Franciscan at Home

I walked along the forbidden streets of one of Philadelphia’s most crime-ridden neighborhoods while being greeted respectfully by neighbors. They knew I lived at the church and, despite countless warnings about the safety of this community, I encountered only joyful faces. One of the first conversations I had as I walked from the El station to the church rectory, where I lived with other young adults, was with a seven-year-old girl, who asked me: “Is God a father and Mary a mother?”

Yes, Mary is a mother, and she is the mother of all of us; she is Comforter of the Afflicted and Refuge for Sinners. She is Mother of Divine Grace and Mother Most Pure. Her mission as Mother continues in the world today, through the Church.[1] This is why we turn to the Church in time of need—we bring our spiritual, material, social, and emotional needs to the Church.

“The church has always been here,” another man explained to me, “but the doors were always locked. No one was there.” It was as if our neighbors intrinsically knew that this grandiose, beautiful building that stretched up to the heavens was meant to be their saving grace; that they should be able to look to the church in time of need and find comfort (Is 66:13); that they should be able to knock and have the door open unto them (Mt 7:7).

Grace-Filled Broken Hearts

This past fall, my middle school students and I (along with the whole school and parish) experienced a heart-wrenching situation. Our pastor was removed from our parish and stripped of his priestly duties due to the revelation of sexual improprieties he had engaged in early in his priestly ministry. I will speak with as much charity as I can muster. 

Read how a heart-wrenching experience "became a profound moment of grace, marked by a supernatural dose of mercy and love!"

I’ve had the pleasure of being a certified teacher for twenty years now. I started my teaching career in a public school, and have spent the last five years teaching middle school students at a Catholic school outside of Phoenix, Arizona. Most teachers will agree that the greatest reward of teaching comes from watching students grow academically and socially. In a Catholic school we have an added bonus and responsibility, which is to help guide students as they form their spiritual life.

Our youth face the difficult task of navigating a social and public landscape that is often in opposition to the teachings of the Church. Being a catechist has become increasingly difficult with each passing year. Our children are bombarded with messages online, on television, and with their peers. Too often, these messages run counter to the Gospel. This is why it is more important than ever to teach the truth and to give young people the tools they will need to defend the faith. The best way to do this is to live the truth and teachings of the Church in our own lives.

The love we have for Our Lord should pour out of our hearts and be visible for all to see through not only our actions but our words. The old adage, “Don’t just talk the talk, walk the walk” comes to mind when I think about being an example for young people. Children need to see us at Mass and receiving the sacraments. Just recently, my students attended a retreat at which the Sacrament of Reconciliation was offered by several priests. There was a lull in the participation where children were looking to see who would go up next. I decided it would be a good idea to hop up and head into the confessional to demonstrate that I am a sinner in need of the Sacrament of Reconciliation just as much as they are. The kids looked a bit surprised, but I noticed when I got back to my pew to pray some of my reluctant students went up to receive Confession.

Here are the three things I love most about being a Catholic School Teacher:

Movement of the Holy Spirit

Have you ever had the experience of walking into your classroom and, after careful observance, prayerfully deciding to pivot away from your planned lesson? This happened to me a few years ago. I had prepared diligently for a lesson on the Sacrament of the Eucharist. I was ready to use my short time with the students to teach them about the Real Presence and the wonderful effects of receiving the Blessed Sacrament. Yet, when I entered the room, I saw looks in their eyes and in their body language a reality that would test even the mightiest of teachers: the crippling look of pervasive boredom. I thought to myself, “This is going to be impossible to arouse interest and captivate them enough to get my points across.” Then, God spoke a simple word to me. It was not a thunderous theophany, nor was it coupled with signs and wonders. Instead, God simply said: “Adoration.” I tried to reason, “But Lord, I have not even spoken a single word to these young people on the topic of the Eucharist. Adoration will just confuse them.” I continued with my excuses, “It will take valuable class time to transition to the perpetual Adoration chapel and back.” Yet, I could not escape this word that God had placed in my heart: Adoration.

I looked around after opening my class with prayer and announcements. The body language of the students had not improved. In fact, it seemed to have worsened by spreading to others (poor body language seems to be contagious and festers once introduced to the class). I smiled and told the class: “We are going to see Jesus today.” After a very brief explanation on the Adoration chapel and the reality contained therein, we departed. I was apprehensive in what I had just begun. Would we cause a noisy scene? Would they show the respect and maturity that I demanded? Did I just waste 30 minutes after accounting for the time to get to the chapel and back? Am I going to confuse them? Despite my misgivings, the Lord was at work in our class. After entering the chapel, the students all fell to their knees in silence—some praying, some observing—as we all took in the experience of being in the presence of Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament. After seeing this transformation in the students, I gave them more time before returning to class. I think some would have stayed the whole class if I had let them!

Few people impact us on such a deep level that it changes our life journey. For me, that influence happened in 1994. In August of that year, Barbara Morgan began the catechetics program at Franciscan University of Steubenville. I had the great blessing of being there when it started. She became a spiritual mother to me and infused in me a deep sense of purpose. In this article, I would like to share a few ways in which she did that with me.

The First Class

Barbara’s significance in my life was unparalleled, and I knew it would be profound as soon as I encountered her. At that first class, in the course entitled “Content and Curriculum,” I sat in the front, which is usually not the case for me (give me the back row, please). Since I showed up to the MA program with almost six years of parish youth ministry experience, I wanted to pay attention, since this course would be geared directly to pastoral situations. Little did I know what I was in for. As much as I loved the study of theology in all its disciplines, when Barbara began to teach catechetics, I was moved at a far greater level than any subject I had studied before. Through her, God revealed my vocation and identity to me and, as a result, I could never be the same person.

After her first class, I could not contain myself. I followed her to her office and had to tell her my plans for a teen Confirmation resource. I’m sure I sounded like a babbling fool. What was happening was not about my ideas regarding Confirmation; in a real way all my grandiose plans and projects were secondary. The underlying reason I had to seek her out was because I had had an unprecedented encounter with the Lord. I was reacting with unabated joy to a calling and could not contain myself.

And that was just the first class.

Excerpts from two testimonies.

“Let the Children Come to Me” (Mt 19:14)

I have not been a catechist for a very long time; however, I was recently privileged to see how the Word of God calls to little children. The week’s lesson was entitled “The Greatest Gift of All” and the subject was the Holy Eucharist. My student is my seven-year-old son, who is as busy as all seven-year-olds are. Most of what I teach seems to go in one ear and out the other because on any given day, when asked what he learned that day, my son inevitably replies with a very charming smile, “I forget,” and immediately launches into an in-depth explanation of whatever he is building out of Legos. I was worried about presenting this lesson to my son because this was his first formal encounter with the Holy Eucharist in our catechetical lessons. I did not want to understate this truly greatest gift of all, but I was unsure if he would understand the Holy Eucharist—or even pay attention.

....

Witness to Christ

I have often wondered whether what I am teaching to my students is getting through. As a training instructor for the Secret Service it was easy enough to tell: successful practical exercises, making the correct decisions, shoot or don’t shoot, pass or fail. But, in teaching the faith, there is no surety. Even if the students pass a test, has it deepened their relationship with Christ? However, occasionally God has provided a glimpse at how, through me, he has changed lives.

 I am in my second year as a religion teacher at John Paul the Great Catholic High School—still a “rookie” according to some of my associates. I have actually been in the classroom for over 10 years, though, training new recruits for the Secret Service. The difference: the recruits always wanted to be in my class.

Last year I learned a lesson that will stay with me for the rest of my high school teaching career....

#1–Trusting God to Take the Lead

A couple years ago, I volunteered as a first-grade catechist for my parish’s religious education program. This was before I was taking any classes or working in ministry, and I often struggled with how to present material to such a young age. The program we followed wasn’t much help; the kids I taught did not seem to connect to the content at all. I modified what I could and tried to make it fun, but often I felt my efforts were inadequate.

One Sunday morning, I was teaching on the parable of the workers in the vineyard from Matthew 20:1-16. I read the parable to the students, but I got no reaction. Many students were clearly distracted. Those who were at least looking at me had blank looks on their faces. I was at a complete loss. I knew I needed to do something to get the message across, but I had no idea what to do next. I turned to God. I said a quick prayer asking for help and went with the first idea that came to mind... (testimony by Emily Ketzner)

#2–My Conversion, His Conversion

When I returned to Trinidad during the summer of 2018 for a short-term mission, I attended Mass at one of my favorite churches in Paramin called Our Lady of Guadalupe. I heard somebody calling my name from behind me, so I turned around and saw my friend and former student Chris. I was so happy to see him and looked forward to talking with him afterwards. During Mass I thanked the Holy Spirit for the work he had done in Chris’ life. We had a long talk after Mass; I was in awe seeing him still open to growing in faith and being active in the Church after so many years, despite the rough journey he shared with me.

Chris was one of the youths that I journeyed with years earlier. He was part of the Confirmation class and Youth Ministry group. I met him during our youth retreat, and he was one of those boys who would always get your attention by talking and not paying attention. I remember my patience was tested... (testimony by Jonathan Lumamba)

In December of 2009, I was hospitalized for four days in two different hospitals with a blood platelet crisis. Platelets cause your blood to clot when necessary and I didn’t have enough of them (ITP). I had been fighting 3 separate occurrences of cancer since 2003, and while the cancer was no longer present, the treatments (including two stem cell transplants) had been so brutal that I was constantly in the hospital for something.

This particular hospitalization occurred the week before Christmas and came on the heels of a deep inner darkness, a time of great difficulty both spiritually and emotionally. However strange as it might sound from the outside, I found this stint in the hospital to be a great blessing. Having spent many long periods of time in hospitals, I am at home in them. This four-day period became a sort of retreat for me where the darkness lifted and I felt renewed in body, mind, and spirit.

Just a couple days before Christmas, I was released from the University of Chicago Medical Center. My wife drove me back to our home in South Bend in the afternoon. That evening I needed to go to the drug store to get the five prescriptions that awaited me. I was feeling well enough to drive and, frankly, I wanted to experience some autonomy and independence so despite my weakened condition, I decided to go and get them myself.

While I was waiting in line, I noticed a short little Christian book on fasting which seemed like it was jumping out from the stand in the waiting area. (Yes, in Indiana you can still find Christian books in drug stores.) If books could talk, this book was shouting at me! As I browsed through it, I saw that it laid out biblical reasons for fasting and included testimonies about how fruitful the practice of fasting has been in the life of this pastor-author and his congregation. Longing desperately for more fruit in my own life, I purchased it and spent most of the night reading it. The next day, I drove to a local convent’s Eucharistic Adoration chapel and finished reading it, using the Scripture citations in the book to look up and read all the passages directly myself. As I studied them, I could feel my heart burning.

Now it’s not like I’ve never fasted. Fasting was a part of my “re-version” twenty years previous as a young college graduate. But I was a different person then, much more youthful, naïve, and prone to excessive enthusiasm. As my Christian conversion deepened and moved from a lot of emotion toward a more lasting and quiet commitment, I encountered a Catholic Church which seemed rather unenthusiastic about fasting. Except when I was around people who had gone on pilgrimages to Medjugorje, whenever the topic came up, the topic of fasting was usually met with so many warnings and calls for prudence, moderation, and caution that it seemed like fasting was something the Church actually wanted to discourage. My impression was that in the eyes of most Catholics, fasting was really something only for zealots and extremists. To even bring up the topic made people look at you funny. Well, I didn’t want to be a zealot or an extremist, so I avoided fasting altogether, except during Lent when it was “safe” or perhaps secretly for special occasions. I pursued other “safer” routes towards closeness with Christ.

This little book from the drug store rekindled some long smoldering embers. It pointed me towards the biblical basis for fasting. I was familiar with many of the biblical stories, but it was like the scales were falling off my eyes and I began to notice things that I have never noticed. During the ensuing month, I spent many hours in that convent chapel reading and praying about fasting, as I sat in the presence Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament.

Then a couple weeks later, I had a conversation with a devout Catholic doctor friend about the spiritual practice of fasting. I wanted to make sure that it would not hurt my health to fast as I had made a commitment to my wife that I would always do what the doctors recommended. (This promise was to alleviate her stress about her husband having cancer.) As anyone with medical issues should do, I asked him if I could fast. He replied that nobody had ever asked him that. He requested that I give him a little time to read and think about it, and I said, “Of course.” Then only a day or two later, he emailed me some material that actually encouraged the practice of fasting from a physiological point of view. I was surprised but excited as I really wanted to begin as soon as possible. This was the green light I needed to overcome my fear of being a zealot and a fool, a great step forward towards the practice of fasting for me.

The Treasure We Give

With the smell of Domino’s pepperoni pizza in the air and the sound of girly giggles that had not quite settled down, a group of 50 or so high school students crowded in small groups on the carpet floor of the parish center on a Sunday night, ready for another catechetical lesson in the St. Gertrude youth ministry program. As a Freshman in high school, I would carpool with friends 40 minutes across town just to be a part of this group. It wasn’t my home parish, but the faith was alive and well at St. Gertrude, and a friend invited me to come and see.

On this particular night, after tummies were filled and icebreakers were done, we sat down for the weekly teaching from our youth minister and the conversation made its way to the topic of sin. The floor was opened for questions, and I raised my hand: “I don’t understand how the original sin of Adam and Eve could be passed down to all of us. It wasn’t our sin.” The youth minister gave an explanation that I’m sure was catechetically sound and thorough, but it didn’t stick. One, then another adult leader chimed in, hoping to explain in a way that would resonate. I felt bad. I knew I was asking a difficult question, and I really didn’t want to embarrass these nice people who welcomed me every week with pizza and side hugs and gave their Sunday nights to help me grow closer to God. Worse, I didn’t want to seem uncool in front of my youth group friends and draw attention to myself. I was starting to say it wasn’t a big deal and I didn’t need any more examples, when someone else spoke up.

It was Fr. Stephen, a Dominican friar who was assigned to the youth group as our chaplain. He had a quiet, kind demeanor; so when he spoke, I listened. He told me that God created humanity perfectly, like a priceless painting. Through sin, that painting was damaged. Parts of it were marred and torn, even missing. That same human nature was passed on to each of us, and while we did not commit the original sin of Adam and Eve, we are the heirs of that broken humanity. He finished explaining that it is Christ who redeems and restores us, once and for all through his death and resurrection, and in our daily living through the sacraments and grace.

It clicked. I understood.

“Life is what happens when you are making other plans.” How often people have said this with a wry smile as they cope with an untimely interruption to their well-ordered (or not-so-ordered), scheduled events.