don’t really care for the architecture of the place, but what I love is that it is spacious, quiet, and during the times I’m in there it is never in use. The big glass dome in the ceiling lets in natural light during the day and at night there are only a couple of lights on the wall that come on. That statue of St. Camillus on the right has startled me so many times at night; it’s very life-like!
My two favorite features of this chapel are the crucifix and the tabernacle (off the left side of the pic; closeups to follow). I’ve never seen a crucifix quite like this one, one that really captures the agony He must have felt. When I come here to pray I like to stand at the foot of this large cross and look up at Him and try to understand what it was truly like for Mary and John and the others to stand looking up at Him as He suffered out of such a love as we will never understand in this life.
Sorry this next picture turned out crooked! But I assure the floor in the chapel is quite level.
One thing I love about this tabernacle is that it is so accessible. I love to kneel in front of it at night and rest my head and arms on the ledge, right there before my Lord.
And that is where I pray, every day, for so many of you Xangans, by name, face-to-face with Jesus Christ, in the flesh.
Day Four of the Home Challenge!
Uh oh! I don’t have a fridge! My community has a fridge where we keep some leftovers and things, but it isn’t mine per se and there isn’t anything on the front…so how about I compromise and show you my dresser? I don’t have anything on the front of it, but I have things on top of it!
Here is my dresser, on top of which I keep my “treasures” I suppose we could call them. From left to right on the wall is a picture of Fr. Adolfo Nicolas, our superior general of the Society of Jesus, and of course the big picture is my Blessed Mother! There is also a little holy card of St. Joseph stuck in the corner of the frame. Behind the statuette of Our Lady is a photo of my best friend and I before she entered a convent in 2010 (a close-up is found below). Next to the statuette is a smaller one of St. Joseph, and next to him is the adorable little nun figurine you can see a closeup of below as well.
Just in front of the St. Joseph statuette is a little metal case in which I have to relics: one of St. Ignatius of Loyola and one of St. Catherine of Siena. On top of the cedar box is the crucifix that was on my grandfather’s casket at his funeral (a gift my grandmother gave me), and I keep under the feet of that crucifix my Roman collar, just to remind me not only of WHO I serve but HOW I ought to serve Him! Inside the cedar box (my dad made it for me) I keep all sorts of things like rosaries, medals, little prayer books, etc. The most important thing I keep inside is my prayer journal; so many people ask me to pray for them so I keep a journal with the date, their name and their intention, so that when I don’t have the human capacity or the time to pray for every intention I tell God to read my journal. And He does!
In front of the box are the pictures of all the other men in formation in my province, and then a picture of Blessed Pope John Paul II. In the back, in the black frame, is a photocopy of my baptismal certificate, and then a few little books for prayer, and then my breviary on top of the daily missal (which contains all the daily readings for Mass). In between the two, on that white piece of paper, are all the intentions I’m praying for during the season of Lent; many of you Xangans are on that list, and there is room for more if you’d like prayers!
This is that picture of my best friend and I; we decided we wanted a fun picture for our last together. At least our last one before she would wear a habit and have a different name! AND before I got my hair cut; as you can see I had a pretty glorious head of hair. 
Isn’t this little figurine just adorable? I found it in the room of a resident here who passed away.
Day Three of the Home Challenge!
If you walked into my room and turned to your left, this is what you’d see.
Looking over the top of my “work desk” you’d see my computer desk on the left, my calendars straight ahead, and the door to my bathroom with my jacket hanging on a hook.
Walking around my desk and turning again to your left, you’d see this. I made it all tidy just for y’all!
And this is where I Xanga!
Home Challenge Day 2!
The trees in the distance are the border of the Milwaukee County Zoo; sometimes you can hear the peacocks!
Hey all!
I know, no substantial post for a while! But I’m hoping that within the next week to receive some material from a friend so that I can post a really wonderful entry; we’ll see what Jesus wants!
In the meantime I thought this Home Challenge thing might be fun, especially since I imagine most of you have more than just a single room! That’s all I have; just a li’l ol’ room with a bed and stuff. Luckily I have my own bathroom, but that hasn’t always been the case. Anywho, I guess the first day you post pictures of where you sleep. Here goes!
“Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep”
Here’s my bed, all neat and tidy.
Here’s my vow cross.
Here’s my nightstand with:
-holy water (to bless myself before bed)
-a picture of my Blessed Mother!
-a photograph of my dear St. Gemma Galgani
-a photograph of St. Therese of Lisieux (sorry about the glare)
-a photograph of St. Bernadette Soubirous
-a holy card of St. Gemma with a prayer on the back
-my alarm clock
-a small crucifix that @living_embers gave me; it is a treasure that I pray with every night.
-a rosary ring
That’s where I sleep!
Hey friends!
I was removing some pictures from my cell phone and thought I would share a couple with you; hopefully they’ll brighten your day!
This first one is for @lucywrites and she’ll know why:
I saw this at the local Menards and it totally cracked me up.
My dad, all the way up until 1982, used to collect beer cans. Back in February I went to visit him and he asked me to build a pyramid or something with them so he could take a picture and put them on Craigstlist or eBay. Behold, 212 antique beercans in what I call the Great Beer-amid!
I hope that you are all well and blessed; hopefully I’ll have a chance to offer a real post in the next few days!
@tgwiy asked some interesting questions in a recent post that I thought I would answer for the interest of all who are…well, interested. I am preparing to give a talk about how my grandparents influenced my call to the priesthood so I’ve been thinking a lot on the topic of why I’m Catholic anyways, so here goes. She proposed a sort of three-tiered approach to the whole thing, so I will follow the same.
“The first level is the atheist/theist level. You either believe in a higher power, or you don’t (or you don’t know obviously). It makes sense to me why people would believe in a higher power, no matter what religion it is.”
I remember when I was in middle school we listened to Aaron Copland’s “Appalachian Spring” in music class; I think I was in fifth grade. I didn’t really care for nor pay attention to music whatsoever at that point in my life. I wasn’t religious either; church was just a thing we did as a family on Sundays because that’s what Catholics do on Sundays. But when that part of “Appalachian Spring” started to play, the melody of the famous Shaker hymn called “Simple Gifts,” I felt something stir deep inside me. I didn’t understand why it made me feel the way it did, but something moved me in a way I’d never been moved before. Not long after that we began listening to Beethoven and when I heard the choral section of his ninth symphony for the first time I was completely undone. Something changed profoundly inside of me, and in the years since then as I tried to understand it, I began to realize that it was in music I first encountered beauty.
Never at any point in my life did I ever question the existence of God; theism was always taken for granted and for the most part unconscious. But as I became more and more acquainted with beauty I began to ask myself, “Where does beauty come from? Why is anything beautiful to begin with?” As this whole reality began to unfold for me all manner of things began to change. I stopped caring about popularity and focused on being true to myself and who I was. Band and making music was something I began taking seriously, and I enjoyed my art and choir classes a great deal more, as well as my English classes; my writing really began to take off. Soon I’d even start dabbling in poetry, a gift I still enjoy from time to time, as you all know from my yearly St. Valentine’s Day poem.
I began to notice beauty in two unexpected places: in nature and in women (or girls, as they were at that age!) though the latter came a few years later. I began exploring the wilderness around my house, especially around the beautiful creek to the east and the timber that grew along its banks. Walking in the early evening as the golden sun cast everything in its perfect color was my favorite thing to do.
When I was in seventh grade a girl named Mandy moved to town. Before I saw her I thought girls were icky and nothing but trouble, yet one look at her dark eyes and auburn hair and I was convinced otherwise. Nothing ever came of that crush but a lot of interior drama and a song I wrote for her on the piano, however it was with her that I began to realize what this pursuit of and appreciation for beauty was teaching me: that first (when I only saw beauty in things) I had a yearning for something and later (when I saw beauty in a person) that I yearn for someone. Interestingly enough, though, it was before I met Mandy that, giving up on my dreams of being an astronaut, I realized my “dream job” was being a stay-at-home dad. Strange for a sixth-grader, no?
This pursuit of beauty led me on a journey that would only lead me deeper and deeper into the reality of myself, one that brought me to encounters with the source of beauty Himself. But you all know that story fairly well!
What I understand now, looking back at those early days, is that I was encountering a phenomenon far beyond what I could understand, something that did not have an earthly explanation. I remember thinking that beauty, especially beauty as experienced in non-human things, has no real applicability or relevance when it comes to human survival; in other words, it makes no sense to suggest that beauty is merely a natural instinct on a purely biochemical or physiological level (granted I was not using these terms or concepts in middle school for crying out loud!). It is easier to see how finding beauty in the opposite sex can have material explanations, but I remember (as I would fall in love later on of course) wondering, too, why this particular girl or that particular one was so beautiful to me even though there were so many very attractive girls in my high school, small as it was (graduating class of around 75). If finding the opposite sex attractive is all about mating and the like, why this phenomenon of finding one particular woman beautiful above all others?
As I became older and, hopefully, wiser I began to realize more and more that beauty was a gift, an intentional one at that, and not merely a fluke of nature. Beauty is a rational response; we understand that something is beautiful, even though our opinions on what exactly is beautiful differ according to our tastes and intellectual ability (what children find beautiful and what adults find beautiful can be vastly different, such as when girls were “icky” and then, magically, they were not!). Were beauty merely a random thing with no rationality behind it whatsoever, then I wouldn’t be able to comprehend it or understand it to be beautiful. Nor would it be possible, it seems to me, for there to be a vast consensus regarding things that are beautiful: newborn babies, certain men or certain women, certain pieces of music, sunsets or other natural phenomenon, etc., especially considering the diversity of factors influencing the perspectives and tastes of those in such consensus! Yet songs and poems about sunsets have been written in many cultures for centuries.
I began to see over the years that beauty wasn’t so much a something as it was the action of a someone, such a one that was trying to speak something to me through beauty. Eventually I would come to realize that someone was God, the one who makes anything that is beautiful beautiful in the first place.
So, a long story about why I am a theist! Or at least how I came to affirm my theism to begin with.
“The second level is what religion you “choose” once you identify as a theist. There’s so many you could be. Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Taoist, Buddhist, Shinto, Wiccan, Pagan, Mayan, Roman, Greek, Hindu, Sikh, Janist, and so on and so forth. It fascinates me when people say “I am _____ because of X reasons.”"
The easy answer is that I am Christian because when I was thirty-one days old I was baptized such and my parents raised me in such a way to foster the Christian faith.
(Baby Me on Day One and Baby Me on Day One of my new life in Christ)
That and I grew up in a town where there were no mosques and synagogues! Not because we didn’t like Jews and Muslims but because, frankly, in a small farming town of just over 3,000 people you just aren’t going to get a lot of religious diversity.
I suppose, though, that I’ve chosen to remain Christian chiefly by a special grace that helped me to choose it. Also, and I mean no disrespect, but Muhammed did not offer his life for me, nor did Buddha, nor did any other non-Christian religious figure. As for polytheism (Roman, Greek, etc.) it seems to me that if gods are like us save for they are immortal, powerful and perfect, well, its nonsense to me. If a god is perfect, meaning that it lacks nothing and is utterly complete in itself, then why need there be more than one? Even were I not Christian I think I would tend naturally toward monotheism; at least in that I could form a meaningful relationship with a god to whom I can be grateful for everything, as opposed to picking a favorite god or gods among whom I must divide my heart.
“And the third level is what “flavor” you are. For example, you’re Christian, but you’re Southern Baptist, or Pentecostal, or Catholic, or Mormon, Eastern Orthodox, Methodist, Lutheran, Presbyterian, Anglican, and so on.”
Meet my great-great-great-grandparents Johannes and Elisabetha from Brilon, Westphalia, Germany (or, in those days, Prussia). They were the first of my paternal ancestors to immigrate to the United States and settled in Norway, Iowa in 1865. They were wed in Sts. Peter and Andrew Church in Brilon, which was the church Johannes was baptized in, which was the church his parents were married in and his father was baptized in, and so on back into the 1600s at least (I haven’t had a chance to look further). However what I do see is that my family has been Catholic for a very, very long time, since before the Reformation and since there wasn’t anything in Germany before that then they’ve probably been Catholic since St. Boniface and others first began to preach the Gospel to the Germanic tribes centuries after the fall of the Roman Empire. As I’ve become to realize this my Catholic heritage has become dear to me; to think that my simple family of farm-folk from Germany has remained true to the faith that was first preached to them over a thousand years ago–even in spite of the Protestant Reformation that swept through their homeland–well, why would I ever want to leave?
My grandparents Don and Leila, who passed the faith to my father, who influenced my mother’s conversion from being Southern Baptist; she saw the joy that my grandparents always carried with them and when she realized how inseparable it was from their Catholic faith, she realized that she wanted it for herself as well. And now, even in the midst of crippling debt, two jobs and being divorced, she is yet joyful and the Eucharist is her greatest treasure. Praise God! And God bless my grandma; she just turned 93 on March 5th and prays the rosary twice a day for the whole family.
(A photo of my grandmother that my grandfather carried in his wallet during World War II.)
In addition to inheriting such a treasure as the Christian faith as it was taught and handed down by my ancestors, I’ve come to cherish the Catholic faith for other reasons, too. I love it’s history; granted, there are some painful and ugly parts of it. But there is also so much beauty and goodness that a person could not even glimpse it all in a life time. I love the saints and their writings, the stories of their lives. I love the martyrs; to think that through the ages there have been hundreds of thousands of Christians who believed the same as I and were killed for it! I love the Mass and the way we incarnate our faith in the world. I love the sacraments and above all the Eucharist; this is my dearest treasure of all. What’s more is that the Eucharist is Christ, unchanged through the centuries: when I receive the Eucharist at Mass every day I am receiving the same Christ in the same way the FIRST of my ancestors did when they were received into the Body of Christ all those centuries ago; Christ is truly my alpha and omega. I love the Pope and the Papacy, that there is a living voice of authority to whom we can look for guidance when questions of faith and morals arise that are not so clearly spelled out in Scripture or are clear in tradition. I love the universality of the Church and its world-encompassing scope. I love the different rites–twenty-three ways of being Catholic!–that have arisen from the traditions laid down by the Apostles as they preached the Gospel to different peoples in different lands.
But most of all I love Jesus Christ. When I stop to consider that there was only one Church around after He founded it on St. Peter and that I, by the grace of God, was born into that same Church that traces its roots historically, traditionally, archaeologically, spiritually, scripturally and ritually all the way back to that founding moment I find myself, whenever asked by anyone if I ever thought of leaving the Catholic Church, saying the same words as that strong-headed, sometimes idiotic, but earnest St. Peter, “To whom shall I go? You have the words of everlasting life.” Jesus Christ founded the Church, He founded it once and as one, He desired it to remain one, He entrusted it to the Apostles, and today it is known as the Catholic Church. It wasn’t founded by some guy named “Cathol” (thanks, Eddie Izzard) because it isn’t named after who founded it, but rather named for what it is: a universal (katholikos) body of people called out of (ekklesia) the world to be His. It’s called the Catholic Church simply because that’s what it is; I don’t know that I would be comfortable belonging to the Church of Luther, Calvin, or anyone else but Christ.
“What did your spiritual journey look like?”
Beyond what I’ve shared here (I tried really hard to pull up some previously unpublished material!) I’ve given the full-length version beginning here at the post called “In the Beginning.” That begins a whole series regarding my faith journey as well as my vocation story. Many have enjoyed reading it, so I hope you all do as well.
I hope this post was interesting for you; feel free to ask more questions in the comments if you wish!
He heeded not her cry, instead letting himself fall into the pool as though to drown, and he fought not the embrace of the cold water as it dragged him down by the leaden weight of his heavy raiment. Darkness began to surround his vision as a enclosing army when of a sudden he felt as though a great hand had closed around him, and he was pulled through the hole of the dividing wall into the pool of the lady, being lifted up and spat out upon the water’s edge. He opened his eyes and coughed violently, water pouring from his mouth, his hair and garments, and all that he heard was muddled from what water yet filled his head.
The king’s vision cleared and behold did he see before him also on the water’s edge the boat that had borne his lady aloft, turned on its side and broken. She ran to him, her skirts clinging wet to her legs though they could do nothing to impede her, and she cradled his head in her lap as she repeated his name over and over again.
“What…what has happened?” he said in bewilderment.
“My love, you have tipped the scales; when you entered the water it was as though an enchantment were broken, and the water in my pool rushed upward and heaved the both of us onto the shore. My father is satisfied; I am yours to wed!” For it was that her worth could not be matched by gold or jewel, nay, not even for the whole of the world would any scale yield to balance, but only could the life of one who loved her make such a purchase. Thus when Médash gave himself to the waters in which all his treasure lay was a gift equal to her offered, and thus was it accepted.
A great current of humanity swept the two of them up and out of the dark chamber, bearing them into the warmth of the afternoon sun, and what a feast was had that night! Yet it was not to last, for in the midst of it all Drostérn approached the king, saying, “My lord and king, it is that I shall depart in the morning with my gold. Please make provision for its transport, as well as for my daughter and myself, and in one year’s time when certain preparations have been made she shall return to you for her wedding day.”
There is no word nor words, no image or thought that can convey the sheer wealth that departed the mountain the following day. Not a golden pin was left to Médash, not the plainest, most rough-cut gem nor the minutest glitter of diamond dust; even the gold and silver threads of his garments had been removed, as well as the pearl buttons. Though he bid farewell in great joy, in the days to come he began to sink in great worry, for already other kings were reminding him of his debt.
Six months passed him by, Médash all the while hearing naught from his bride save for one letter a month promising him constantly of her continued love. Too there came at first messages, then messengers, then very solemn declarations indeed from kings who required repayment of the debt—with interest—lest their own kingdoms begin to suffer. The king turned to his people in earnest, and all gave freely what they could for love of their dear king, and though their offerings satisfied the distant rulers for a time at year’s end there was talk of forfeiting land and perhaps Acton itself in order to settle the debt. No more did people speak of the Golden Hand, for in the eyes of many it had become one of tin or even clay, the Hand itself lowered and outstretched as that of a beggar. The king himself lived nearly as a hermit in his great halls, eating only what food his people would offer out of kindness each day, for he had nothing with which to pay a soul. His servants had all left him to find employment elsewhere, his armies had disbanded likewise, and even his great horse had been sold that he might have bread for a month, though by that time it had become mold and worm-ridden.
The spring came and lo one day did the king look out in the four directions and see columns of men marching forth to the mountain from three of them, and from the wastes he saw nothing. He knew not what day it was, and all hope fled his heart; thus did he fall on the cold flags of his empty bedchamber and weep, crying aloud to God, “Oh my Lord, my King; I have nothing! Once I was the King of Kings; now I am but a beggar. Should it be that you leave me in this hour, oh my God, I shall surely have nothing at all; I shall cease to be.”
At midday all his people lined the walls of the mountain and watched as the armies of twelve kingdoms arrayed themselves on three sides. Messengers rode forward to deliver terms, but the king sat upon a wooden chair—for his golden throne had been melted down—and said not a word. Those men who brought tidings and demands turned away from the once great king, shaking their heads in sorrow to see him so diminished, and soldiers were made ready to occupy the whole of the mountain and see to its fair division among the kings to which Médash was indebted.
Then it was that Médash heard a sound in his empty throne room, a flutter of wings, and he beheld for a third time the white dove as it circled above him seven times and then departed out the western window. Following it hence he looked as it soared over the wastes, and there did he spy a single rider on a black steed. Trumpets rose up from among the armies and soon, too, did the few trumpets remaining of his own answer, and the lone rider was granted leave by twelve generals to enter the mountain. In awe did the king behold the rider, for the creature that bore him was none other than his own great warhorse.
“My king!” said the rider, “I bring tidings from your lady, who even now rides hence to greet you! For the winter’s passed, and spring’s appearing; the hour of your union is at hand.”
Though this news stirred his heart somewhat, Médash bid the messenger depart, “Tell my lady that I am no longer worthy of her hand, for I can offer her naught but a cave and a shadow of a husband.”
“My lord, I shall report no such thing. Do not let evil thoughts extinguish your hope, for behold from the desert comes your salvation!”
Looking again through the western window the king fell to his knees, for coming forth from the desolate dunes was a great and winding train of wagons, the very same that had gone hence from his mountain a year before. But now it was all decked in flowers and bells, serpentine flags ornamenting each vessel such that the whole train seemed like a flaming dragon crawling across the earth. Musicians played joyfully and dancers spun and cartwheeled alongside the caravan, and soon wagons were being diverted to each army to satisfy the debts of Médash. Armor and weapons were cast aside and camps were struck, and peace swept over the mountain like a long-awaited rain. The king could not believe the grace of God and his heart burst with gratitude as wagon upon wagon made its way to Acton, bringing hope and life anew.
Hours passed before the entire caravan was within the gates, and hours still before all the people of the mountain and the caravan were assembled in the great arena. Mighty men from some distant land bore the king upon a golden litter—formerly one of his own—and brought him to the center.
A voice announced, “People of Médash! Behold the Lady Rodhél, betrothed of the Golden King!” Then a unicorn trotted in, pulling behind it an ivory chariot in which stood Rodhél dressed all in white silks with lilies adorning her hair. All the former soldiers and servants of Médash marched in after her, bearing in their hands and upon their shoulders all his former treasure, down to the very last gem. When it was that the king and his bride-to-be stood before each other, holding hands and smiling through tears and laughter, the voice again spoke, and Médash saw that it was his former master-of-ceremonies, dressed splendidly all in green.
“The lord Drostérn sends his greetings, King Médash, as well as his blessing for you to wed his daughter. He sends with her a dowry that befits his daughter and expresses the esteem which he bears for you. For during the past year he spoke with his daughter at length of you, and many times did he meet with other kings and merchants who could tell of your character and goodness. Though he chose for his part not to be present this day, he promises his love for you, bearing you in his heart as though you were his son. May God bless your union, and may your greatest treasure be not your gold or jewels, but your wife unto the end of your days on earth.”
A tremendous cry went up from the people gathered in the arena, and above the roar Médash said to his beloved, “Why has your father not come? I desire much to embrace him!”
Rodhél answered with naught but a single tear, and then Médash knew her father could never be among them. He kissed her tear and held her close to him as all the place about them continued to churn and shudder in revelry.
Six days there were in which the whole of the mountain was made ready for the wedding of their king, and such were the flowers clothing the city that the lands far off in each direction could enjoy their scent if it was that the wind favored them.
On the seventh day of the week, at the sun’s height, there in the arena for all to see did Médash wed Rodhél. She drank of his wine and received a silver signet ring of her own as a pledge of all his wealth, and when it was that the priest serving at the altar that day granted him leave to lift the veil that hid her face from his sight, the King of Gold beheld at last the greatest treasure in all the world.
TÉ YENT
I hope that everyone enjoyed this story; it ended up taking longer to tell than I thought originally!
