One Hour in a Journey

It was 11 years ago today, on Sunday, August 23, 2009, at 11 AM, when I attended Mass for the first time at St. Teresa of Avila (Roman) Catholic Student Center.  The day before, I had moved to Valparaiso University to begin my time as a student there.  Attending Mass for the first time at St. Teresa's totally transformed my understanding of faith, and stoked in me a high level of renewed fervor and zeal for faith.

It's a commonly held notion that many youths go to college and lose their faith.  Thinking back 11 years ago, of all the things that daunted me about transitioning to college, I never had any concern about losing my faith.  I think I had a strong enough faith where I knew I would continue practicing it.  Yet aware of how that is a realistic possibility, I reflect today on what kept me in the path of actively practicing faith.

Valparaiso University is a Lutheran school, with Christian-based values that resonate with me.  I felt like it would be an environment that would keep faith at the forefront for me.  I knew it had a Chapel that figured centrally on campus, both geographically and culturally speaking, and I was drawn to the idea of attending Chapel services on a regular basis while there.  Upon starting there, I recognized the university is a heterogeneous mix of people from different denominations and religions, and I noticed some areas of campus had little connection to anything about faith.  And that's probably what contributed to St. Teresa's having such a vibrant community, especially considering that after Lutherans, Roman Catholics are the largest religious group in the ValpU student body.  Like President Heckler once remarked, if the community has strong faith, they are to put it in dialogue with others, which allowed for religious pluralism on campus, including the vibrant community of St. Teresa's.

What immediately left a lasting impression attending my first Mass at St. Teresa's was how the community was filled with people who had abundant faith and loved God by showing support to students like me.  And I sense that's what kept me involved all four years, namely that I found a sense of belonging through connecting with people in the community, both fellow students and people from the wider community in Valparaiso and beyond.  I recall once when my parents came to visit and we attended Mass that I was introducing them right and left to so many people I knew at St. Teresa's.  Furthermore, I was able to develop deep relationships with my Roman Catholic peers, which is something that never really happened before in my life on such a level.

The other important aspect of my St. Teresa's experience was how I learned so much more about Roman Catholicism.  Since there's so much out there to learn, it's important to keep learning all throughout life--and the principle of lifelong learning is something I've embraced as a librarian professional.  Besides learning more about doctrine and practice, I also spent time in deep self-reflection, especially during retreats.

Upon my graduation from ValpU, I celebrated not only earning my degree, but a renewed sense of living meaningfully, with deep purpose.  I came to see how living life intentionally striving in faith is so enriching.  I also came to understand my purpose through the idea of vocation, how each of us is called to glorify God by a certain lifestyle, doing what is specially suited for us.

I've grown in my awareness of this in the years since graduating, especially in the process of discerning the decision to attend graduate school.

I encountered a great insight about calling in a somewhat unusual source, The Opposite of Woe: My Life in Beer and Politics, the memoir of former Colorado Governor John Hickenlooper.  While there were parts of the book that were rather raunchy, I was intrigued by the twists and turns of his path that led from his time studying English in college to work at an oil company to politics.  In the chapter of the book when he considers the decision to run for Colorado governor, he recalls a conversation with someone who had a background in faith-based ministry, who asked him, "Are you called?"  Mr. Hickenlooper remarks that being called is not so much that one makes a choice, but rather feels she/he has no choice but to do something.  That resonates me with deeply as I think about my calling to teach Religious Education.  It was confirmed explicitly by a parent when I was in conversation with her, and has been affirmed more implicitly through conversations with other parents, not to mention the certainty I feel about what I sense inside me.

And that's probably what caused something to stir deep within me a year ago this month, when I watched Moana for the first time.  I was immediately captivated by the story, because it spoke to me powerfully by shedding light on vocation and purpose.  While Moana is encouraged to focus on what's happening on her island, she senses something calling her that was much broader than what was on the island and much deeper.  Her calling compels her to embark on a journey, much like her ancestors, who, as sung in the movie, journeyed through the oceans, reading the signs, and recalling their ancestors to know who they are as people on a journey, even as they constantly would seek new islands as home.  My intuition was confirmed when a friend at church told me about how a God in All Things podcast connected Moana and vocational discernment.

As I make a point to emphasize to my students, faith is about a journey.  We certainly have an end goal, yet the journey is also important, because it shapes us and so much happens while we're on the way, particularly in those critical Kairos moments.

Today, I celebrate an hourlong period 11 years ago that had an extraordinary impact on my life.  And the reason I celebrate is because of what led to that hour, and what has happened since that hour.  The decision I made to attend Mass that day was the result of several factors converging.  The impact of going to Mass that day persisted through continual involvement at St. Teresa's.  And many were impacted because of how I was shaped by St. Teresa's, like those I served in the vicinity of St. Augustine Mission during a week in March 2013, and then all of my 178 RE students over the course of 7 years of teaching.  

Indeed, Sunday, August 23, 2009, is just one of many reasons why I've had such an incredible journey of faith so far, and as I am confident of marvels to come.

100 Years of Impact: Pope St. John Paul II

The world was destined to undergo major change 100 years ago today when Karol Wojtyla was born in Wadowice, Poland.

And the impact he had on the world really took off when he became Pope John Paul II on October 16, 1978.

His influence became even more special since April 27, 2014, when he was canonized Pope St. John Paul II.

I grew up hearing about him in various ways, certainly every time I went to Mass and the priest invoked his name in the Eucharistic prayer.

The first story I remember hearing about him was when I was in Religious Education in elementary school:  I was reading some type of resource and it shared a brief article about how he almost died from an assassination attempt, and later went to prison to extend forgiveness to his would-be assassin.  That was a pretty radical demonstration of Christian faith.

I learned more about him when he celebrated his 25th Jubilee as Pope on October 16, 2003.  I was in middle school at the time, and I was growing in awareness of and appreciation of my Roman Catholic identity, and learning more about what he did in his life and papacy certainly fed into that sense of identity.  Something similar happened a year and a half later when he reached the end of his life as I watched the rituals unfold to honor his life.  In the coming months, multiple biographical films were released.

From all this, I became aware of the immense impact he had on the world.

Certainly his formative years poised him for this.  Both of his parents had passed away by the time he was a young adult.  He endured the oppressions of first the Nazi regime, and then the communist regime in Poland.  He managed to study in secret for the priesthood when the Nazis forbade it.  (In another example of how he embraced faith radically, in a scene in a movie I watched on his life, he powerfully acknowledged the humanity of a Nazi guard when his friend seriously injured the guard in an effort to avoid arrest.)  In times of great difficulty, he built up the resilience that would allow him to have such a major effect influence on the world.

He took some stands against the communist regime as he rose through the ranks from priest to bishop to archbishop to Cardinal.

Then, as Pope, he helped launch a significant nonviolent movement that ended communism in Europe.  There was a lot of power on display when he came back to Poland, and at Mass, the crowd chanted, "We want God!"

He also traveled around the world to meet with people, even reaching out to non-Roman Catholics.  I've heard many stories from people about how they saw him during his visit to the United States in 1979, including my parents, who saw him pass by while he traveled along Milwaukee Avenue in Chicago.

He truly became so beloved, and people were deeply moved as they watched him endure deteriorating health as he reached the end of his life, and mourned deeply when he passed.  It's incredible to think of how Rome was packed with people who came for his funeral, and the line to view his body ended up having a 24 hour-long wait, and could be seen from space satellites.  And the masses recognized the great holiness he exhibited, chanting "Subito Sancto" at his funeral, urging that he be immediately canonized.

The world continues to feel his influence.  I know that full well from attending World Youth Day in Panama in January 2019.  He was committed to empowering young people to embrace their faith and put it into action.  His presence certainly looms large at World Youth Day events, which he started in the 1980s.  Both Popes Benedict and Francis have done so well in carrying on the intentions of Popeo St. John Paul II at World Youth Day.  I feel the event also speaks to the entire generation of Roman Catholics who grew up during his papacy, so that when it reached its end, there was a sense of how much he influenced young people given that anyone under the age of 27, like me, would have known no other pope in their lifetimes.

Something else on which rests his mark that I've learned more about in recent years is Theology of the Body.  The more I learn about it, the more I am floored by its empowering message of embracing who we are as a great gift by which we glorify God, and how we make God's presence known in special and specific ways through our God-given gender.

I also think back upon the day in RE class a little more than a year ago when one of the Mundelein seminarian students assisting at our parish, John Washington, came to speak to 8th graders.  He described that he grew up Protestant in the Southeast US, and reading Witness to Hope, the biography of John Paul II, lead to his conversion to Roman Catholicism, and then sensing his call to the priesthood.

A couple of months later, in May 2019, my Mom and I took a trip to Washington, D.C.  While planning for it, I found out about the National Shrine of St. John Paul II.  I desired to visit this shrine, which was especially fitting since we went there the day after his 99-year birthday.  During our short visit, we were there for the Divine Mercy Chaplet prayer at 3 PM, and then lingered for a time during Eucharistic adoration.  Last year, I came to really embrace the Divine Mercy Chaplet prayer, and Pope St. John Paul II was instrumental in establishing Divine Mercy Sunday and canonizing St. Sister Faustina, so we would have a regular opportunity to meditate on the mercy flowing forth from the heart of Jesus.  As part of my Lenten observance, I prayed the Divine Mercy Chaplet every day of Lent, and then continued it through the Divine Mercy Novena, which I thought was a fitting way to look ahead to the centennial of his birth.

Also during my visit, I went to visit the chapel that has a vial of his blood.  And I carry with me some mementos from that visit:  Since the Knights of Columbus furnished funds for the shrine, there is a special guest register at the welcome desk there that I signed as a Knight, and then I got some thank-you gifts, including a card holder that is still on the back of my smartphone device.  (Please go to the link for Washington, DC, trip to see photos from the shrine, by scrolling down a bit.)

As we mark the centennial of his birth today, I acknowledge that the impact he had on the Roman Catholic Church and the world itself will persist for a long time.  And I can say that I witnessed part of the impact he had in my own lifetime.  I look forward to learning more about him and his legacy, especially reading Witness to Hope, as well as his writings, like Divine Mercy and Theology of the Body.

Surely he was able to make such a difference in the world because he was grounded in unshakable faith, staked upon the reality of the Paschal Mystery, the death and Resurrection of Christ.  That is why is so well-known for the statement, "Be not afraid!"

His life offers us a great example of facing any challenges that come our way, powerfully aware of God's abiding presence with us in faith.

Happy Birthday Pope St. John Paul II!

Intercede for us, so we may go forth unafraid to live out our call to holiness.

The Paschal Mystery in 2020

Central to the life of the Church is the Mass, referred to as "the source and the summit of the Christian life".  At Mass, when we celebrate the Eucharist, we enter into the Paschal Mystery of Christ's death and Resurrection, the events that brought us our salvation.  Through our participation in the Eucharist, we draw closer to that mystery, just as we do during the Paschal Triduum, a momentous time of the Church year indeed.  All the other days in the calendar point to this short window of time that gives meaning to the calendar, and to all of our lives for those of us who live by faith.

Years from now, 2020 will be remembered larger by the enormous impact of the pandemic on the whole world.  Yet it some strange way, the alterations to our customs forced upon us by the pandemic have allowed us to experience the Paschal Mystery in a deeper way.

Certainly, the experience of Lent was intensified by how much in our lives we had to give up for the sake of the common good, particularly in preventing infection in those who are at higher risk for a more serious case of the virus, even if that meant giving up what is so good for us.

In the latter part of Lent, once suspension of public liturgies was widespread across the United States, I had attended Mass at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception (BNSIC) through its website live stream. As I considered how I would observe these sacred days in lieu of attending Triduum liturgies at my own parish, I decided to attend the liturgies live at the BNSIC.  I have visited this grand, beautiful church numerous times during visits to Washington, D.C.  I always thought it would be nice, some year, to spend the Triduum in Washington, D.C., and attend the liturgies there.  This year gave me that opportunity, although in a way I couldn't have fully imagined.

There's something so uplifting and transcendent about attending Mass there, which helps draw me into the Mass at a time when, counterintuitively, the people of the Church are unable to gather at their own churches in the customary way.  I sensed that even while watching the liturgies via a computer screen.

So at 11 AM CDT, on April 5, I tuned in for the Palm Sunday Mass of the Lord's Passion. The celebrant was Archbishop Christophe Pierre, the Apostolic Nuncio, the Pope's personal representative to the United States government and its Roman Catholic Church.  He would be present as celebrant for the liturgies throughout Holy Week.  (Monsignor Rossi, the rector of the Basilica, announced at Mass that Archbishop Pierre marked 50 years since his ordination as a priest on April 5.)

At the start of Mass on Palm Sunday, we join with the crowds in acclaiming Christ as King, for He was the One Who suffered and died for us, just as God exalted Him, as described in the 2nd reading from the Epistle of Philippians.

There was something apt about meditating on the Passion of Christ at this time of the pandemic crisis.  I realized that Christ came to Earth, not to remove suffering, but to face suffering head on, and then to succumb to it.  Like Archbishop Pierre said in his homily, Christ identifies so closely with our suffering, and stands in solidarity with us.  But Christ also exerted redemptive power over suffering, which is also an important theme during Holy Week and the Triduum.  It is that power of redemption that gives us hope in facing our sufferings in this world.

Later that week, I made one exception to my attendance at the BNSIC for Holy Week and the Triduum.  Because of my schedule on Thursday evening, I decided to attend Maundy Thursday Mass of the Lord's Supper at the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen in Baltimore, celebrated by Archbishop Lori, who I feel connected to as a Knight of Columbus, as he is the Knights' Supreme Chaplain.  In his homily, he talked about how Jesus unleashed a revolution.  But unlike the tumultuous revolutions that have occurred throughout history, His revolution was gentler, happening at an intimate meal with His Apostles, and it was of love.  Archbishop Lori indicated the words in the Gospel passage from John 13: "He loved them to the last."  Indeed, Christ's offering of Himself as the perfect sacrifice was done out of great, unfathomable love.  We continue to experience that love when we gather at Church in our sacramental life.

Once Mass concluded there, I hopped around to watch snippets of live streams at other churches, similar to the custom of visiting 7 churches in the night hours following Maundy Thursday Mass.  Past 11 PM, I ended up at the Holy Rosary Cathedral in Vancouver, BC, the church where I attended Mass for the first time outside the United States during a visit there three years ago.  They had a short procession to a side tabernacle following the concluding prayer, accompanied by the mystical and majestic hymn "Pange Lingua".  It was a wondrous scene to behold the Blessed Sacrament in the side tabernacle.  The camera remained fixed on the tabernacle, and it drew me into the scene much like I would pray customarily on Maundy Thursday night following Mass at the side tabernacle at my own parish.  I spent some time in quiet prayer with the live stream on.  I was so taken in by the scene, I almost wanted to stay up past midnight in prayer.

The following day, Cross Friday, I had numerous opportunities for prayer throughout the day.  At 10 AM, I joined the live stream of the Way of the Cross for Abortion Victims prayer service.  It was led by Eric Scheidler, executive director of the Pro-Life Action League at the Planned Parenthood facility in Aurora.  I was aware of this prayer service from previous years, but one thing or another prevented me from attending in Aurora or at other locations, whether it was because I was at work, or I was participating in one of many other prayer opportunities offered on Cross Friday.

So, this year, I had my chance.  Each of the numerous Stations of the Cross prayer versions helps us meditate on the Passion of Christ as it is manifested in the sufferings of the world today, as is certainly the case for the vulnerable preborn children and their parents who respond to their situation of pregnancy crisis through the death of the preborn.

At 11 AM CDT, I went to the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels in Los Angeles.  Archbishop Gomez led a prayer service for the Sacred Heart of Jesus, a national prayer service in the midst of the pandemic.  The Sacred Heart of Jesus is remembered in a special way on the Friday following the Feast of Corpus Christi, but it was apt to pray the Sacred Heart Litany on Cross Friday.  In the same spirit of what Archbishop Lori shared in his Maundy Thursday Mass homily, the Crucifixion of Christ reveals the immense depth of the love for humanity that pours forth from the heart of God, opened up by sacred wounds.

At noon, I was back in Chicago when I watched an ecumenical Stations of the Cross prayer service.  Archbishop Cupich started the time of prayer.  The Stations were done a bit differently than the customary Roman Catholic stations, but each station was based on some event in the Passion of Christ.  Those who offered the prayers at each Station included a Scripture passage, a short reflection, and then a prayer.  These people came from all walks of life in the Chicago area, and from various denominations.  Chicago's Mayor Lightfoot was at the beginning.  After seeing her on the news talk insistently about following the steps to mitigate the spread of the virus, there was something touching about seeing her offer a prayer for our afflicted society.  There were ordained clergy from other denominations, and lay people, including a Chicago police officer, a doctor, and a restaurant owner.  It was a touching scene to see how Christ comes to be present in our lives, no matter what our work or circumstances may be, for He seeks to accompany us through whatever our circumstances are.  And it was stirring to see people of various denominations come together, as we acknowledge that people all over the world are all affected in some way by this pandemic, and so it's right that we come together before our God, Who came to save all.

At 1:30, I was back at the BNSIC for the Cross Friday Liturgy of the Lord's Passion.  The small choir sang various choral meditations in the half-hour before the liturgy started.  Monsignor Rossi, the BNSIC rector, spoke in his homily about the deep anguish of the Cross that is so emblazoned on our minds that it never fades into the background.  It fixes itself firmly as the only pathway to Life.  And the Cross gives us access to God, Who is present to strengthen us in carrying whatever crosses we face in our lives.

Later, I watched Bishop Barron's homily in his celebration of the Cross Friday Liturgy in California.  He spent much of his homily helping us understand how ignominious the Cross was in the ancient Roman world.  With that understanding, we can more deeply appreciate the amazing victory that Christ won by His death and Resurrection.  Indeed, Christ overcame the brutal instrument of death, and it became the means for our salvation.  Certainly, Cross Friday helps us remember this astounding truth at the heart of our faith, lest we mute the powerful message of the Cross.

The following morning, on Holy Saturday, my annual custom is to help decorate the Ascension church sanctuary beautifully for Easter Sunday and Easter Season.  Wanting to keep up that routine in some fashion, I walked over to Church again on this Holy Saturday morning 2020.  Aptly, I saw Clem out walking, who also helps decorate the church not only on Holy Saturday, but also at other times when there's a change of liturgical seasons.  Later, I played a song on the piano that I had from a worship aide from a previous year's Holy Saturday morning prayer.  It is usually a time when we anticipate ritually proclaiming the most important event in all of human history.

Following dinner, as the sun was setting, I got myself in attire like I would have worn to my own home parish and went once again to the BNSIC.  I found a thin taper candle that is like those distributed at the Holy Saturday Easter Vigil Mass at my own parish that are lit from the Paschal Candle at the start of the vigil Mass.

Directives stated the Paschal Candle wouldn't be lit from a fire outside church.  So someone came with a candle lighter to light the Paschal Candle, and then began the vigil Mass.  The choir sang the Exultet.  It was so mystical and moving to hear the Exultet, as it is always.  The lyrics help lift me into the spirit of what this glorious feast is all about, that the fullness of God's plan to save the world culminated when Christ triumphed over death.  In His triumph, we have hope, for we are confident that God has overcome victoriously evil, sin, suffering, and even death.

During the proclamation of the reading of the Creation account in Genesis, the camera focused on imagery in a piece of artwork in the BNSIC that depicts this story, which provided some great visuals.

Then came the Alleluia acclamation.  I'm so used to hearing the voice of Ascension's music director, David Anderson, ring out a stepped Alleluia on Holy Saturday night, which is often an emotional moment.  Attending the vigil Mass at a different Church, I wasn't sure what to expect.  But then, I heard the choir ring out the stepped Alleluia, and hearing it stirred something in my soul, a joyful realization that Christ has truly risen from the dead, and His triumph truly means something for the whole world and for me.

In his homily, Archbishop Pierre reflected on various phrases in the Exultet, especially the idea of the letting the Earth be glad because Christ, by His Resurrection, has shined a great light through the gloom in the world.  He said that in this world, we are fragile, even though we sometimes have the illusion that we are masters of this world.  So we only have strength in God, Who, out of great Love for us, gave us His Son to ransom us.  Indeed, His Love is stronger than death.  Our God doesn't abandon us, and He makes all new, giving us New Life now, and for all Eternity.

Those words helped enhance the joyful tone as the great celebration continued.  And once the vigil Mass ended at the BNSIC, in a celebratory spirit, I felt the urge to walk over to Church, so, like in the morning, I could say that once again, as in years past, I had been at Ascension Parish on Holy Saturday night.  I walked around as light rain fell, waved my taper candle, and thought of all those celebratory songs that are part of the Holy Saturday Easter Vigil Mass at Ascension.

Before I went to bed, I watched pieces of the Holy Saturday Easter Vigil Mass at the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels.  While on their website earlier, I had seen a headline for a special candle lighting program.  Anyone who made a donation could have a candle lit in the Cathedral from the Paschal Candle.  As I made a donation, I offered an intention for my RE students.  At the conclusion of the Vigil Mass, those participating in the liturgy lit the candles in four different rolling carts from the Paschal Candle.  It was a poignant moment as the cantor sang the hymn "Christ be our Light", to see the light, representing the victory of Christ, spread out, and to take comfort in Christ's light in the midst of the darkness we face with this pandemic.  And like the Exultet says, the light of the Paschal Candle is not diminished as it is distributed.

The next morning, I awoke with a spirit of joy, on Sunday, April 12, though the celebration of Easter/Resurrection Sunday would be very different.  I joined my parents for a grand breakfast, including orange oatmeal pancakes.  Then, I walked over to Church on what was a rather pleasant morning--I had thought it would be a rainy, cool day.  I saw some others out walking around Church, and I greeted Father Hurlbert when he stepped out for a walk.

Mass at the BNSIC carried on that same spirit of joy and celebration from the night before, especially with the hymn, "Jesus Christ is Risen Today".  The celebrant was Archbishop Gregory, of the Archdiocese of Washington, D.C.  His homily started out discussing the importance we have in our society of keeping time, and from there, he stated that the Resurrection of Christ reset the clocks of Earth, refocusing our world and giving us a whole new lease on life.  We who God created are now re-created in the Resurrection so that we are more like God.  We shall attain fully to the New Creation at the end of time, yet even now, we live anew.

Later in the day, it rained in the afternoon.  I stepped outside and stood in the rain, getting sprinkled the natural way, similar to how we customarily get sprinkled at Mass on Easter/Resurrection Sunday, to celebrate how we have been made anew by our baptism, when we are brought to share in the Paschal Mystery.

The celebration continued as I sat down to dinner with my parents, and we enjoyed ham, among other dishes.  Then, for dessert, we enjoyed a new recipe I tried out for the first time: upside down peach cake.  It was delicious, and we all enjoyed it.

As I reflect on the Triduum 2020, I keep coming back to this idea of "gladness" from the Exultet, which has a very distinct meaning.

It's pretty obvious from following the coverage about the pandemic that there is no shortage of bad news as our entire world is afflicted, although there are some positive glimmers.

And then there are the troubles we all have to face in putting aside and altering the vast majority of those activities that are part of our lives, especially gathering for communal worship and other church functions.  It's like we're in an extended Lent.

At one point in March, when it became clear to me how prolonged our sheltering mode would last, preventing us from communal worship during Holy Week and the Triduum, the thought came into my mind that maybe we should postpone the Triduum until Church functions resume and we could gather again.

Yet as we neared Holy Week, I realized that keeping to the calendar as it is already set would do us great good.  In the midst of this heartbreaking pandemic situation, meditating on the Paschal Mystery in the Triduum observances would help us embrace what it means, and how we're living it now.

I think about how our last time at Mass was like Maundy Thursday.  Then, the day when church functions were suspended was like Cross Friday, a Crucifixion of an important part of our lives.  Now it's like we're in an extended Holy Saturday.  We're devastated by how the pandemic has altered our lives in a variety of ways, whether it be that someone has lost a loved one, suffers financially, or struggles with the inconvenience of missing out on enjoyable activities.

It's not all that unlike the first Holy Saturday.  True, Christ had told His disciples repeatedly that He would suffer, die, and rise again.  Yet His disciples were sunk deep in hopelessness and despair on that day.  They really didn't have a strong sense of what would happen next.  At the time I write this post toward the end of April 2020, no one is really sure when and how this virus will finally cease.

Even when the disciples discovered the Empty Tomb, and saw evidence of the Resurrection, they weren't filled with joy, as they continued to struggle with what it all meant.  On the evening of that first Resurrection Sunday, the disciples were locked inside a room, afraid of those who might harm them, much as we're inside our homes, afraid of what an invisible enemy might do to us.

Yet Christ passed through the locked doors, and made His very real Presence known to them, as the Risen Savior, alive forevermore.  He spoke peace to them, and they rejoiced.

And so we rejoice today, as Christ makes Himself known to us, and we recognize that He is alive always.  For nothing, not even a vicious virus, can cancel the meaning of the Triduum, and especially the Resurrection.  While death may have overpowered Him for a time, it could not hold Him, and He rose triumphantly, and now lives forever.  It is marvelous to behold how He could have power over, and redeem any wrong in the world, including death.

What's more, the Paschal Mystery is not something that just happened to Christ, while we watch from the sidelines.  We join with Christ in the Paschal Mystery, which happens to us at baptism.  This week, as I publish this post, I mark two anniversaries: April 28 is the anniversary of my baptism.  May 2 is the anniversary of my first communion.  While I didn't fully understand it at the time of these events, my sacramental experiences on these days were powerful as I entered into the Paschal Mystery.

And entering into that mystery more deeply is something we continually do day after day, as we grow in relationship with God through encounters with His living Presence as He comes alongside us, just like He did the disciples on the road to Emmaus.  Indeed, each day brings an opportunity to enter more deeply into the Paschal Mystery and to be changed for the better as a result.  I know in my own experiences of faith life, I have built upon what happened in those encounters on April 28 and May 2 many years ago.  As I encounter the Risen Christ, He transforms the moments of my life and I gain a new lease on life.  My joys are amplified when I recognize them as blessings of God, and since God is in control also in challenges, even from suffering can come blessings.

Yes, all of our lives can reflect the Paschal Mystery.  Just as we are united in His sufferings, especially in the midst of this pandemic, so we strive to share in His Resurrection.

Indeed, it will be a joyful day, much like Easter/Resurrection Sunday, when we can return to activities we did in our lives before we had to shelter, most especially when we return to communal worship at Mass, and Church functions resume.

In his homily on Resurrection Sunday, Cardinal Cupich shared his hope that we will emerge from this pandemic crisis having been transformed, and I see that as what our faith is all about.  We open ourselves to continual transformation throughout our lives, as we cooperate with God in His work of redemption.

So even now, while we await that "Resurrection moment" of when this pandemic subsides, we can be filled with gladness because of the hope we have in the reality of the Resurrection, which gives fresh meaning to everything in life, as God is at work, sustaining us in the graces we receive in the sacraments that flow forth from the Paschal Mystery.

Indeed, let all of us in the Earth be glad in the Light of our Risen Savior Jesus Christ, shining so brightly throughout the world, especially through those of us who are being transformed.

P.S. You can read my previous Triduum reflections for 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, and 2019.  The 2014 reflection has a list of my favorite moments during the Triduum liturgies.

The Fourth Day for One Decade

For a variety of reasons, my time at Valparaiso University was an extraordinary experience. Many of those reasons were apparent within the first few months, during which I saw many good choices bear great fruit.

One of the best choices I made was to be part of the St. Teresa's community, whose members really reached out and showed me God's love.  It was in that spirit that one day in November, Kathy Jackson, formerly on staff at St. Teresa's, invited me to participate in the Kairos Retreat.

I looked over the form she gave me, and it gave a rather vague description about a retreat with presentations by college students.  I was open to going on a retreat, so I signed up.  When I brought back the completed form and my payment to Kathy, she got super excited.

After classes on Friday, January 15, 2010, I packed up and headed over to St. Teresa's.  Community members volunteered to drive retreatants from Valparaiso to the Lindenwood Retreat Center in Donaldson, IN, where we would spend the weekend.

Upon arrival, Father Kevin, then the pastor at St. Teresa's, was there to greet us, which included tossing a couple of snowballs in our direction.  In the past, he had come for part of the Kairos Retreat weekend, especially for celebrating sacraments, but this time, he would spend the whole weekend with us.  I recall some remark he made about how spending the whole weekend on the Kairos Retreat was like a "birthday gift" to himself, as he had turned 50 just days before.  It meant a lot to have him care about us so much that he would be there the entire time.  (Later on in the weekend, someone read a letter from Dale Melczek, then Bishop of the Diocese of Gary, who affirmed us for participating in the retreat.)

I chatted with fellow retreatants and the student leaders as we got settled that Friday evening.  I sensed something amazing was going to happen. 

As we started, we were instructed to hand over all time pieces and mobile devices, which were to be stored in plastic bags.  The idea of Kairos is that we're on God's time, opening ourselves up to His presence, and so we, as retreatants, weren't to be keeping track of time.  I was a bit uncomfortable handing over my watch, which has great sentimental value, but I was able to speak about its meaning later on, which assuaged my concerns.

The first presentation was a good opportunity to reflect on why we came on this retreat, which we discussed in our small groups afterwards.  My group came up with the name "Tree of Life".

The second presenter shared very openly about some more serious matters in his life as part of the topic "Know Thyself", and that really set the tone for the weekend, about being open and vulnerable as we probed deep within ourselves to know ourselves and better examine our relationship with God.

This sentiment was especially true during the third talk, "Life Map", which focused on sharing the highs and lows of our life experiences.  And this continued through all the other talks given throughout the weekend.

In addition to the presentations and our small group discussions, we also had times of meditative prayer.  We attended Daily Mass on Saturday morning.  And we opened ourselves up to God's healing power during a time of reconciliation on Saturday evening.  When we returned to our group's room after reconciliation, Nathan, one of the adult leaders, bid us good night, remarking how it had been "an emotional day".  Hearing him say that struck me as how the efforts of the retreat leaders really bore fruit in making for such an intense experience.

Indeed, the Kairos Retreat was an intense experience like I had never had before.  It's part of my personality to reflect about myself, and that's what this weekend was all about, as I probed very deeply like never before.

The next day, Sunday, January 17, we had the opportunity to meet with our groups one final time to offer affirmations of one another based on the experience we shared during the weekend.  Before dismissing us to meet with our groups, Nathan said we could take a tissue box if needed.

We definitely had great bonding experiences, not just within our groups, but also with all the others present on the retreat.  Besides the times of serious reflection, we also had fun together, putting on skits, and playing games, like when Father Kevin led us in his extreme version of "Simon Says".

At the end of the weekend, we were each given a small wooden cross.  It was presented to us with the words, "Christ counts on you", and we were to respond, "And I on Him."  I was in such an intense state of mind that I actually knelt down when presented with my cross, and then I stood up and shook the hand of the person who presented my cross, who I believe was Tony, one of my small group leaders.

We also departed with other gifts, like a CD with all the songs chosen by each speaker before and after her/his presentation, and we all left with notes that we wrote to each other throughout the weekend.

It's common for people to leave a retreat feeling a spiritual "high", which may settle down after a few days.  But given the intense nature of this retreat, I left in an intensified spiritual "high" that I physically felt within me, and it lasted for days.  I remember after I returned to campus, I checked my e-mail for the first time since before leaving for the retreat, and I was reminded of all the things that were going to happen in the coming week.  Under normal circumstances, I might have felt overwhelmed, but given the intense power that was burning within me, I just couldn't bring myself to worry about it like I would usually.  Indeed, I had a powerful encounter with God on the retreat that would have a major impact.  I still felt it about a month later when I joined a reunion of our Kairos group at a celebration of Daily Mass, the day after Ash Wednesday.  DUring the homily, Father Kevin invited us to form a circle, and he opened up the floor for us to reflect on the experience, and I shared about what I had felt in those initial days afterwards and further on in the month.

Toward the end of the retreat, we were told that we had spent three days on this Kairos Retreat, and all the time of our life afterwards was the "Fourth Day".

As of today, I've spent a full decade in the "Fourth Day".  In that decade, I've come to appreciate even more what Kairos time is all about.  We sometimes refer to time in terms of the Greek word "chronos", which is a specific time of day, a certain period of time, or measurements of time like hours, days, months, and years.  The term "Kairos" refers to a sense of time in which we have critical moments, and in the sense of faith, those moments are about encounters with God.

There's no doubt that the Kairos Retreat was a weekend in which I had many Kairos moments in encountering God by more deeply pondering who I am and my relationship with Him.  And as I look back, I think that's the value I can continue to find living in this "Fourth Day", as I open myself up in chronos time to Kairos time, in having those profound encounters with God's presence, which are all around me.

Here is a "selfie" of sorts I photographed showing the Cross I received 10 years ago along with the Kairos t-shirt.