One of the things that people find annoying at Mass is the people who leave early...usually right after receiving Communion. I understand that the church is packed, parking is a pain, and the game (whichever sport that may be) starts 20 minutes after Mass; but going to Mass is a committment of one's faith not an extra that is squeezed between a night out and a day of vegging out. It's disrespectful to God, the presider, and the gathered parish community.

So I was pleasantly surprised when I attended a recent Mass and heard the presider say:

"Out of respect for our Lord and for the Lord's people gathered here today, I ask you all to stay until the Mass is finished."

I found his statement to be thought-filled, respectful, and in keeping with the spirit of the Liturgy. People leaving early is something all parish priests have to deal with. As I am still discerning a calling towards the priesthood along with my vocation to the Capuchin Franciscans, innovative and respectful priests such as the one who presided on this occassion inspire me to continue considering a life as a priest.

After the blessing, he pleaded again. "Before you go," he called to the people trying to sneak out, "Stay a while! Grab a hymnal...and join the rest of us in song for the Christmas Season." Unfortunately we were sitting too far up front to see how many people were trying to leave early.

It was a respectful and challenging attempt to reach out to parishioners...definitely something for me to remember for later days.

Today at our ministry I participated in a Penance Service, held for the residents of the nursing home. As I waited outside the chapel as Father heard the confessions of the residents, a wonderful lady in a wheelchair looked up at me with a fearful look on her face:

"Is this 'face-to-face'?"

It took me a minute to understand exactly what she was talking about. You see, ever since I'd given my first confession years ago, I'd always sat in front of my confessor. As an "up front and direct" individual, I always found it better to address my sins and seek absolution directly, rather than behind a screen or lattice. The personal feel of it gives me a sense that we (the priest and I) together are asking God for this sacrament. It has also allowed me to sit and have good discussions with priests (some new and some old) about life, faith, and even the next NFL game.

But what scared this poor lady was that she was used to the confidentiality of the screen in the confessional.

In my usual, joking way I tried to make this wonderful woman feel more at ease about giving her confession. "I always gave my confession face-to-face," I said smiling, "because my priest would know it was me either way!"

She smiled, and said she was a little scared. "Then he'll know it's me saying all these bad sins!"

I understood her concern, because it was one I've heard often enough from non-Catholics. "Why do I have to confess my sins to another person? God forgives, not a priest."

There are many fine liturgists and theologians that can answer these arguements a lot better than I ever could. Being a lowly Novice and ex-car salesman, I've still got a lot to do to catch up to with brothers like Sean and Charles.

But since it was just me, I did the best I could:

"You know, he's not there to judge you or tell you that you're a horrible person. It's a celebration of the gift we've been given from Christ's perpetual love for us. It's just hard because we're willing to hold onto our mistakes a lot longer than God ever will. Even I still get nervous before going." (I don't think that was exactly what I said, but that was the jist of it)

She felt confident as I wheeled her into the chapel in the nursing home. And as I walked out and closed the door behind me, I felt something had worked through me...if only for an instant. I know a Spiritual Director could have given better advice...but sometimes we need to be present to each other, even if we think we're under-qualified for the task.

As the priest wheeled her out of the chapel, I could tell she'd been crying. But the expression on her face told me they were good tears. I took her down to the lobby where everyone else was eating cookies and talking.

I don't know if anything great happened today. Perhaps I just saw someone in need and did the best I could to provide comfort. Yet it was one of those times that I felt that something, some sense encouragement from a power greater than myself. I won't jump to conclusions, but if that was how Francis felt each day he spent with the lepers...I understand why his story has perservered all these years.

(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.

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.

Our house has been flooded with candidates who plan on becoming the next class of postulants to join the Capuchins. I was asked to do morning prayer for the house, and while planning, I had came up with an idea: give an example of what it means to "get out of your comfort zone."

So rather than just using something I already knew, or letting someone else sing for me, I sang a capella this morning. I didn't just sing, but I sang something that's exactly easy: O Healing River.


Since there are a lot of references to water during Lent, today being from Isaiah, O Healing River is a good song for Lent...especially when Ashes has been used up by the first week! Those that know me also know that I don't (can't) sing, so I usually just play accompaniment. However with the chance to demonstrate what it means to do something a little scary, I put myself out there.

I doubt I'm ready for a solo career as a singer, but one of the things I'm self-conscious about is my singing. I think the chance to do little things like that, and do them to show the new guys that it's OK to be a little scared, helps everyone.

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.

Being able to talk in front of a group of people is an acquired skill. Part of being a car salesman is the ability to start up a conversation with anyone, not be embarrassed by anything that might be said, and know that if the crowd loses interest or starts to turn on you, make them laugh...even if you have to make fun of yourself.
Since I started at St. Ben's Community Meal in Milwaukee, WI as Chaplain and Volunteer Coordinator, I've had many opportunities to give talks in front of groups. Whether they be 3 college kids, 15 high school students, 22 seminarians, a classroom at Marquette University, or a confirmation class of 200+ adolescents...I've been asked to give a number of talks since I've been here.

When I first started, it was a 10 minute talk about hunger in Milwaukee. I knew nothing of hunger in Milwaukee; I was still kicking dirt from Grand Rapids off my shoes! But as with all things I've learned here during postulancy, I read and learned. I listened to people who were in the know. I took time to study, dig up facts, and even pray about finding the words to best convey the message I want to send.

Here's a few of the topics I'm usually asked to talk about:

1. Conversion - As a former car salesman and poker dealer, my life has drastically changed by no longer chasing money or climbing a ladder of status. By trying to live the Gospel and see all people as creations of God, I have come to a new understanding of life and a pursuit of a greater vocation.
2. History - Starting as a store-front Catholic church by a black layman in 1908, St. Benedict the Moor has a long history in the city of Milwaukee as a mission to the African-American population, then later to the homeless and hungry.
3. Social Justice - St. Ben's focuses not just on the immediate needs of the homeless and the impoverished. By working through agencies, advocates, and by teaching and sharing the stories of the poor and marginalized, we at St. Ben's try not just to stop the symptoms of injustice, but also work on the root problems.
4. Vocation - By allowing students, adults, and professionals to see the life of the homeless, the programs in place to address those needs, and making them aware of the problem, we encourage people not only to just think about how to fix the problem, but to become involved as well. Often times I am asked about my particular vocation to the Capuchins.
5. Personal Reflection - After participating in the meal as a guest, not as a server, there is the chance to reflect on the experience of having been at the Meal Program. This experience allows people to gain a better insight into what it's like to be dependent on such programs. Sometimes guests are asked to come to talks away from St. Ben's to talk about their lives living in Milwaukee.
   

In the short amount of time that I've been here at St. Ben's, I've been challenged to not only do a lot, but also to say a lot as well. In the beginning, I felt weird about all the talks. Part of me wanted to hide from the notoriety I'd gained. "Just let me be a simple and humble friar!" was my thought. As the process continued, I realized it wasn't all about me. There's a story to tell, a witness that needs to be given, and not everyone has the ability to stand in front of 25 people with no script and just a vague idea for a topic...and smile at the challenge of trying to make at least one person truly consider what is being said.

I'm sad to think that in less than 3 months I will be off doing something completely different. Then in the coming August, another poor soul will take my place, hoping to soon become a Capuchin, and will be asked to give a 30 minute presentation on a meal program they haven't fully understood yet. But I think that's part of the flavor of religious life. I know I will miss what I've learned here, as I start counting "days left" instead of "days here." But I know I will take what I've learned and continue to tell my story. Most of all, I know that someday I will find myself back at St. Ben's, perhaps then I will be in "full garb." And when I do return, I'll remember why I missed it in the first place.

If you live in the Milwaukee area and are looking for someone to talk to your group about the St. Ben's Community Meal, please call 414-271-0135. Ask for Br. Dave Schwab or Br. Vito Martinez. You can also see St. Ben's Website for a description of some of the programs we offer at the Community Meal.

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.

As we stood in at Liturgy this morning in our chapel, I had a moment of clarity. Perhaps it was because my cold was finally going away. Maybe it was because I was making a concerted effort to work on my habits and personal issues that keep me from God. Maybe God thought I just needed a pat on the back from the Holy Spirit. Perhaps it was all three, maybe it was neither. Either way, I felt my mind open as we stood in front of the alter, listening to one of the friars celebrating Mass.

In a moment, I realized where I truly was. I'd gone from being a salesman, a person who'd chased money and women like a sport, a person who'd barely cared about anyone but myself...to being here in a friary, happily celebrating Mass. Maybe for the first time I understood how "awkward" it was for people who knew who I "was" and tried to fit in who I "am." I couldn't help but smile at how amazing this past 3 months of my life has been.

Usually I hear people who have moments like this and realize they've made a huge mistake. Hell, my last huge revelation is where I realized I needed to make a change in my life. Yet this morning I felt affirmed about what I was doing. Maybe it was the fact that I enjoyed doing bible study in jail, or because I liked being involved with my faith. Perhaps it's because I feel I am being who I truly am, not just what I want others to think I am. Or perhaps it's something deeper than that. Perhaps I deflect a lot of the compliments I get because I feel I am "not worthy" of praise. Today...I feel good to be here, and I realize that the work I've been doing is worthy of praise, because it's not something I could have done completely me by myself. I had a lot of help.

Perhaps this seems like rambling, but I feel full of the Spirit this morning; it feels good. =)

I mentioned a few weeks ago about a pesky bill collector that wanted to keep charging me more money on a debt I'd already paid off. Over the weekend I was served a Summons. I'm being sued. Interestingly enough, it's for the full amount; I have receipts from paying them. Maybe they're just being annoying?

I knew I had to say something in my defense, but like most people I know little about legal recourse and I'm not financially equipped to have a personal lawyer on retainer. Fortunately someone I know through the charity work I do happens to be a lawyer, and was willing to help me out free of charge.

He sat and listened to what happened, gave me a few pointers, and by the end of the talk I was almost ready to counter-sue! It was wonderful to have his assistance. Now when I respond I feel confident that I will either be awarded a Satisfactory judgement or that their lawyer will want to settle. If not, I feel I gave it my best effort, and that I was lucky to have someone willing to help someone else.

People ask me "What does it mean to be a Capuchin? How are they different from a monk?" Little things like this, doing small things in your life to help make someone's life a little better, that is what Capuchin life is about. It's the ability to see someone in need of help and recognize that God's will is that we help each other. I'm not sure he's even Catholic, but the fact that he wanted to help me in my time of need, as simple a thing it was for him, means something huge to me.

Keep that idea in mind during the rest of this Lenten season. While acts of kindness may be small and you may feel you're not doing enough, remember that the gifts you offer are better judged by those in need. You'd be surprised how the littlest things mean the most to those in need.

In less than a week, I will no longer be a salesman. On Tuesday I will give up the greatest career I've had in my life, and take a job with less hours to better reflect on the upcoming year.

Later this month, I will have interviews with the Vocation Director of the Capuchins, with their psychologists, their doctors, and a host of other people to decide if I am capable of applying to the order.

This is no new decision. It's something I've been pondering for months. Over the summer, several things have made me realize the path I should take. Unfortunately, much of that time was unchronicled because of my busy schedule.

Over the next few days, as I continue to deliver current news, I will share some stories of the past few months, and how they've helped me arrive at this point in my life.

The first and the hardest part: the death of my grandmother.

September of 2007 will be remembered as a pivotal role in my discernment, because of the death of my grandmother. A proud, hard-working, and faithful woman, my grandmother lived the life of a poor migrant worker. My family looked to me for guidance. They looked to me for strength. While my mother, aunts, and uncles battled the emotion of losing their mother, I as the eldest of the third generation of the Martinez family tried to be strong for everyone else.

I was asked about Heaven and Hell. I was asked about Extreme Unction. I was asked about Purgatory. While I didn't have all the answers, they felt comfortable hearing words. It set their mind at ease, if only because they had someone to listen to the tough questions. It was as if my family already thought I was a priest.

The Saturday before she died, I remember driving down to be with the family. We were at the hospital for a while, and my mom and aunts talked about heading to someones house to get some rest. I said I wanted to drive for a bit, and left in my own vehicle.

That night I drove around South Bend, completely lost in my own thoughts. I cruised around the town until 11:30PM, not knowing much of what to think or do. I was confused. I was sad. I was in pain.

After hours of thinking and rattling my brain, I realized what was bothering me. I'd told most of the family about my discernment, and how I was looking into the Capuchins. However I'd never told my grandmother. I kept it from her when she was healthy because I was unsure, and there's no way I could explain how complicated my decision was. Now, when time was almost too late, there's no way she'd even know.

At midnight I returned to the hospital, and the nurses let me into her room without question. For the first time, I was alone with my grandmother who was no longer responsive. I sat by her bed, and talked to her for the first time in a long time.

"Grandma. It's me. Soy Vito.

"Grandma, I know you can still hear me. There's something I've wanted to tell you for a long time. I think God's calling me to be a priest, Grandma, and I don't know what to do. I'm scared that I'm not good enough. I'm scared of changing my life.

"But I'm gonna try. I think I've found where God wants me to serve, and I think I know what he wants me to do. I think he just wants me to be happy. I don't know if I'm smart enough, or holy enough. But I'm really gonna try."


In tears, I sat with my Grandmother as I sit in front of this notebook, overwhelmed by the feelings of grief, feelings of complete humility, and the total honesty of what my feelings are. I'll never know exactly what road I should be on unless I make the next big step.

Even now, I'm still not sure.

...but I'm going to try.

Tonight was a personal victory for me as I ordered dinner at a local Mexican grill named Tacos Del Ganadero. The food is excellent, the prices are fair, but my only issue: they mostly speak Spanish....

...and I don't.

I remember when I wanted to be the "Great Brown Hope" for the local diocese. With only one other Hispanic priest in a city where 20% of the population is Latino, I thought I could bring my culture as well as my calling to the diocese and help at a local parish. I only had to learn Spanish so I could fulfill that role.

Unfortunately, I never learned Spanish as a child. Mom grew up in a city where other languages were frowned upon or made fun of during school. Rather than put us through the same "torture," none of my generation was taught Spanish in the household.

"Mexican Americans, go to school to take Spanish, and get a B." -Cheech Marin

When I'm put in a position where I have to speak Spanish, I do it softly and meekly. I feel embarrassed that I don't know it like I should. Perhaps that's the thing that gets me: people assume I should speak Spanish because of my color. What if I spoke Gaelic? or Bosnian? Or maybe I spoke some dialect of Swahili?

Regardless, people of all races, including mine, would still ask: "How come you don't speak Spanish? It would be a benefit if you can speak two languages." So I do my best to learn and not feel so sheepish when I use it.

I stopped into my favorite Taco Shop (I actually got a burrito) determined not to speak any English. I walked up to the counter ordered "un burrito de asada. Con todo, por favor." The girl taking the orders thought nothing of the order, however I felt confident about my understanding of the language. She asked me a question, and I didn't understand what she said. I caught one word: bebidas.

I stood there for a quick second, then responded: Oh, quiero una horchata tambien.

"Para aqui or llevar?" she asked. I know the answer to this one!

"Para llevar," I said, pointing towards the door. She smiled and handed the order to the cook. I was home free!

Granted, I simply got food. It's not like I translated a large text into Spanish. But little victories like those make me feel good about speaking another language. There is no doubt: if I follow any kind of priestly vocation, I will have to learn Spanish. Until I sit in a classroom again, I'll do my best to learn in the real world.

As I walked out of the Taco Shop, another Mexican held the door for me. I thanked him, in Spanish, still feeling pretty good about myself. I think the guy saw the smile on my face, and said something funny to me, but because I couldn't understand, I have no clue what he said.

The best I could do was smile a little wider and let out a chuckle.

So much more to learn. =)

I apologize for taking so long, once again. The hit-counter on my website is screaming with visits, so I know some of you have been patiently awaiting some information. Thank you all for visiting and caring.

As with all stories, one must start at the beginning:

For the past few months, sales at the dealership have been low. Michigan's economy is tanking, gas prices keep shooting up...it's hard for the lower-income to afford to pay for a car. My dealership works with bad-credit/no-credit customers, charging higher costs and interest rates.

One of my struggles has been this line of work. On one hand, I'm helping poor customers who've fallen on hard times. On the other, I'm charging double the worth of the vehicle and a percentage rate that rivals biblical usury. It's hard to be a good Catholic and work in this type of environment.

Monday I came into work like any other Monday. I did my morning walk-through and stopped in my General Manager's office to say "Good Morning." The office was empty, and the desk was clean...a little too clean. There were no knick-knacks, pictures, or paperwork. Interesting, but I let it slip my mind.


I ran to Speedway to grab my morning coffee Monster Energy Drink. On the way back, I stopped at a dealership across the street from where I work. A poker buddy works in the back; I wanted to be neighborly and see how their weekend was.

We talked for a few minutes. During the discussion, my buddy surprised me:

"You know, Bossman is looking for you."
"Uh oh," I said jokingly. "What did I do?"
"He's looking for someone to do sales. He wants to be buying cars, not selling 'em. I told him you were a good guy, and I think he wants to ask you if you wanna run the show here."

For those not familiar with the car business, not every dealership looks like King of Cars on TV. Small dealerships usually have one guy (or gal) doing everything: sales, finance, title, and bookwork. My buddy's dealership had near 20 cars, mostly German and Asian imports, with a few techs in back to service the cars. Because of gas prices and popularity, the dealership gets a tremendous amount of floor traffic. Since the owner is the only salesman, he is not always there, and misses out on customers and possible sales.

The sound of Vito: General Manager sounded great. I knew the money would be excellent. But was I ready to make that huge of a commitment? Should I change jobs when I'm this close to paying off all my debt? Should I consider a job that loses me health insurance, retirement benefits, and 3 years of seniority (if seniority actually exists in the car business), but offers me much more money? Would I handle the extra responsibility? What about next August?

I happily considered the offer, then went back to my dealership.

Soon after I returned, the finance manager has a quick meeting with the sales staff: "The GM is no longer with the company. We've decided to move in a new direction. There's more changes coming as well. I'll keep you informed."

"Oh shit," I thought. "I know what more changes means. My customers have repossessions because their company wanted to make more changes." I considered the options, and the possibility that I may soon be out of a job. I've been on the receiving end of a "company restructuring" before. Should I stay and chance it? Should I jump on this opportunity? Again...what about my personal debt and August of 2008? Is this a roadblock, a fork in the road, or the path I'm meant to take?

As I tried to discern a decision in the midst of a business day, I thought about what my feelings were: I was at odds with my current job, despite the security it offered. Only weeks before, I was ecstatic about the poker place announcing plans to play seven days a week (check out that alliteration!). Was this opportunity any different? Did I want out of the car business altogether, or just the BHPH game? Is this an answer to my prayers of concern, or the devil's way of tempting me away from thoughts of priesthood? Oh, if I only had more time!!!

I took a few moments, saying: "God, give me strength. God, give me wisdom. God, give me courage." I knew a decision had to be made that day, and that any decision would wrench me from my comfort zone. I had a plan, now I had to make a new one.

I was working with a customer when my buddy from across the street walks into my dealership.
"Hey, whats up?" I asked, already knowing what he wanted.

Rather than saying "Hey, Bossman wants to see you," he tilted his head towards the other dealership across the street. I knew what he meant, and I knew it had to be done soon. I told him I'd be over as soon as possible.

Perhaps by dumb luck or divine intervention, I answered the phone soon after. On the other line, I hear a familiar message:

"This is collect call from (enter name here) calling from County Corrections Facility. If you would like to accept the charges..."

Normally, one would deny a collect call. However the person that called was the owner's son.

He was slightly frantic, and wanted to speak with his sister, the finance manager. I don't know what was said, but that day, his sister was gone for several hours...presumably to post bail. I looked online to see the arrest charge. The listing said "Public Intoxication."

It was the final piece of the puzzle. If they fired my current boss, this kid calling from jail will be my future boss. Do I want that? I won't judge another for being in jail, I know what it's like. But if he's responsible for my job and sales, I'm no longer confident about my position.

I walked across the street again, expecting to speak with Bossman. He is Bosnian, so his English is somewhat broken. He's a great guy, always has a smile, and seems to think I'm the perfect candidate for running the dealership.

"VEE-toe!" he says when I enter his office. "You are good guy! When do you want to start? I already sell four cars today!"

I was fishing for more information, but I could tell he was doing the same. My hands shook just a little because of the hectic day. It got his attention. We were examining each other, hoping get a better read on each other.

"I let you be Sales Manager," he tells me. "You run things how you feel is best. I prefer to buy cars. I can't be here to sell. Look at all the people. I can't keep cars on the lot!"

And he was right. His lot was busy. I looked across the street to my lot; I could almost see tumbleweeds blowing across.

"Let me talk to my Manager," I finally told him. "I want some time to think it over."
"Does something scare you?" he asked.

He'd already seen me shaking a little. I didn't want to tell him I was scared out of my mind, but he already knew. To save face, I told him about insurance coverage, and how important that was to me. He agreed that it was a serious concern, and something to think about. He said he could not offer insurance yet, but he hoped to within a year or so.

"Haha! We'll make all kinds of money! And I take care of my people. Ask any of them!"

My friend already told me: Bossman was generous with his money.

It's near the end of the day, and I'm frantic about what to do. I want to call my spiritual director, but I lost her number when my phone was stolen (Monday was also when I got my replacement! Very cool.) I called my Mom, letting her know my dilemma. She didn't really give me any advice but to really think about it. I called my best friend, hoping for some pragmatic insight.

My friend Jay is a very methodical thinker. He has a unique way of objectionably looking at any problem, regardless of the emotion involved. If I ever have a question that I need a logical answer to, he's my man.

I presented him with three options via game theory - which choice offered the greatest reward with the lowest amount of risk:

1. (Drastic Move)I take the job and don't look back. I may lose a lot of benefits and this job may turn out to be a lot less money than where I'm at now, but I've secured a job regardless.
2. (Conservative Move)I stay where I'm at, do my best, and hope that I'm not fired. The pay plan would change, some of my co-workers would change, and my current job may become something drastically different. Make $5000 as fast as possible before they fire me.
3. (Open Move)I talk to the manager, let her know my concerns regarding more changes, and perhaps get some better information to help me decide on a course of action.

My buddy answers fast: "Number three. Most managers like when you're direct, they like knowing about personnel changes before it happens, and they're willing to work with you if you're straight-forward. Not to mention, you might be one of the people they intend to keep."

I take my friend's advice, and ask the finance manager for a brief meeting after work...

Wow, I've been typing for about an hour. I know I need a break. If you're eyes aren't bleeding and you're ready, continue on. Otherwise, enjoy with me this brief interlude: the latest remix of Chocolate Rain:

After work, I spoke candidly with the manager: "Okay, my boss just got the axe today. Obviously I'm interested in my future with the company."

"There's a lot of changes that need to happen," she told me. Thankfully, she tried to be as straight-forward as she could. "This is my lifetime job here. I have to look out for me and my dad. The current situation is not working. We're not making any money. Things have to be changed. Some people need to pick up their sales or we'll have to let them go."

When I asked where I stood, she said: "Your numbers are low. I don't want to get rid of anyone, but we can't have low sales anymore. I'd like to see everyone have the opportunity to prove what they can do." She was being sincere, which perhaps made my next statement so easy to say.

"Just to let you know where I stand, sometime in next year I intend to leave. I've considered a religious life for some time, and I'm strongly considering the Capuchins, an order of the Franciscan Friars. I also have another opportunity to run the shop across the street. My question is this: do you think I should stay, or do you think I should take advantage of this opportunity, since it's may not be available for too long?"

The statement rocked her for a moment. In one breath, I told her I wanted to be a priest, I'd quit in less than a year, I was being offered a better position, and I wanted her opinion.

I gave her a moment to sink in all the information, and let her respond. I'm not 100% exactly what she said, but what I heard was: "We may fire you. If you have an opportunity, jump on it before it's too late."

I thanked her for her candor, and immediately walked across the street. I walked into the office, saw Boss Man sitting at his desk with some others around, and said: "So when do you want me to start?"

"Yes! We are going to have great time making money!" he says.

We spoke for about an hour. We talked about payplans, floorplans, police books, and all sorts of other car business things. We talked about what he wanted out of me: someone to keep things in order, sell cars, and do follow up. He wanted to buy cars, expand, and sell more cars. He wanted someone he could trust, someone that came recommended, and someone that would be as laid back as he was. I told him I was his man, and that while I was still a little nervous, I'd do what was needed to sell some cars.

He said "We eat lunch tomorrow, talk about more things. Alright?" We shook hands and parted ways.

Last night I drove home wondering if I'd just followed God's plan or made a deal with the devil. Boss Man is a great guy. Has his family over a lot. I think he likes me because I came recommended. Otherwise I'm positive he'd hire another Bosnian to do the job. Perhaps he sees something in me that I still find hard to see: the ability to rise above my current level and do something great.

Perhaps he's not the devil, but someone helping me further down the path I'm intended.

Tomorrow: lunch, signing a Separation of Employment Form, and a possible high school reunion.

Stay tuned!

(Because of everything going on, I've put my Discernment and Music blog aside for this week. The next installment will continue this weekend, or when things slow down. Thanks -V"