Man's Best Friend

About 4 months ago my younger brother called me with some bad news. His beloved friend and companion, Sir Reginald Fieldhouse, had been diagnosed with lymphoma, and he had two to three months to live. Today, on February 17, 2014, Reggie was laid to rest. Dog's a such fine creatures. They truly are man's best friend. And no dog I've ever known has exemplified that quite like Reggie. As I know his passing has been hard on my brother and his girlfriend, I've been praying much for them today, and reflecting on the life of such a loyal dog. And I'm amazed at how much they are able to teach us. And so here is what Reggie has truly helped me learn about myself, especially my faith life.

Reggie was a rescue dog. He was a dog at a shelter that some people snub their noses at because they cannot be as loveable as some purebred or pup. And yet my brother chose him and took him home and loved him. I am Reggie. I'm the rescue dog that has screwed up. I'm a little dirty and rough around the edges. And yet God has picked me. Our eyes met and He got really excited and said 'that one.' And took me home and put a little extra love in me and showed me that I am worthy of love. Some people would snub their noses at who I am, but God sees me in my mess and He loves me in spite of it all.

There was never a dog so friendly and loyal as Reggie. Whenever my brother would have to leave him at our parents' - he got Reggie while still in college and there were some rules about dogs living where he was - Reggie would always sit and wait by the door an extra long time. Sometimes, he was just going  out to get the mail, sometimes he was leaving for a few weeks. Waiting. Just waiting and hoping that my brother would walk back in it. During these times he might cozy up to another, typically anyone else who was home, but always returning to my brother the moment he walked into the door. There are times when we feel abandoned. Like God has walked out of the house and left us there. And sometimes if we just sit and wait He will walk right back in and we will be comforted again. Sometimes we'll have to wait awhile. But He is always walking back through that door. Always.

No matter who walked into the house or my brother's apartment, Reggie was there to offer a quick hello. Obviously if it was my brother, nothing could contain his joy. Jumping and wagging his bottom (he didn't really have much of a tail so his whole butt wagged) at seeing his master. If it wasn't my brother, he was still so excited to see them. He would say hello, give a little sniff and then run back to his master and sit right by him, as if claiming him. We always need to be just as quick to offer a warm greeting. Say hello and then go and sit at the Master's feet. Claiming God as our own and leading others to the Master of our house. And yet, when Reggie would travel to my brother, when he entered my brother's home, he would run right to his master excitedly. Oh that we would do the same when we enter a church. Running straight to God with gusto.

Finally, Reggie was rarely apart from my brother whenever he was around. If Reggie was in the same house as my brother, he would follow my brother everywhere. To the couch. The refrigerator. To bed. For walks. Where my brother was, Reggie was not far behind. Were it that we kept God so close in our lives. That wherever our Lord was, there we were. For some of us, that means merely stepping into a church to say hello. For some of us, God is calling us to walk among the poor, the broken, the hopeless. After all, you never know where you may find a rescue dog.

While, I'm sad to hear news of his passing, Reginald Fieldhouse was a hell of a dog, and I will have many fond memories of the little pup. So if you're keeping me in your prayers, remember my brother and his girlfriend as well when you read this. It's never easy to let go of a friend, especially not one as loyal.  And know of my prayers for you. Whether you're a purebred, brought home as a pup, a pound dog or a rescue pup, know that you are loved.

God bless.

Winter Winds

So I arrived back at the Hill early this morning at about 12:30a. I have just spent the past week in a small and absolutely gorgeous retreat center in West Virginia. The first philosophy class was there, along with the second philosophy class, on a preached retreat. As part of the retreat, the original plan was to go to the March for Life. Unfortunately, due to some weather, about 10 inches of snow, we elected to play it safe.

I could write and tell you about how awesome my retreat was. How the President-Rector of our humble, seminary preached to us first philosophers about the promises we will be making in five or six years during our deaconate and priestly ordinations. I could tell you about the slight disappointment of not going to the March for Life. I could tell you about the joy of running with two of my seminarian brothers in the slightly mountainous region of West Virginia. Or the beauty of the retreat center. I could tell you about the laughs and games and just all around good times that were had. I could tell you how on the way back I got to stop by Heinz Field in Pittsburgh and Steubenville and Columbus and see some good friends and enjoy car trips that were way too long.

I'm going to go ahead and ignore all of that though and elect to talk about something else. One theme that seem to permeate throughout the lectures and one reflection I kept coming back to. Commitment and our sinfulness. Fr. Denis mentioned, especially in his earlier talks, about us being a society that is becoming increasing more and more individualistic. How it's all about us and what we want to do. And we can be anything we want to be. Because of it, we feel like we need to keep our options open. Heaven forbid we commit to something and then we find out we're wrong. We see this so much today. People unable to stay with jobs. People unable to commit to a relationship. The divorce rate skyrocketing. Single parents as one bails because they don't want the commitment but needed to have sex. Seminaries and convents with low numbers and high turn over. We struggle to give up our freedom in our life. Or, rather, we struggle to give up the lie we convinced ourselves is freedom. In order to be free we believe we have to be able to do anything at anytime. If that's freedom, you can keep it. I'm working in myself to be able to know that true freedom sometimes means giving up freedom. True freedom is sacrifice. True freedom is commitment. When we are able to commit to something, whether it be a relationship, a marriage, a job, a vocation or what to have for dinner, we're able to find a much greater freedom. Not one in which we can do whatever we want, but one in which we can work to make ourselves the best versions of ourselves. We are more free to works towards a specific goal. Where we are able to make mistakes, but, of virtue of never being alone in our commitments, will be supported by those around us.

I think the biggest problem of committing to anything is our sinful nature. I don't often feel like I have deep profound moments with God or very beautiful prayers, but I know that He gave me possibly the most beautiful prayer I've ever prayed this past week. During one of the times we had Adoration available, I took the time to go and spend time with the Risen Lord. I realized as a knelt there that I, as a sinner, had absolutely no right to be in the chapel in front of Christ. And yet, how blessed are we, that He should call us worthy to be in His presence. We're all sinners. We all screw up. We all make mistakes. We all turn our backs to the God who loved us so much that He gave Himself as a pure and holy sacrifice that we might have life abundantly. And yet it is in that mess that He finds us and pulls us out and then does the most miraculous thing of all. He loves us. And He uses that mess that he found us in to make us better and teach the world about Him. It is in our sin, in our past, in our mistakes that God truly is able to touch the lives of people. If only we would commit to Him. To His love. Then, though that past may still be a cross to carry, we are not carrying it alone. And just as Christ's cross was used to lead a world to Love, so Christ can use our cross to do the same. If only we would let Him.

Know of my prayers for you all. And pray for me, as I need them. God bless.

Love in the time of Small Pox

Today I got to partake in a wonderful experience. I got to sit down and think hard about some complicated issues. I got to read up on an awesome former Pope of the Church. And I got to chill a lot. Thank God for Saturdays. But as part of my goals for the New Year, I want to write more.  So here I sit at 11:34pm Central time (12:34a EST) writing about life back at the seminary.

It's been a little more than a week since I got back to the Hill and so far so good. I have to admit, there has been a little bit of envy as during this J Term, which is essentially a shorter class condensed into two weeks, first philosophy has had a lot of reading and work to do, and the rest of the guys here seem to have it pretty easy. But the reading is all about Church fathers, doctors and mystics, so it's pretty interesting stuff to read. A classmate and I will give a presentation at the end of the week about Pope Paul VI.  For those of you who don't know much about Paul, I jokingly with my classmate called him the hipster pope today. He was talking about everything the Church has been saying before it was cool. Aside from bringing the close of the Second Vatican Council, he was the author of Humanae Vitae which many faithful Catholic now call prophetic in its ability to predict when the use of contraceptives has brought our society. He was the first pope to really push for ecumenism, or reaching out to build bridges with other faiths, he spoke about the need of universal health care and the dignity of the human person, and petitioned world leaders to end war. He was a pretty legit guy and it's interesting to go back and trace the steps he began and how they have come to fruition very much in our current Pope, Francis.

I got the chance to experience a short pilgrimage today. A short walk (though made more difficult by large hills) from the Holy Hill of the Archabbey of St. Meinrad, is the small church of Monte Cassino.  In 1871, there was a smallpox outbreak in the area of Southern Indiana. The outbreak began around Christmas, and so on January 5th, students and monks from St. Meinrad pilgrimaged to Monte Cassino for a Mass and began a novena. On the final day of the novena (nine days later) they made the pilgrimage again, praying a rosary on their journey. From that moment forward, not a single case of smallpox was discovered. Every year since, the seminary has made the pilgrimage in thanksgiving for the graces and healing received. It was really beautiful today to make that trip with a lot of brothers, praying a rosary as we went. To become a part of history, yes, but most importantly to give thanks to God for all the good things He has done for us and for this community.

The one think I'm noticing more and more, with myself especially, is we tend to get wrapped up in ourselves. In our opinions. In our idea of what's right and what's wrong. We got about acting like we have it all figured out and are this great source of knowing.  And the most important part of this, I believe, is being able to be open and listen others. To place ourselves outside ourselves for a moment and just love our neighbor. And, yes, sometimes that means telling our neighbor they are wrong when they are definitely wrong. Just as we are wrong about a lot of things, so are other people. But it also has to be done in such a way that they don't feel like we are attacking them. Christ said "Go forth and sin no more." He didn't focus on the sin, but he acknowledged it. And He called us to better.

So pray for me. I need them because I am a sinner. And I'll pray for you. That you, like me, may gain a better understanding of God's will in our own lives and in this world. And that we can stop focusing so much on all that is wrong and work on loving.

God bless.