Dear 1036: Birthday Celebration Time

Dearly Beloved 1036 Clarence,

The middle of March is my birthday, and I have so many fond birthday memories of celebrating that day at my beloved home.

When I turned 23, I decided to invite my family extensions for a birthday lunch, since it was on a Sunday, and so many of them could be there.  So far as I recall, we had some kind of pasta dish.  It was a wonderful time gathered around the table in a spirit of celebration and enjoying a great meal.

The next year, we had food from Grape Leaves.  Our close family friends, the Reiters, consider it their favorite Oak Park restaurant with great comfort food.  Since they built up their business slowly but surely by word of mouth, it was only fitting that we ordered there in such a spirit.

A few years later, when I turned 28, I invited Abuela over to join my parents and me for dinner from Boston Market, since it has my favorite, turkey.  We made sure to keep an eye on Weasley, especially when he got close to the table and started eyeing the gravy.

Indeed, there has been so much good food over the years, enhanced by the spirit of celebration that we enjoyed together.

All my relations,

God's blessings,

Paul

White Smoke and the New Man in White: 10 Years Later

After a memorable first week of Spring Break at St. Augustine Mission during my final year at ValpU in March 2013, I spent the second week of break at home.

On Monday of that week, the conclave convened to elect a new pope.  I was glad that I was home, largely free of obligations so that I could follow the proceedings.  I remember how I was in 8th grade when Pope Benedict XVI was elected, and I didn't find out until hours later after the school day ended, somewhat disappointed that I had missed it.

The news reported that there would be two rounds of voting, and the smoke from the burning ballots would appear at 6 AM and 1 PM CDT.

So I followed the coverage at those times to see which color smoke would appear, even going so far as to wake up earlier to check at 6 AM.

Following the end of the WGN Midday News on Wednesday, March 13, I sat down at the computer and opened a livestream feed from the Vatican.  No smoke was present, so I switched to another tab to do something else.  When I heard some noise, I switched back to the livestream, and I saw the white smoke!

I excitedly went from the computer in the dining room to the back sunroom in our home, and turned on the TV to NBC, where I lingered for almost the next two hours while the proceedings unfolded.  I had to wait a while for the Cardinal Protodeacon, Jean-Louis Tauran, to announce the Latin formula that a new Pope had been elected and who it was.  When he announced the name, I didn't catch it, but then NBC displayed an image of Cardinal Bergoglio, the Archbishop of Buenos Aires, the first time I heard of him.

Then he appeared, as Pope Francis.  It was clear during his first remarks that he is a person of deep faith and prayer, especially in how he led prayers for Pope Emeritus Benedict.  Then, Pope Francis then humbly asked the people to pray for him as the new pope.

Pope Francis has certainly captured the world's attention because of his pastoral style of reaching out to people and seeking to assist those in need.

As I reflect back on that day 10 years ago when he was elected, it was marvelous to watch the unfolding of a new part of Church history, in accordance with customs that stretch back centuries.  Ultimately, it connects us back to Christ, Who charged St. Peter with a special leadership role in the Church, to uphold the teachings and hand them on so that we, the sheep of the flock, would encounter God and then take up the mission of making Him known.  And in each generation, we come to realize this mission anew.

Another Year of Life in Moments

While I customarily reflect on significant moments of the calendar year around New Year's Eve, the occasion of my birthday in the middle of March gives me another opportunity to do just the same.

I'm sure I could reflect at length on meaningful experiences during the past year of my life.  Many of them are associated with my travels:

Going to Death Valley National Park to experience summertime heat on July 18 was on my Big To-Do List.  Just 2 days earlier, I went to Mexico, the land of my heritage, for the first time.  And the day before that, I had a thrilling and scenic ride on the Pacific Surliner train, which paralleled the coast and came so close, providing spectacular views.

It was also thrilling to feel the high speed of riding the Acela train at over 100 mph during my family vacation in Washington, D.C., almost a year ago.  And it was enjoyable to check out the first-class experience on my way back from a quick visit to Philadelphia, where I reconnected again with Independence Hall by going on a tour.

In October, volunteering at the OPRF History Museum during Open House Chicago weekend was a great way for me to showcase how much Oak Park has meant to me, especially as I marked the 30th anniversary of moving here on November 28.  While I don't have memories of that moving day, there's no doubt it is paramount in its influence on my life.

I think the same way about the day of my baptism.  It was particularly special to celebrate that anniversary this year because on the same day was the 60th ordination anniversary of Father Pacocha, who baptized me.  I eagerly went to attend a special Mass held in honor of his special occasion on April 23.  At the reception, I thanked her for the impact he had on me, which has gone on to impact so many others, including my RE students.

Religious Education continues to be an important part of my life. Each year is a chance to do some of the same things in class, while taking up new things with a different group of students.

Customarily, I share the story of my faith journey with my students in class, and I mark the progression of the journey by noting significant days in my life.  During this year, when I shared my story, and opened the floor for questions upon finishing, one student asked me what the most significant day of my life is.  I responded by saying there are so many, but somehow, the day of my Confirmation rises to the top.  While my physical life is a great gift that I experienced specially for the first time when I was born, my Confirmation was an experience when I entered more deeply into the mystery of God, Who gave me the gift of life, and enhanced its meaning through the Abundant Life that comes through the Paschal Mystery of Christ.  The day of my Confirmation was when I made a decisive step deeper into the mystery which I realize by faith, and then transformed me to advance forward to put that gift of faith into action.  I have indeed realized the great purpose for my life through the Life that comes to me by faith.

And so I rejoice and give thanks to God.

The Week of a Lifetime, One Decade Ago

One of the most profound weeks of my life happened 10 years ago at the beginning of March 2013:  From March 2-9, I was on a mission/service trip at St. Augustine Mission in northeast Nebraska, a Roman Catholic mission that serves the people on the Winnebago and Omaha Reservations in that part of the state.

I had seen numerous mission trip opportunities growing up, but I passed on them, since they didn't seem like quite the opportunity for me.  When St. Teresa's in Valparaiso formed a sister parish relationship with St. Augustine, and then offered this mission/service trip there, I jumped at the opportunity.

Throughout the week, we did a variety of tasks, like assembling shelving units for a food pantry, sorting clothing donations, cleaning church floors, and even demolition work.  The week also had ample opportunities to immerse ourselves in the culture of the Omaha and Winnebago peoples, starting from Sunday Mass, the day after our arrival.  It was March 3, the Feast of St. Mother Katharine Drexel, who used her enormous inheritance money to start missions to serve Native Americand and African-Americans, including St. Augustine.  Mass that day included elements of indigenous culture, like incense and songs in the indigenous languages.

While I knew about Native Americans and their plight in the course of US history from school, this trip was the chance to get to know them in a much more holistic way.  We really put ourselves into their world, and saw the lingering effects of a dark history, like when we went out on a tour of the reservations on Sunday, our first full day there, as Dwight showed us around.

There was one particularly heavy evening on Tuesday during our dinner when two community members joined us, Sarah and Tunny. Sarah told heartbreaking stories about how her grandmother was punished as a child at the school for using indigenous words with her friend.  Yet her grandmother found healing and forgiveness, remaining true to her Roman Catholic faith throughout her life.

The following evening, Wednesday, March 6, we immersed ourselves even more deeply in the indigenous culture by participating in the weekly Sweat Lodge ceremony held in the backyard of Nathan's house in the small town of Rosalie.  Besides experiencing the intensity of the hot, humid conditions in the hut-like structure, there was a deeply spiritual component to the ceremony that speaks to the experience of what it means to be human.  In the midst of the fiery trials of life, when we focus on prayer, acknowledging how real God is, we overcome, through His help, and are made anew.  I went into the ceremony somewhat nervous, like everyone else in the group, unsure if I could endure for the entire time.  Yet as each of the 4 rounds of the ceremony concluded, my confidence built, and when it was over, I emerged with a great sense of empowerment.  Upon exiting the sweat lodge, we each uttered the words, "All my relations", since it was similar to emerging from the womb in birth, and we were truly made anew through the purifying power of the heat and our time in prayer.  In some ways, the Sweat Lodge was the defining experience of the entire week.

Indeed, despite the mistreatment they've faced, the Native peoples have demonstrated great resilience and there's so much of their culture that is alive.  We saw great hope in how there are many working to build a better world in the reservations, not the least of which is the mission:  Decades after the school staff sought to eradicate indigenous culture, the school is helping it flourish through efforts like teaching the Ho-Chunk language.  I actually sat in on a Ho-Chunk language class on Thursday, when we all spent time in classes at the school.  We also joined the students for breakfast most days and lunch on two different days.

Indeed, relationships with the people were such a memorable part of the trip, and also the ways that we bonded with each other in our group over the course of the week while riding from one place to the next, doing our week, breaking bread, and our nightly reflections led by Lydia, our group's student leader.  And all throughout the week, we had opportunities to see God working.

At Sunday Mass, the first reading was the account of Moses's encounter with God in the burning bush at Horeb.  Father Dave pointed out that we were on holy ground, where a saint walked--and such places are few and far between in the USA.  Yet as I reflected in an account I wrote shortly after that trip, it was holy ground because of the people there working to meet the needs of those on the reservations to give them the chance to flourish in life.  Further, it was holy ground people those of us in our group devoted a week to put faith into action by serving there.

And 10 years later, that week still stirs my heart profoundly:  It inspires me to continue seeking to put faith into action wherever I am each day, through struggles and joys, while living more closely configured to God's purpose for my life, as I draw upon encounters with God from the past, which is why I still feel connected with those we interacted with in northeast Nebraska, and those in my group I served with there.

All my relations.

Thanks and praise to God.