Faith and Prayer, Part 3

After being away at college for a while, I had settled into a routine.  St. Thomas Aquinas, which had become my “home” church, held a Mass at 7pm on Sundays.  It was a perfect time to wind down from the weekend and prepare myself for the week.  Although I had several friends who attended that service, I liked to make myself scarce ahead of time, because I liked to have the time to worship with the community while at the same time worshiping by myself.

Most of the congregation at this particular mass consisted of students, but there were other members of the Ames community represented as well.  It was here that little old ladies would start the tradition of turning to me as I was getting ready to leave and saying something like “You have such a wonderful voice!”  At first I would respond with a thank you.  Later I would respond that it was God that gave me the wonderful instrument.  Later still, I started to tell them that St. Augustine said that “To sing is to pray twice,” a phrase that I still use.

After the 7pm Mass, the staff would have “Church Chats”, where one of the priests or a lay person would lead a group of parishioners in a discussion about faith, tradition, ethics, etc.  For someone who grew up in an environment where things just “are the way they are” it was refreshing.

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The summer before my junior year, I had the great privilege of being able to travel to France and Italy with my family (my dad loves to travel and wanted to take my sister and I while we were still able to travel easily).  In Paris we went to Mass at Notre Dame, officiated on that day by a Cardinal (whose name I do not remember).  Having taken French in High School, (and of course with the conformity of the Latin Rite), I was pretty much able to follow along.  Going to Rome and the Vatican was an even more exciting experience.  Throughout Italy we had seen beautiful churches and works of art (e.g. St. Mark’s Basilica in Venice, and Michelangelo’s David in Florence) but nothing compared to St. Peter’s Basilica, or the Sistine Chapel.

 

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But the most exciting event was still to come.  By one of those “know someone who knows someone” connections we were able to get into Mass with a small group of people (about 30 or so) and Pope John Paul II.  Surprisingly to me, the Pope did not officiate the Mass, but rather was part of the congregation.  Looking back, it makes sense to me.  Afterwards, the pontiff greeted us all.  I was worried that I would be nervous and dumbstruck, but he was a very humble, warm, and witty person.  He asked us where we were from, and when we said South Dakota, he said “We don’t get too many from there.  New York, California, but not South Dakota.”  He also gave everyone a rosary.  I have never used a rosary very much, but of course I still have it and will use it on occasion.

My senior year, needing to fill out an elective for my degree, I took a New Testament class.  It was a great class to take, as the critical thinking and historical context added an extra layer of interest for me.  It was taught by Dr. Hector Avalos.  Dr. Avalos let us know early that he had a photographic memory, calling roll the first day without a class list in front of him, and subsequently calling out students that had skipped class, again without referring to any written class list.  He was very brilliant and thorough.  And he is an atheist.  This really troubled some students, and as a Christian, perhaps arguably should have troubled me, but it didn’t.  Taking this one class helped me reassess my own faith.  For a time I had to fall back on my basic articles of faith, and decided that I needed to scrub up a little more on my Christian faith.

After I graduated, I moved to Vermillion, SD to get a Master’s Degree from the University of South Dakota.  Here I was able to reconnect with some of my High School friends.  One late summer night, a few of us were sitting outside, downing some beers and smoking cigarettes (one habit I have thankfully dropped).  Perhaps inexplicably, we started talking about faith, religion, and the nature of God.  When I was walking home that night, I had an amazing experience.  Still ruminating on our discussion, I made a point to myself in my mind.  Today, I can’t even tell you what that point was (unfortunately) but I had an intense yet pleasurable surge of energy course through my body.  Not quite electrical, not quite fire, not quite ice, I don’t know how to explain it.  I do remember that it felt like it was coming from the inside out.  Prior to that time, my view of God was somewhat Deist in nature.  But here I felt as if I was being communicated with directly for the first time.  Or at least for the first time that I was able to recognize and acknowledge it.

Coming in Part 4, Back to Music and my Protestant Wife

Related articles

• Mindfulness, Meditation, Prayer, and Faith: Part 1 (reclaimingryan.com)
• Faith and Prayer, Part 2 (reclaimingryan.com)

Faith and Prayer, Part 2

By the end of my Senior year of high school, I started to contemplate whether or not I should pursue a religious vocation, namely, become a Catholic priest.  I don’t remember telling people that I was thinking about this, but apparently others either read it in me or had the same idea for me.  I remember sitting and having a chat with one of the teachers at my high school who happened to be a priest.   He asked me if it was correct that I was thinking of joining the Jesuit order.  How he know that I will never know, particularly since I am not really sure how I came to lean to that particular order in the first place.  The extent of what I knew of the Society of Jesus (more commonly called the Jesuits) was that they were well-known as educators.  Many of the famous Catholic universities are run by Jesuits.  I guess that appealed to me.  Many years later I would find out that their approach to theology and spirituality was close to mine.  Maybe that’s what drew me and that is what Fr. Greg saw in me, I don’t know.

I went off to college and mostly forgot about the priesthood.  My extracurricular time was mostly taken up by my fraternity, Kappa Sigma.  A few things did bolster my faith while I was there, however.  Right away I became a relatively active member in the parish that catered mainly to students, St. Thomas Aquainas.  STA had three amazing priests on staff, Pastor Fr. Ev Hemann, Associate Pastor Fr. John Seda, and Pastor Emeritus Monsignor James “James from Ames” Supple.  Each of these priests had unique qualities that complemented each other.  Fr. Ev was a very humble and spiritual leader.  Even though I haven’t seen him in years, he still continues to teach me.  Fr. John seemed to have a knack for connecting with the students.  Monsignor Supple had an avuncular manner, and was a font of humor and wisdom, which were often times inseparable from each other.

During my Sophomore year, our choir had the privilege of performing Mozart’s Requiem with the Warsaw Philharmonic.  Singing in what I consider a world-class venue (ISU’s C. Y. Stephens Auditorium) with a world-class symphony, what I consider to be perhaps the greatest work of Classical music–well I couldn’t help but be awed by it all.  Perhaps that was why the Rex Tremendae in particular touched me.

My Junior year I was once again feeling the pull towards a possible priestly vocation.  I got in contact via email with one of my old teachers and friends (and my confirmation sponsor, incidentally) from High School, Sr. Maribeth.  She seemed excited about the possibility and gave me a lot of advice, but the most important advice that she gave me was to pray.  And I did.  A lot.

After awhile, I was able to discern that I was not being called to the priesthood.  Perhaps inexplicably, I felt a sense of loss.  The best analogy that I was able to come up with was that it was like breaking up with a girlfriend.

But this was just the beginning of the ups and downs in my faith.

Coming in Part 3: Il Papa, doubt, a divine encounter.

Our Lady of Lemonade

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.  An oft heard proverb.  How many times do we listen to this type of advice and follow it?  How many times do we instead roll our eyes, shake our head, and go about our business sucking on those lemons?

One of the fun things about being a senior in high school is looking forward to the next chapter in your life.  “What are you going to do?” we would ask each other.  “Are you going to get a job?  Are you thinking about joining the Armed Forces?  What college do you want to go to?”  For me, the answer to the last question was always quick to roll off my tongue.  The University of Notre Dame. 

There were many things that attracted me to Notre Dame.  The academic prestige.  The history and tradition.  The Catholic identity.  Perhaps the mythos.  And yes, the football team.  How I love college football.  I have also been a wee bit curious how a school with such a francophonic name ended up having the “Fighting Irish” as its mascot.

I dutifully filled out the applications, essays, had recommendations written.  There were a handful of Bs on blemishing my report card, yet I was confident.  I had a good SAT score, lots of extracurricular activities, community service, and recognition by the National Honor Society to bolster my cause.  So, I sent my application in, and waited.  And waited.  And waited.

Letters came in from the other institutions to which I had applied.  Acceptance letters from Washington University (a good sign–Wash U is also an academically prestigious institution), Marquette University, The University of Nebraska, The University of Iowa, Iowa State University.  One denial letter so far, from Northwestern.  The letter from Notre Dame took the longest.  Although I read the news with a heavy heart, I refocused my sights elsewhere.

I ended up choosing Iowa State.  A very well-respected Land Grant Act institution.  The campus was beautiful.  I was far enough away from home to feel on my own, yet close enough if I needed to make a weekend visit.  The football team was . . . well, they had a football team.  I even thought to myself, maybe I could be like Rudy, study hard for a couple of years, and finish out my degree at Notre Dame.

In the process I fell in love with Iowa State.  I lived in a Fraternity and enjoyed the brotherhood and camaraderie.  I lived down the street from the Catholic Church, which somehow seemed tolerant with other viewpoints while still toeing the official line.  I never missed a game from our sometimes hapless football team, and yet I was always proud of our gridiron warriors.  Four years later, I proudly accepted my degree.  I would go on to get a Master’s Degree from another school, but will always consider myself an Iowa State alumnus.

Way back when, in a slim business sized envelope, Notre Dame sent me a bunch of lemons.  I packed up the lemons and took them to Iowa State where I made some delicious lemonade. 

Somewhere along the way, however, I have misplaced my lemonade recipe.  Maybe depression hid it from me.  Maybe anxiety whispered into my ear that I won’t be able to find it.  No matter.  I am looking for it again.  I will find it, and when I do, you are all invited to have a drink.

WEDNESDAY FUN: Cooking Experiment Successes

I love to cook, and I love to come up with my own creations.  For a while I had been bugging my wife to let me try to make fish tacos.  We love fish, we love tacos.  How could it go wrong?  Still, she was nervous.  Finally I just did it one day.  I grilled up some white fish filets (I think I used tilapia) which I then separated with a fork.  I mixed some taco seasoning in with sour cream and a little lime juice.  To top it off, I had a mango salsa, cheese, and a little cabbage and onions for crunch.  I’m sorry that I can’t provide a recipe, as I never write anything down, but try it some time.  Delicious.

The new face of Ken

Yesterday I saw a news item that made me smile.  Kurtis Taylor, a former defensive lineman for the Iowa State Cyclones (my alma mater), had won a competition to be the new face of Ken.  For those of you that don’t know, Barbie and Ken apparently broke up a few years ago, and it has recently been announced that they would be getting back together.  Mattel staged an online “Genuine Ken” competition.  Taylor apparently sewed up the competition during the romantic category portion.  Each contestant was given $500 to buy gifts.  Mr. Taylor gave a penny to each of the judges and donated the rest to the Make-A-Wish Foundation.  If you watch the videos, Mr. Taylor comes across as handsome, intelligent, sincere, and compassionate.

So it was to my distress that I came across the following story today.  To be honest, the story in itself was a good, short recap of the competition and description of Mr. Taylor.  But for some reason, I broke my rule of reading comments on internet sites (good, well written blogs excluded).  What I saw ranged from prejudiced to outright racist.  To add to how disturbed I was by this, many of the most outrageous comments had more “likes” than “dislikes”.

Is this what we have come to America?  Perhaps hiding behind the anonymity of the internet makes one more brazen.  Regardless, these seem to be honest sentimentes of hate none-the-less.  Even if these poor souls wouldn’t spew this crap in public, apparently it is how they feel in their heart.  I do suspect that a few were just trying to be “funny”.  They aren’t.

When I was a student at Iowa State, the students overwhelmingly voted to change the name of Cyclone Stadium to Jack Trice Stadium.  Jack Trice was Iowa State’s first African-American athlete, who died after being trampled in his first football game versus the University of Minnesota.  You can read more about Mr. Trice’s story here.  To this day, JTS is the only NCAA Division I football stadium to be named after an African-American, a fact of which Cyclone Fans are intensely proud.

Here in my home town, one of the most recently opened elementary schools was named after Rosa Parks.  Being in our district, it is in fact the school that our children will attend.  What a wonderful role model to teach our children about.

So I guess I was naive to think that regarding race we have been making forward progress in our country.  The majority of young people I meet do not harbor the same kind of thoughts as the commentors after the article.  But those very sickening comments seem to make me think that there is a silent undercurrent that could still sweep away progress, and it saddens me.  If nothing else, it has steeled my resolve to redouble my efforts to raise my children to be respectful, responsible, and compassionate citizens.

One more thing–the first time that I see a Kurtis Taylor modeled Ken doll on the shelves, I will be purchasing it for my children.

What is your reaction?