Los Angeles, Calif., Oct 15, 2009 / 03:54 am (CNA).- A South Carolina priest bested an NBA basketball star and two professional poker players, including former world champion Daniel Negreanu, to win $100,000 in a poker tournament and qualify for a competition with a $1 million grand prize.
Fr. Andrew Trapp, associate pastor of St. Michael’s Church in Garden City, played in the PokerStars.net Million Dollar Challenge held in Los Angeles, California. Among his opponents were retired NBA star John Salley, Team PokerStars.Net pro Vanessa Rousso and Negreanu, a four-time World of Series of Poker bracelet winner.
Perhaps there's still hope for an old poker dealer like me to raise money for ministries. And I thought religious life would keep me from ever getting to play in the World Series of Poker!
Last Friday was the 4th time I was at my ministry: Villa de Marillac. I admit I still feel a little wary about going each time, however getting to know the residents and staff has made the ministry visits easier.
It does require a bit of patience each time I go. Often I have to re-introduce myself and re-tell my personal story as residents will tend to forget, or even confuse me with another friar. I address myself and the other guys as “brother,” yet I can never count the times I was called “Father” during the day. Part of me wants to correct them each time, but I realize it probably won’t make much of a difference in the long run. I haven't been asked to hear a confession - so I figure "No harm, no foul."
Getting to know the residents has been a thrill. Most of the time there are activities going on when we visit. One week there was an outdoor picnic, another day there was bingo. I remember a resident rubbing the knots on my cord for good luck, then winning the next game. The theology of the moment was horrendous, but my memories of being a pit-boss brought a sense of humor to the situation.
Getting to know the nurses and staff at the residency has helped as well. Many of the nurses are friendly and eager to talk. There are others who don’t say much. I’d bet there’s a few who are bothered by our presence there. In some ways, I can understand. We are there only one day a week; we're involved in only those activities which bring smiles or laughs to the residents. We don’t have to feed the residents, help them use the restroom, attend to their every need, build relationships then be present when they die, orexperience many of the other aspects of their job. But I am willing to recognize the feelings of those people, and then tell myself that this ministry, while often with the residents, isn’t exclusive. The ability to build relationships and understand different points of view are tasks I’m trying to live; I feel that being open to staff, nurses, as well as the residents, will give me a better experience of this ministry.
While my ministry can be a test of my charism, it can also be a test of my self-discipline as well.
A few of us were asked to go out for drinks last Friday by some of the nurses. I'm sure they were merely teasing, trying to make the “celibate boys a little uncomfortable.” I doubt anything would have happened if we had accepted, and it would have been nice to interact with women again (or anyone outside of the house for that matter.)
Obviously we declined (although part of me really wanted to say "Yes"), and for many good reasons. However I think it’s important for people to recognize that we as friars are not removed from society, nor are we without a sense of fun. The ever-present danger is knowing where that line exists for me.
So I continue to visit Villa de Marillac and take away a sense of happiness afterwards. Sometimes I don’t feel like I did much, yet the residents always tell me it’s wonderful when we visit. And in spite of the misgivings I have about nursing homes and assisted living communities, I’ve gotten to be comfortable with my ministry.
I could not end this without another good story:
Two weeks ago I was talking with a woman at Villa. She wasn’t completely aware of where she was or the conversations that were going on. I remember her saying something to me I couldn’t understand, to which I simply said “yes.” The woman then went on a tirade about how I was “one of those Modernist priests,” and how I’d rather have people go out to the park than go to Mass!
This past week we talked again and had a completely different conversation. She had obviously not remembered anything from the past week, so I decided not to hold it against her. I’m still not sure what I agreed to in order to be labeled as a Modernist, but I’ll make sure not to just agree when I don’t understand now!
(I realize this post was meant for Friday, however my lack of internet access requires me to delay my posts a bit. My apologies for being a day late!)
Today was my first day at our ministry: Villa de Merillac. I’ve never been a fan of retirement homes; I’ve watched two grandparents die in assisted living spaces. However I recognize that ministry opportunities during formation are a chance to “grow and stretch oneself,” so I decided to try something that would make me feel a little uncomfortable.
Our ministry is one day a week, much different than my experience in Milwaukee at St. Ben’s. Every Friday we drive about a half hour to get to the retirement community in Pittsburgh and we are present with the community until 3PMish. Again…not feeling comfortable in those places, I drove this morning with a sense of anxiety about what I might experience upon arrival.
Most of the day was spent in orientation: understanding the schedule at the home, discussing safety procedures and patient’s rights, and also getting a thorough tour. We met the visiting pastor, originally from Tanzania, who comes every Friday to celebrate Mass for the residents.
We learned that much of our time at the home will be spent helping with different liturgical rites. Currently the rosary is recited along to a pre-recorded CD that the residents follow (I imagined it to be Martin Sheen’s voice…not sure why.) We will take over the leading of the rosary, as well as helping in different roles during the Mass. The director asked if anyone sang and/or played guitar – everyone turned their head towards me. So part of my time each Friday will be directing music and playing…something I have learned to love.
Along with these acts, they’ve started having devotionals on Fridays. There will be a Holy Hour (without the Benediction…even though I volunteered) one day, a litany to the Blessed Virgin, and a few other things. We’ve been asked for input on what we think should be included… a sign that told me that we were being incorporated into their program.
Along with these things, there was the visiting with the guests. This was the part of the ministry that might cause me to freak out. Even as we wheeled guests down to the recreation room for the singer (I’ll talk about the singer in a minute), I was grappling for something to say to people. Usually I can talk to anyone about anything…the first round of visits reminded me I wasn’t as talkative as I liked to think!
The true ice-breaker for me was the signer that came in for entertainment. We sat with the residents and watched a guy belt out tunes by Tony Bennett, Colt Porter, Dean Martin, etc. And just to round things out, he made sure to include the “Beer Barrel Polka” and the “Too Fat Polka.” The absurdity of the event was too much to stay quiet about. As we took the residents back, I joked at how I was going to sing, but we ran out of time!
By the end of the day, I felt more comfortable about being there. Parts of the ministry still will shake me up, however I felt more love than anything else having been there, and the support of my brothers (some of whom have experience in this type of ministry) kept me from crying or screaming. However I remember my reservation at working with the homeless, and how those fears were soon dissipated. I’m sure as I continue to grow in this ministry I’ll experience the same.
The only other great revelation I have for today: if I am ever required to reside in an assisted living space, please don’t take me to see someone doing covers of Rick Ross, Jodeci, or even Lady Gaga. Just buy me an iPod with plenty of music…I promise, that will be plenty to keep me entertained!
Today as I drove back from Mt. Calvary, WI I decided it was time to do what every good Catholic does after an Easter celebration:
Binge on everything you gave up for Lent!
So after taking one of the postulants to the train station, I decided to go out for some food at Taco Bell. I'd been jonesing for some fast food for weeks, and decided today I would order more food than I could possibly eat and sit in front of the TV for the rest of the day. A standard Easter for most people in the US.
Along the way through downtown Milwaukee, I saw a few guests from the St. Ben's meal walking by. I hadn't seen anyone from St. Ben's in over a week; their appearance was a quick reminder of my ministry. So rather than just honking, waving, and driving by, I decided to drive around the block and park.
I got out and spoke with John and Laura, asking how things were going. They were headed to this side of town after the continuous harrassment from the police. They couldn't understand why, on this day, the police chose to harrass them and the other homeless that resided in this part of the city. I told him that with the Easter holiday, and so many people going to the Gesu Church at Marquette University, they didn't want the poor people panhandling to the pretty-dressed people as they walked in/out of church.
Without thinking, I told them that I was going to get some lunch, and did they want to go. When talking with the homeless, inviting them somewhere means that you are also treating them. They happily accepted, and turned around to their friends who they'd been traveling with. Again without thinking, I asked if they wished to go along as well. They were a little shocked by the invite, and I had to introduce myself as the chaplain at St. Ben's before they felt comfortable.
"Vito, I'm black," John said to me, laughing. "I don't eat burritos. I eat me some chicken!" And with that, we headed out to a KFC at 12:30 in the afternoon on Easter for a Sunday brunch.
As we entered the KFC (it was one of the ones with the full sheet of bullet-proof glass between the cooking area and the dining area) it was clear that the worker was not happy about working during Easter. I tried to make the ordering as painless as possible, and I think that our joy was infectious. She started out being crabby, but eventually warmed to a Mexican and four homeless people who were sitting in her dining area...enjoying lunch and life.
Halfway during the meal, an older lady walked into the restaurant, only hoping to rest her feet. Knowing John and Laura, and knowing that they could not buy food at KFC, they told her about me. She humbly asked for something, not wanting to be imposing, and I gladly gave her my mashed potatoes and a Snacker from my order. She thanked me and with a devilish smile asked if I was married...to which everyone laughed.
Later on that day, I would stop into St. Ben's as they offered their Easter meal to the guests of Milwaukee. I had a chance to meet with many volunteers, one of them being a girl whom I'd met at a Lenten retreat where I'd given a talk. She remembered me and what I had said...something that made me feel proud.
After the St. Ben's meal, I was invited, along with the other friars of my community, to eat with some hospitable parishioners of St. Martin de Porres Church...the parish that exists next door to our friary. With a wonderful dinner and great stories, it was the perfect capstone to a wonderful Easter.
And sitting here at my desk, later at night and with time to reflect, I can see where I found God today. This Easter holiday, where we celebrate the greatness of the risen Christ, I was able to see that glory at work in my life. I could see it in the joy of being surrounded by good people. I could see it in the hospitality and caring of others. But most of all, I saw it from it's very beginning: a selfish act that, but for the grace of God, became an opportunity for me to live the Holy Spirit on the most important day of all.
Today, like the disciples, I saw Jesus again. And the joy of having seen Him today is so great, it moves me to tears.
May you all find the risen Christ in all that you do this Easter Season.
On March 24, 1980, Archbishop Oscar A. Romero was shot and killed while holding up the Eucharist before the alter in a small shrine in El Salvador. The murder, thought to be a political assassination carried out by the death squads in El Salvador, rocked not only the country but the entire world.
His ecclesiastical appointments were met with concern at first. His conservative theology stood in direct contrast to the many liberation theologian priests all over Latin America. However during his term as bishop, his friend (a Jesuit priest) was shot and killed by the roaming death squads. Outraged by his friend's death and the inhumane treatment of the people of his country, he spoke out against the murder and oppression of political violence.
And for that voice, he was silenced.
The story of Romero is both tragic and inspiring. His choice to stand in opposition to the political leadership and to violence reminds me that there are times that I need to make a stand for what I believe in.
The death of Archbishop Romero, the birthday of Cesar Chavez, the movie Che starting this weekend, and the recent visit of Luis Gutierrez from Chicago have all served to remind me that my ancestry and my culture are important parts of my vocation. While I doubt I'll be as revolutionary or as profound as the men I've just mentioned, I hope to learn something from their struggles and do more as a Latino male to be present to my culture.
Today I held a reflection for the students of Messmer High School, an inner-city high school here in the city of Milwaukee. I've hosted reflection groups for schools, confirmation classes, and other groups from around the area. However this has been the greatest group of students I've yet had here at the meal.
For most groups looking to learn more about St. Ben's Community Meal, we offer reflection sessions for people. This consists of a history and talk about the history and change of St. Benedict the Moor from its creation in 1909. People are then invited to eat (not help) with the other guests at the meal. After waiting in line, getting a meal, and interacting with the other guests at the meal, a reflection is done about their experience that's directed by either me or Br. Dave. For many groups, this is a jarring and eye-opening experience; often times groups have never had any type of interaction with the homeless.
For whatever reason, be it sociological, cultural, or whatever, the students from Messmer thrived and openly engaged with the guests at the meal. While recognizing the plight of the guest's situations, they also recognized their own personal privileges and realized that they had much to learn from the people who were eating at the Community Meal. Rather than try and force kids to talk about an experience that they couldn't yet understand, they gratefully participated in the reflection, and wanted to continue and interact with people down in the meal hall after we were done.
I have another talk with students this weekend, a group that will be fasting for 36 hours for Lent. While I have no idea what kind of reaction I can expect from them, I have found the "goal" of my talks: that they may be as energized to be involved and to be present with the poor community as the class from Messmer I had today.
One of the greatest things about being here as a friar is finding my love of music again. When people find out I play guitar I'm often asked to "play something" at a mass or prayer service. It feels good using a skill that I love for the benefit of worship. And it's a skill I continue to work at.
When we got here to Milwaukee in August, we were told that we could go to whatever parish we wanted for Sunday Liturgy. They preferred that we go to a Capuchin parish, but it was not required. The focus was for us to get out and establish relationships within the city. After going to a few different masses at the start, I attended the 10:30 mass at St. Francis...a Spanish mass.
I've mentioned before that even though I'm Mexican, my Spanish is horrible. So I thought it was just a fluke that I would happen to go to a Spanish mass. However when the mass started, I saw one person playing guitar, leading the choir, singing, cantoring, and planning the music. I remember my parish back in Grand Rapids and how wonderful it was to have so many talented people participating.
At the end , I introduced myself and asked if he needed any help. Since then, I've been playing guitar for that mass. About a month later, one of the other postulants joined with his guitar.
A few times the director has been sick or had commitments that keep him from getting to that mass. In those times he's asked us to take over his job: pick out the songs, make sure they choir knows them, get the equipment set up, and play for the mass.
Liturgical Music is not just about playing songs that people know...something I learned the hard way. There are many nuances and thoughts behind the music that is chosen, the words that are used, and the tempo and feeling of the piece. Each must tie into the season, the readings, any special events or feast days, etc. And the important part isn't about sounding good. In fact, I'd say when it comes to liturgical music planning, "sounding good" comes in a distant third. The relevance to the mass is probably the second most important focus. The first: getting the church to participate in the singing of the songs during mass.
There are far more things to learn about Liturgical Music in the Catholic Church, but I know that my understanding as well as my musical abilities have both grown in these past months. While I still plan on being a priest, part of me wants to spend time working in the field of music. It's so hard to find and keep musicians in parishes these days, I feel that it would be improper for me to just waste my talent.
I bring up this topic because I was at St. Francis late this evening. We have a new person who helps out at the Spanish mass, and he's eager to learn the songs we use. The director won't be at mass Sunday, so I got together with the new guy and picked out songs for the 2nd Sunday of Lent.
In that process he stated how impressed he was with my knowledge of music and that it was very helpful to have me walk through the songs, pick out ones that were commonly used in this church, and to coordinate different aspects of the music during the liturgy. I felt rather proud of the compliment, and I realized how comfortable I'd become with not just playing in front of a crowd, but of taking control and directing what needed to be done in a respectful and encouraging manner.
So the next time you go to mass, and you enjoy the music, tell the music director you appreciate it. And if you can play any instrument, ask if you can help out in some way. Both of those things will not only brighten their day, but it will remind them that it's not just "playing music," but it is a way that serves the community during the mass.
In January, a video was made by our development office as a way to help promote vocations in our province. The concept of the video wasn't simply aimed at getting people interested in the Capuchins, rather getting people simply to ask the question: "Have you ever thought about religious life?"
This 5 minute video is part of a new push called The Vocation Project, a new way to reach out and continue to seek vocations to the Capuchin order.
One of the first things people might notice: I'm not in any of the videos. Well, you might not notice that; everything isn't always about me! The day that the camera crew came in to shoot the footage, I was in my room blogging about how sick I felt. Unfortunately I wasn't part of the footage.
Regardless of my presence, the video is wonderfully done. Enjoy.
P.S. Yes, we have an XBox 360 in the house. It was a Christmas gift to the community.
I decided, rather impulsively, to cook a turkey (with the all the fixin's) on Sunday. In a move that was more personal challenge than menu selection, I decided to cook a 25 pound turkey as a way to "stretch myself."
Just recently, the Provincial sent all the postulants a letter with regards to our mid-semester evaluation. At the end of the letter, he said: "During this next half of your postulancy period, I encourage you to continue to stretch yourselves and try new things." I've been stretched a lot since August; what more could I do!
On Friday, we received a donation of 20 turkeys to the Meal Program. While this was a wonderful act of charity, we at St. Ben's had to find room to fit all the turkeys into one of the freezers. To make room for the newer ones, I said I would take one back to the friary to make for my community. I'd never made a turkey before. I've watched my mom do it enough times at Thanksgiving; it couldn't be that hard.
After being lectured by 4 different people about how to properly thaw, prepare, and cook the bird, I was later engulfed in conversations like: "Well what are you going to serve with it?" When someone makes a turkey, most people reflect on how Thanksgiving was celebrated at their homes. By Friday night, I was expected to make the turkey with about 14 different side-dishes!
Saturday I decided on a menu: I'd serve mashed potatoes, broccoli, creamed corn (because I like it!), stuffing (a la Stove Top), cranberry sauce (because someone started crying when I said I didn't like it and I wasn't planning on serving it), and Jell-O for dessert.
The process started off Sunday around noon. It began rather simply. Grab all the guts out, get the neck bones out, prepare the plastic cooking bag, put turkey in bag, bag onto cooking sheet, and then everything into the preheated oven. I took the time to cut up the vegetables early on. I knew I wasn't able to start the broccoli or the potatoes until an hour before dinner, but I thought it would be smart to do the chopping and peeling when I still had time.
Inspiration when chopping broccoli.
As dinnertime got closer, things became more frantic. I had almost 3 gallons of water on the stove for the potatoes, and it was taking forever to come to a boil. I'd made the stuffing way early, but I had no way to keep it warm without drying it out. I put the meat thermometer into the bird about 4PM, it read 175 degrees - it takes over 4 hours to cook a 25 pound turkey at 350. I opened a Monster Energy Drink to help deal with the stress. Turns out I took the temperature wrong!
By 5:30 PM, I was in full-stress mode. As people came downstairs from evening prayer, they each thought it would be fun to walk into the kitchen and stand in my way. "So is everything going to be done on time?" someone asked. I wanted to beat him in the head with a metal spoon. As more people walked in and decided they needed to sit at the table I was working at, I started ignoring them and running around the kitchen...stirring, mashing, cutting, and basting all at the same time. Some of them got the hint and decided to leave. Others had to be told directly: "Hey. You are in my way."
A wearied pic of Fr. Bill Hugo and I as he prepares to carve the bird.
In spite of all the stress (the potatoes could have been cooked longer, they got cold because the broccoli and gravy weren't finished yet, someone decided to start adding different ingredients to my food, people continued to get in my way, and dinner started half an hour late), the dinner proved to be a rousing success. I was complimented many times on the task of cooking everything. And when they all started to dig in, I took five minutes to be alone in the kitchen , letting the stress leave my body. For as many high-pressure situations that I've been in over the years, the simple act of cooking a complete turkey dinner proved to be one of those memorable moments I will hold on to.
I sat down after everyone had a chance to get their first helping. Even I had to admit it was pretty good, and I was a little impressed with myself for being able to pull it all off.
Perhaps this wasn't the type of "get outside your comfort zone" task I'd envisioned, but it was a good learning experience. I feel I am in solidarity with those who take the time to cook those big dinners for family, and after this experience I feel I can sympathize, at least a little bit, with the amount of time, effort, stress, and coordination it takes to pull off that kind of meal. It was a very humbling task...being the servant towards my brothers.
I don't plan on making a big dinner like this again anytime soon, but I feel more confident in my ability to do it. Most importantly, I feel confident that I can cook something without getting everyone sick...something truly important when living in community. (As of 1:38 AM, no one has complained of food poisoning yet.)
I'll count this one as a success.
A completely unsolicited thumbs-up from the rest of the community and a few guests who volunteered to help us eat all the food.
Michael is one of the many volunteers at St. Ben's Community Meal. He's always there to help, and has done so for quite a long time. However Mike isn't one of the people that tries to feel better about himself by volunteering. Mike is poor himself...a paycheck away from living on the streets. He is aware of his situation, and works hard to stay above water.
Mike is a member of an ever-growing demographic in this country: the working poor. He has a full-time job, "pulls his weight" as some boot-strapping politicians might say, yet life is still a struggle for him.
Wednesday at the community meal, he showed me something he had written up, a brief description of his current life. It is very real, and I thought it something that should be shared with everyone. While his written personal reflection had no goal other than a story, I could see the plight of the working poor as I read his paper. He allowed me to post it.
His story has given me inspiration for something bigger and more profound, but I think I should be true to his story, one author to another, and keep my idea for a later time.
Enjoy.
To the working poor stress is a constant companion in their effort to support themselves. This world is one of constantly monitoring how to most effectively use what little they make.
Back in 1980 to 1986, I went to UWM (University of Wisconsin @ Milwaukee) both full time some years and part time other years. I never got a degree. I dropped out in 1986. I dropped out to learn from the school of life. Only the school of life, I finally realized, was a harsh teacher. The total number of years that encompass my years as a member of the working poor include 13 years prior to college and 19 years after, totalling 32 years in all.
I am a member of the working poor. Although I am 55 years old now, I don't look like it. (he doesn't) I do feel like 55 on the inside. I live in the Riverwest area. I've had assorted jobs and have been working at G&K Services for just over 4 and a half years now. The business is located in the New Berlin Industrial Park. It's an hour and 20 minutes bus ride one way, so having a functional car is important.
Fortunately I own a quality used car, a 1996 Honda Accord, which I financed with a loan. I also financed a nice bedroom set. I have two loans to pay off. I make $10.71 an hour. I have medical coverage which costs me approximately $65 per month out of pre-tax income. Plus I set aside 10% of my pre-tax income to put into a 401K. I have virtually no savings. How is it possible for me to survive, when the on-going costs of life: rent, utilities, phone, out-of-pocket medical expenses, car insurance, food expenses, etc. eat up most of what little income I make - nevermind the unforeseen expenses that pop up like landmines.
My approximately 18 to 20 thousand dollars per year income has even been reduced by the state economy. Instead of working 40-50 hours per week during this time of the year, which is the busy season of the year at G&K, I am only working 31 to 35 hours per week. So even though it's tough to survive at 40 hours per week at $10.71 per hour, my income has been significantly reduced even further. Plus the possibility of lay-offs loom in the near future.
I figure there is an expectation made by society that when a person becomes a member of the working poor, he or she assume the responsibility of paying my bills, whatever bills are incurred, on time despite one's level of income. I don't know if I am the puppeteer, juggling all my financial responsibilities, or if I am the puppet being buffeted by the cold, hard reality - trying to survive in a world that requires that I make a better income to somehow come out on top.
I don't want your pity. I want to help you understand what my life and others like mine are like. I believe I have raw talent and ability. I volunteer quite regularly at St. Benedict's Meal Program. I've been there 16 years now. My volunteer effort there makes use of some skills and talents my day job does not. This helps me to feel productive and worthwhile, and feeds my sense of spirituality. I continue to believe in who I am, in what talents and abilities I have, and in the hope that I can better my economic status. I hope because without hope one's quality of life slips immeasurably. I know that to have a car, a decent bedroom set, and the ability finance them, put me in a better position than others who are also working poor but make less in wages. To have the ability income-wise to afford medical insurance and a 401K also puts me a few steps ahead of those who make less in wages. That is small comfort for me. The financial realities of survival continue to intrude and have an impact on my life. I know that in a practical and realistic sense, a huge challenge is before me.
Today as we stood in the windy, rainy downtown of Milwaukee, we had our 3rd prayer vigil in front of the Homeland Security Building, which houses the Agency for Immigration and Customs Enforcement as well as a detention location for people who have been rounded up to be sent back to Mexico or whatever country of origin.
While we continue to hope for immigration reform, the concern each time is with the inhumane treatment of people. Mothers and fathers who've been torn from families, families terrorized by raids that require no solid evidence, wholesale invasions of factories where they halt workers and deport them on site.
Had you told me over a year ago that I would have given up my great job at G.T Autos so I could stand with a sign in front of the Homeland Security building singing Ubi Caritas, I simply would have laughed. Here I am again, finding myself stretched beyond my earlier comfort zone, doing what I feel is right, and doing so in the name of God.
Each day I spend here with the Caps, I learn and do new things. Slowly I am becoming a different human being...a better human being. While I've not had to do a "display of public disobedience," there's always time to improve. =)
I don't usually get nervous, but this upcoming Sunday has me freaked out. Luckily I won't be by myself, but I'm still stressed about the event. Usually going to Mass isn't such a big deal; being on center stage can change a lot of that.
I've given several talks at parishes about homelessness, hunger, and poverty in the Milwaukee area, and those were rather easy. This Sunday I will be playing the music for Mass without the Music Director. This entails about 4 different hymns, the Mass Setting of Music, and the best part: it's all in Spanish. (no hablo espanol ><)
This entails knowing and making sure all equipment is set up before Mass, checking levels, attendance of the choir (missing a few sopranos makes things interesting), coordinating with everyone so they all know which hymns are being done, and of course the act of playing guitar and singing. My guitar playing is OK, but my singing is nothing to be proud of.
Luckily I won't have this task to myself. One of the other Postulants also plays guitar at this same Mass, and the Director has left it to us to lead the music for this Sunday's Mass. Now this is a Capuchin parish; the fact that we are there participating as Postulants is something the friars tell the parishioners each week. I know that even if we completely screw things up, no one will take offense or even say a mean thing about it. The standard response will be: "Oh, how wonderful it is that they're doing something so important!"
But for both the other Postulant and I, we see music as a huge part of our vocation. While scary and daunting, this is a chance for us to get actual experience about what it takes to perform the job of a Liturgical Music Director. Granted we're just a fill-in while the Director is away, but people get Master's degrees for this kind of work, and having the training already will be beneficial in the long run.
Also, I know deep in my heart that this will be one of those experiences where I will treasure forever...even if we completely mess up. To be able to talk about leading a Mass as a Postulant is a great story to tell when I'm old and crusty. So while I'm excited, I know I want to do everything I can to make this Sunday go without a hitch.
So say a prayer for me, God knows I can use em for this weekend!
I did something today that really made me proud of my growth: I said no.
I got an email about 3 this afternoon. It was a request to go to a speaking engagement at one of the local shelters and give a brief presentation about poverty in Milwaukee. It was a very very late notice for a speaking event, and he said I would be doing him a huge favor if it were possible.
Now I have a bad habit with my ministry: I like to say yes a lot. I figure I'm here to do the Lord's work, I might as do as much of it as I can. I used to live the life of a crazy, workaholic car salesman. What I'm doing now is just the same stress level. So why not keep accepting task after task?
What happens to me now, just like before, is that I can burn out. And when I burn out, I am done for about two weeks. Without rest, I become listless, bored, and resentful of my job. The last thing in the world I want is to become annoyed with my ministry here in Milwaukee. I gain too much from what I do, I don't want it to be a drain in my life.
So today I used the "Sacred No" as was told to my by my spiritual director. Sometimes you have to say no, just because it's what's best for you spiritually, mentally, and physically. I still feel guilty when I do it, but I'm still happy as well.
Actually, this was a pic taken down at St. Clare Friary in Chicago. This is where I began my weekend ministry with the new candidates looking at joining the Capuchins. Every October, the Vocations Department plans an event to tour the different ministries in Detroit. Along with information and scenes, there's the opportunity to talk to friars, other candidates who are discerning, and of course current Postulants who can talk about their experience with the order. I was one of the first selected to help John and Jerry with their weekend this year.
The drive was extremely long. Traffic from Milwaukee to Chicago was horrible, the weather just sucked when driving the seven hours from CHI to DET, and there were 11 of us crammed into a fleet van. Since I have "more to love," it's quite obvious that I was rather uncomfortable.
The Director of the Capuchin Food Pantry explains how things work to the visiting candidates. Rich Reinhardt (in the middle with the tote bag)displays his suspicion with the now-patented "eyebrow look."
After some well-needed rest and a few beers to end the day, we got up early Saturday and began our tour of Detroit. We visited the various Soup Kitchens run by the Caps to give the candidates a sense of our presence in DET. One of the things many people are surprised by is not the existence of a "bad neighborhood," but how empty this metropolis actually is. Driving by abandoned lots, burned out houses, bombed-out factories, and abandoned homes with stuffed teddy bears nailed to the siding, the sadness in this city never ceases to amaze me.
They say haunted houses aren't real. I think this place is the exception to the rule, because it still creeps me out!
At the end of the day of visiting ministries, we took a drive up to Washington, MI...about 45 minutes north of Detroit. Here in Washington we have one of our three retreat houses. With 95 acres of property to roam and explore, a great spiritual direction staff, and a cool whippet who's always looking for attention, this place is always nice to visit. I told the candidates that before making a decision, I talked to the director about having a 3 day retreat to really clear my head and assess my next move in life. I ended up not taking that retreat, but I think I found the right answer, regardless.
After returning to CHI from Detroit, and then to MKE, I am glad to be back in my room, listening to my music, while typing on my laptop. But each time I travel to the different ministries of the Capuchins, I'm reminded of one very important thing: each friary is my home.
As a brother (well, still technically a Postulant) my home is wherever a friary exists. My stuff might be at one friary, my office may be at another, my mail might even go to a third; but in each of those places I am invited to participate in the community just like here. There are moments in my reflection where I realize how wonderful it is to live this religious life: knowing that no matter where I go, I have a place to go and family waiting to share a laugh.
I finished the "plunge immersions" yesterday afternoon at 4, and I felt just horrible. It's something I'm still working on.
I've been talked to with regards to over-exerting myself, not making personal time, and simply doing too much. On the one hand, I'm proud to be known as the over-achiever. On the other, I have days like yesterday, where I was cranky, moody, listless, and simply drained from the intense week.
A few weeks ago, in a workshop on contemplative prayer, we talked about "refilling our cup." As Capuchins, we're called to give and give and give, but we have to find ways to nourish our spiritual life in order to have energy for the tasks we do. We learned different methods from mantras, Lexio Divina, the Jesuit Examen reflection, and some rather unorthodox methods as well.
Today I feel much better, having found a way to revive myself for the next week of work. I have a workshop this evening as well labeled, "An Evening for Men:" a reflection in masculine spirituality.
In the meantime, I will contemplate in a way that is therapeutic for me...cleaning my room.
Prayer for 29th Sunday in OT: Almighty and ever-living God, our source of power and inspiration, give us strength and joy in serving you as followers of Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
This week will be another that I'll remain busy. Sometimes I envy the guys who only have to go to their ministry a few hours a day during the week. Because of the nature of mine, I sometimes have engagements on the weekends, during holidays, and usually when the other guys have time off. Like tonight is our "basketball night," however I won't be able to go because I have my ministry. I'm learning about ministries and sacrifices.
A "plunge," or "Milwaukee Experience" as it's also known, is an opportunity for high school students, college students, or anyone to get a first-hand look at the life of the poor, hungry, and homeless of Milwaukee really live. Most event start off with a tour of St. Ben's Church along with a history lesson of the Capuchins and their work with African Americans and the homeless in MKE. Afterwards, they get into line with the other guests to not serve the meal, but to sit and eat along with the other guests.
The group gets to see other places of ministry such as some shelters, movies regarding social justice, and participate in a Service Project while they are here in MKE.
Tonight we have two groups: a group of guys from St. Lawrence Seminary and a group of girls from DSHA (Divine Savior, Holy Angels)...both high school. While the SLS guys will get rooms here at my friary, the girls will stay in some of the rooms above the church on their sleeping bags. It seems kind of wrong to have kids come and sleep on the floor, but this is an immersion experience...and I suppose if I wanted to be hardcore, they could sleep under the porch of the friary and really get a first-hand look!
For a deeper explanation on what the plunge is, you can check here on St. Ben's website.
Hopefully I don't mess anything up!
Daytime Responsory: Clothe yourself with gentleness, and be renewed in faith, which is the flesh of the Lord, and in love, which is the blood of Jesus Christ. -Faith, indeed, is...
OK technically the crazy week has run into the next week, making it a collection of crazy weeks. While the wordplay is fun and interesting, I just find it hard to keep up with everything that's happening. Today I argued on the phone with 4 different collection agencies regarding a bill from 1997. The twist in the story: none of them claimed to have the debt on file, and would not take payment. Imagine that...a collection agency that turns down $666 from a willing payee.
Later this evening, just as I was getting ready to deal at the first table, Mom called to tell me her Park Avenue broke down...on one of the snowiest days of Michigan. Instead of working, I drove an hour to pick her up, find out the transmission was shot, get it to the repair shop, and get home. Thankfully I got the car at my last job, and Bossman said he could get another transmission in for $450 out the door. Ask any mechanic...$450 for a tranny job is amazingly cheap.
It's good to know people. It's even better when you know people who aren't just giving one thing in hopes for another, they do good because that's what they're supposed to.
Last week I started volunteering my time at God's Kitchen in Grand Rapids, a soup kitchen run by Catholic Social Services. Not only do they run the daily kitchen, but they also provide a Meals On Wheels program that runs throghout the entire city of Grand Rapids. And just like any other volunteer program, they are always in need of more help.
I mentioned months ago about not waiting to be a Capuchin, how I can act and be a Capuchin each day with my actions. In the spirit of Lent, where we give up as well as give alms, I thought working at God's Kitchen provided the perfect opportunity to get into the action.
Just for a little history, God's Kitchen was started in the 1970's by a Catholic Worker Group in the heartside district of Grand Rapids. The outreach started as a group serving soup to homeless people out of the back of a Volkswagen van. As their outreach grew, they were given the old Capitol Diner on Division St. To this day, the meal served is called the Capitol Lunch in honor of the building, and the old menu still hangs on the wall, showing cheesburgers for 50 cents and pop for a nickel.
I called the week of Ash Wednesday, telling them of my interest in doing some work for them. I was asked to come in on Tuesday of the following week and help out with the lunch. She asked my availability, and I laughingly told her how I wasn't working during the day, and that since I was planning on joining the Capuchin community this fall, that work here seemed more important than any other work. We decided to let things go, and let God decide where he needed me.
That first Tuesday I worked out on the floor while the clients ate. I spent most of the time cleaning off tables, throwing trash away, and generally making people feel welcome instead of making them feel institutionalized. They are not only guests, but they are my brothers; this is the way I am feel. But honestly, I didn't feel like I was doing much at first.
I was a little let down. Outreach like this is what I wanted to do with my life...helping the poor and disenfranchised. Yet here I was, doing the work of God, but not feeling anything. Sure, I felt the altruistic happiness of doing something good for another human being. but I expected to feel that sense of belonging...a notice from God stating that "Yes, you have found where you need to be."
One table was a little shaky as I cleaned it, and accidently spilled one of the guest's coffee. I greatly apologized, saying "I'll get that cleaned up right away, sir," and quickly cleaned up the mess.
"What's your name?" he asked me. I promptly told him, looking away from the work and smiling.
"You know, Vito, I just got out of prison yesterday and I really didn't feel anything different until just now. When you called me sir and started to clean up the mess, it kinda snapped me back into the real world...I forgot what it was like to be a free man."
That was the voice I was hoping for...not a booming word of God from the sky, but a meek thank you from a man who'd been beat down by the system. It was so metaphorically on-point, I almost hugged the guy right there.
Doing the smart thing, I congratulated him on his return, got his name, and wished him well. In a way I felt justified in being where I was, helping those in need. In reality, we all need a little help of some kind, whether it be a warm meal, someone to make us feel at home, or someone to let us know we're on the right track. I don't expect every day at God's Kitchen to provide such an epiphany, but as long as people need a place to eat or a homebound person needs someone to bring them lunch, I'll do what I can.
"Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children." -Martin Luther King, Jr.
This is not a photo of a 3rd world country. This is the Pine Ridge Reservation, located in the southwest corner of South Dakota. One of the largest reservations in America, it is also the poorest, in spite of the new casino. Tuberculosis and diabetes is 300% higher than the national average, with 50% of adults over 40 having diabetes. 8 out of 10 households are affected by alcoholism.
The boy in the photo most likely lives in a house without electricity, running water, or proper insulation. He will be lucky to ever find work in his lifetime. And according to statistics, he will not live past the age of 47.
When Martin Luther King, Jr. Day comes around, I always here people who think it's a wasted holiday; an excuse for government workers to take another paid day off. During this holiday, I'm reminded of kids like the one in the photo above, who may pass through this life without a second thought from the rest of us.
If we indeed are all God's children, I pray that we will start treating each other as such.
"If you want peace, work for justice." -Pope Paul VI
My week has been a struggle to find something worth while to discuss. Other writers can list an odd happening during their day, or use current events as a sounding board for their opinion. I've tried to keep the "soap-boxing" to a minimum, and focus more on my personal development and my journey towards the Capuchins. Ironically, that may have been why I've had little to share: a lack in personal or spiritual development.
Somewhere along the way, I slipped into a "coast" mode with my life. I simply need to pay back my personal debt and wait until the first of August for my "new" life to start. I found myself just counting the days until I would leave this life and enter the next...in a manner of speaking.
As I said my prayers last night before going to bed, I realized that I shouldn't just be waiting until one day where I can be a Capuchin. I can start to live that life right now. Each day, for the rest of my life, is an opportunity to live my life for Christ. Why wait to change the world when I can start right now?
I awoke with a new view on life. I felt a spring in my step, I was eager to leave for work, and I felt like I wasn't waiting 6.5 months for my life to restart, but that I'd live the rest of these days with a chance to prove to myself that this is the lifestyle I want.
As the day progressed, I found myself a little kinder, a little less tense, and a little more happy with my life. I'd done nothing to change the world, simply changed my outlook on life. I found the whole experience refreshing and inspiring; I now had something to write about when I got home.
On the drive home, I stopped by the local Walgreen's to grab a late night snack. As I parked the car, I saw an old man standing at the entrance to the pharmacy. The snow was coming down quite heavily as the old man put the hood of his tattered coat over his head. I could feel his eyes on me from when I pulled in until I got out of my car. I knew what was going to happen, just like 1000 times before. I'd already rehearsed excuses for not giving him a ride or any money.
I was thinking about how he would react if I offered to actually buy him something rather than give him money...a tactic used to validate a preconceived notion that he would merely buy booze and/or cigarettes with any money I gave him. Strangely enough, as he was telling me his story, I reached into my front pocket to dig for some change. I felt a few quarters, yet I decided that wasn't enough. Digging out my wallet, I saw two 10 dollar bills and a one. Instead of grabbing the single, I handed him one of the tens, content in the thought that I would not spend $10 in Walgreen's for anything. He thanked my graciously, and I told him "no problem" without even a thought. I walked into the store, bought my food, and really didn't worry about whether or not he was buying food with that money or he was saving up for a crack rock. Personally, I know I've spent $10 on seven-deuce offsuit plenty of times; I can waste money just like the next guy.
I decided to put a little faith in God, and hope that the money I gave him would be well spent. I felt better on the drive home, despite the fact that my gas needle was getting dangerously close to E. Before I could even regret that $10, I wondered what it would be like for those people who had to live outside as the snow continued to pour down. I have a wonderful apartment to return to, and I'm arriving to my location in a reliable (and warm) source of transportation. How many people sleeping in Grand Rapids have that?
I felt much better about myself. Maybe because I learned something today, or maybe because I knew I'd have a wonderful post to share with all of you. Perhaps both reasons are valid. I feel like I'm doing the right thing again...and it all started with prayer. I hate it when those vocation directors are right.
A wonderful story needs a theme for it, so as I parked my car, I happened to hear some Van Halen playing on one of the radio stations. While it wasn't the song I've listed, it reminded me of this song; both the lyrics as well as the acoustic guitar have always stuck with me. While Sammy Hagar wasn't known for much spiritual enlightenment via music (Mas Tequila isn't really Catholic-like), I think this song rings true on a lot of things I've started to see in life.
The song is unavailable on projectplaylist.com, however if you find a copy of the Right Here, Right Now CD by Van Halen, you will find this song on Disc 2.
I can see that you got fire in your eyes And pain inside your heart So many things have come Torn your world apart So baby, don't give up
If you want love, you gotta give a little If you want faith, you gotta believe a little If you want peace, turn your cheek a little You gotta give, you gotta give to live.
An empty hand reaching for someone An empty heart takes so little to fill It's so much easier to push instead of pull So baby, don't give up.
If you want love, you gotta give a little If you want faith, you gotta believe a little If you want peace, turn your cheek a little You gotta give, you gotta give to live.
Each man's a country in his own right And everybody needs a friend One friend, one God, one country, No man need defend
I believe in fate and destination So much of that lies in our own hands So if you know what you want You can go out and get it But baby, don't you ever give up.
If you want love, you gotta give a little If you want faith, you gotta believe a little If you want peace, turn your cheek a little If you want love, you gotta give.
Today as I prepared for work at the Poker Room, I let my mind wonder free about thoughts of the Capuchins, what it will be like to be a Postulant, and even what my life will be like after ordination. I thought about something my boss always tells me: "I would feel more comfortable talking to someone like you as a priest than someone who went into seminary at the age of 14. You've lived life, Vito. You have something unique that you bring to the table that other priests may not."
My mind drifted from this conversation to my "gifts," and eventually to the idea of being in front of a parish administering Mass. One of my naughty little pipe-dreams is to take something from the Gospel and begin an Homily as if completely unplanned. I allow this thought to take over, imaging myself giving witness to a host of people. It doesn't have the true feeling of standing in front of a crowd of people, yet it gives me the change to speak what's on my mind. It's how my priest's sermons always sounded like. I take the time to imagine what I would say that could inspire or touch the lives of others.
It puts me in a better state of mind, being able to reflect on the Gospel in this way. But it also gives me a sense of purpose, knowing that the enjoyment I receive of contemplating the Word is part of what brought me this far in my journey.
Since these are always off the cuff, I'm not sure what kind of blog this will turn into. However I've thought about what it would be like to give my first Homily after being ordained, and what it would sound like. Perhaps it would be something like this:
About ten minutes before Mass started, as I was in the sacristy, it finally struck me that this would be the first time I stood up in front of a parish and actually delivered the Homily. I can remember being a boy sitting over there (pointing to where the alter servers were) and listening to my priest. He'd walk in front of the alter, he'd never stand behind the podium, and he liked to talk with his hands. He didn't read from a notecard or a prepared speech; he spoke to us...much like I'm speaking to you now.
And over the years, as my faith grew, I realized that being able to see him in that way, more as a person telling me about his life and his understanding of the day's Gospel reading, he was relating himself as a human being. He made the Gospel not as a lofty goal that we could never reach, but as the means by which we should live, and how we could incorporate it into our daily lives.
Today's reading from Matthew is a familiar one: the story of Jesus summoning his disciples. He tells them: "Come with me, and I will make you fishers of men."
"...fishers of men."
The part of the story that I always found fascinating, and something that stayed with me the entire time I considered this idea of becoming a Capuchin was how Peter and Andrew react.
"They immediately abandoned their nets."
Now you can look at almost any translation, and that adverb is still there: "Right away, At once, Straightaway they abandoned their nets and followed Him."
Right away. At once. Immediately.
The thought of that confuses me. Some 10 years ago, when I first heard that call to God, I didn't do anything immediately! When I first felt that pull towards the priesthood, I was scared. I was almost horrified! Here I was, content in my job, living the American Dream (air quotes); by my standards I was a success already. Why did I need to become a priest? Why did I have to give up all of this?
For me, it took years to truly understand what it meant to understand this calling. I had doubts, feelings of unworthiness, even the idea that I was trying to impress someone by becoming a priest. There was nothing I could do immediately, because I wasn't even sure what I was supposed to do.
And as I learned more and more about myself, I realized that I wasn't happy at that job. My life wasn't as fulfilling as I pretended it was. My gauge for success was this small scale of material items. And I would begin to wonder that maybe Peter and Andrew weren't too happy with where their lives were. Maybe the life of a fisherman was not who they were meant to be. Perhaps God had given them the desire, the wisdom, and the courage to do more with their lives...they needed simply to wait until they were called to do so. And immediately, they left their nets to follow Him.
Perhaps we're not so different from the Apostles. We all have in our hearts the desire to do something wonderful with our lives. We want to make people smile, we want to right that what is wrong...sometimes we just don't know how. Sometimes we just don't want to commit ourselves to doing too much. If there is a lesson to be learned, it is that we as Catholic Christians should make ourselves aware of that Calling that God has for each of us, and make ourselves available to do what is asked.
I'm not advocating that you should all give up your jobs and sell everything you own after you leave church. In fact some of you have already followed your call: being married, being a father, being an employer.
What I want you to understand is that we're all called to do more. Maybe not change the world, but to open our hearts to God and to those around us. I became a Capuchin because this is where God wants me. I'm not sure what I do next; God didn't give me timeline for the rest of my life. However these years later, I'm standing in front of all of you wonderful people, much like my parish priest stood in front of my parish, hoping that I was put here to affect the life of another as my parish priest touched mine.
eh, perhaps I'm not the greatest ad-lib speaker, but I like being able to let my mind wander and think.
