Open Doors: So Much Mercy!

Logo of the Year of Mercy
Image from http://www.im.va

“So Much Mercy!” exclaimed widely beloved Pope Francis when he announced the Year of Mercy that begins today (December 8, 2015) and ends November 20, 2016. This Extraordinary Jubilee (read more here) in the Church will center on a particular focus upon God’s mercy. Today, the Church begins a yearlong celebration, acceptance, and action of God’s mercy working in, on, and through us. It begins on the feast of the Immaculate Conception and ends on the celebration of Christ the King, which is no accident. We ask that Mary, Mother of Mercy, will watch over us as we begin this special journey on the day her miraculous life began. Embracing mercy, we will make our way to the feast day of her Son, “King of the Universe and living face of the Father’s mercy,” next November at the conclusion of the Year of Mercy.

How does one go about celebrating, accepting, and acting on God’s mercy during the Year of Mercy? I picked out one particular remark from Pope Francis’ announcement of the Year of Mercy that helps me to think about this Jubilee in concrete terms:

“We are called to look beyond, to focus on the heart in order to see how much generosity everyone is capable of. No one can be excluded from the mercy of God; everyone knows the way to access it and the Church is the house where everyone is welcomed and no one is rejected. Her doors remain wide open, so that those who are touched by grace may find the assurance of forgiveness.”

The Year of Mercy, then:

• Calls us to look outside ourselves
• Focuses on the heart
• Encourages full generosity
• Excludes no one
• Involves wide open doors
• Is all about the assurance of forgiveness through God's grace

The mercy Pope Francis refers to here is two-fold. First, in a special way this year, we acknowledge God’s mercy in our lives by repenting and by seeking his endlessly merciful forgiveness. Pope Francis calls for the worldwide community to revive our personal relationships with our Father by seeking His forgiveness and trusting in His mercy. Second, the Year of Mercy extends beyond our relationships with God to our relationships with one another: to our own mercy. We are called, this year, to act mercifully and generously to our worldwide community.

I find this twofold focus on mercy to be beautifully represented by the opening of Holy Doors during this Year of Mercy.

Image from www.telegraph.co.uk

Consider your daily routine: how many times do you pass under archways and doors? I would bet lots. Each time I enter or exit some place in which I have been dwelling, the passage under a door both alters my internal disposition and my outer environment. When I leave my dorm room in the morning, I pass from my room into the hallway and then out onto a quad. When I enter a classroom building, I exit the outdoors and enter a throng of twenty-somethings all filing into separate rooms through doors that represent thresholds of learning. When I enter South Dining Hall, I become excited for good food and company. When I enter a chapel, I automatically assume a greater disposition of prayerful inner peace. Doors are useful because they help us to achieve a greater sense of privacy. Doors allow for adjacent rooms to have completely different aesthetics. Doors are thresholds that change, or at least affect, us and our environments.

Pope Francis opened a special Holy Door at St. Peter's Basilica in Rome today. Starting on December 13th, additional Holy Doors will be opened in Catholic churches around the world that will remain open throughout the Year of Mercy. Making pilgrimages through these doors represents both a change in our own selves and a change in our orientation towards the world.

The change in our selves involves the act of seeking, accepting, and offering gratitude for the working of God’s mercy in our lives. While ordinary doors in our lives change our dispositions as we enter different spaces, these Holy Doors are meant to re-invigorate our understanding of God’s gracious mercy at work. We reach out to God in humility and repentance, and joyfully accept the mercy waiting there.

The change in our orientation towards the world brings our own mercy into play. While ordinary doors alter our locations in the world, passage through Holy Doors during the Year of Mercy is meant to spur us on to greater generosity through works of mercy. Holy Doors will literally change the environment of the world by making it a more merciful place.

When faithful all over the world enter through Holy Doors during this special year, our inner and outer selves will be changed by mercy because of God's grace. The world, too, will change: the Holy Doors are an image of the open disposition Pope Francis calls us to embrace during this Extraordinary Jubilee. Recently I have had many conversations with people on and off campus about the extremely tumultuous world we live in. Why is there such widespread discord and misunderstanding? How does one begin to process it all? How can I act? I have found an answer in Pope Francis’ declaration of this Year of Mercy: by allowing myself to be changed in both of the ways the Holy Doors call me to be, by celebrating, accepting, and acting on God’s mercy, I will contribute in a significant way to a greater peace in this world through my life and through my disposition towards other lives.

Image from ndtv.com

See here for information on the opening of the main door of the Basilica of the Sacred Heart as a Holy Door during this Jubilee, which will occur on December 13th.

The Intersection of Martha and Mary

Some of the most focused, peace-filled moments I have experienced during my time at Notre Dame have been during finals week.

During finals week, the pressure of countless time commitments that push us forward at a sometimes relentless pace typically vanish. There are no classes to attend, few meetings, and limited activities: studying is our only task. The finals week before winter break is coated by the sweetness of Christmas being right around the corner, and campus is usually blanketed in a thick layer of soft, quiet snow that muffles noises of would-be hustle and bustle: the atmosphere invites peace to come over campus.

There is also something extremely satisfying about camping out on the eleventh floor of the Hesburgh library tower armed with a backpack full of books and snacks to crank out work in preparation for essays and exams.

So where do the wonderful moments come in in the midst of the finals grind?

In traversing back and forth from the library and noticing beauty. In taking a study break to grab a chai latte with a friend to talk about anything but finals. In doing extra things like cleaning my room and exercising and performing a quick random act of kindness just for the sake of feeling like a real human outside of the academic realm. And in approaching finals week intentionally. Prayerfully.

Image from mtnestbutblessed.files.wordpress.com

In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus visits two sisters named Martha and Mary. Mary sits at Jesus’ feet as He speaks, listening to Him intently and simply being still in His presence. Meanwhile, Martha, the host, is “distracted by her many tasks,” frustrated by her sister’s unwillingness to help her (Luke 10:40). Jesus informs Martha that Mary has “chosen the better” of the two routes of hosting Him, through her simple presence with Him.

Sometimes I feel a lot like Martha during the school year. I feel as though I am often running from place to place around campus, bouncing from one thing to another without leaving much time to rest or pray in the midst of it all. I hear similar sentiments from friends quite frequently. But I can relate to Mary, too, in her desire simply to sit with the Lord and to listen to Him. I think a big indication of the Mary-like tendency on campus is the particularly large glow emitted from the candles at the Grotto during busy times such as midterms or finals weeks. A late-night visit to the Grotto this past Sunday demonstrated this very trend: students arriving back from Thanksgiving break flocked to the Grotto to re-center and re-connect in preparation for a busy couple of upcoming weeks. We are drawn to the silence of prayer when the world around us is loud.

Image from slawna.com

Though Martha often receives criticism for her refusal to put down the tasks she is working on, she demonstrates hospitality through service to her family and to Jesus as she cooks and cleans. There is much value in hard work when it is offered up as a prayer (I blogged about this earlier this semester!). But when we find that we are becoming too wrapped up in worldly tasks and not spending time simply being in the presence of Christ, we are called back to being like Mary, refraining from being “worried and distracted by many things” so that we might feel joy and peace in Christ alone (Luke 10:41).

I want to encourage our campus to take these last few weeks of the semester – these sometimes-hectic days between Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks – to find the intersection of Martha and Mary. In one of my theology classes this semester, I recently learned that there is a place for both of their ways to the Lord in our lives. It is in working hard at the library in preparation for finals but in appreciating the peace of the Grotto on the way home that we can start to do this. It is in offering studying and reading and writing and grinding away on projects as prayers, inviting God into these tasks, that we can embrace the positive parts of the example Martha sets. It is in attending Mass and Adoration and engaging in personal reflection and prayer that we will seek what Mary saw. It is in finding the intersection between both of these ways of prayer that we will maintain faith and hope.

Family is Important.

As I sit on the plane on the way to watch Notre Dame play Boston College at Fenway Park in the 2015 Shamrock series game, I am struck with the very poignant point that family is important.

I am traveling to this game with a life-long friend, a sister who is not blood related, but a sister all the same. The fact that we are embarking on this adventure together is important.

Another friend who is like a sister to us both has graciously offered us her apartment for the weekend, even though she won’t be there herself for the majority of our stay and even though we’re rooting against her school. The love and hospitality she has exhibited to us as family is important.

I have spotted many Notre Dame hats, sweatshirts, and laptop stickers on the bus and at the airport during our journey to Boston so far. It is important that we are all traveling to cheer on our beloved Irish together. The Notre Dame family, who happens to have a large contingent gathered in Boston instead of South Bend on this Shamrock Series home game weekend, is important.

My friends who are not going to the game are planning various game watches in their dorm rooms and at homes of friends who are from the South Bend area. Notre Dame fans across the globe – students abroad, families, friends, and alumni at home – will get together to watch the game. They will participate in this event in a special way, even if they are unable to be there in person. The spirit, festivity, and zeal generated by the global Notre Dame family is important.

While in Boston, we plan to gather together for rituals such as Drummer’s Circle on Friday night (being held in Copley Square, Boston rather than Golden Dome, Notre Dame) and a 5K run on Saturday morning (starting and finishing at Boston Common) in anticipation of the game. The Band of the Fighting Irish will perform their usual pre-game concert on the steps (albeit on different steps than usual), a Saturdays with the Saints lecture will be given in Boston just as it would usually be on campus on game day, and there will be a Play like a Champion Today sign for the players of the Fighting Irish to tap as they emerge onto the field at Fenway. The Notre Dame fan community that has gathered in Boston this weekend will celebrate Mass together in the Cathedral of the Holy Cross, accompanied by the trumpet section of the band. We will practice the act of praise first at this Mass, and then, in a very different but not insignificant way, at the game later Saturday evening. Ritual and tradition when it comes to family help us to preserve memories of generations past and to fuel connections with those to come. Liturgy, ritual, and tradition are important.

And then we will cheer on the Fighting Irish to victory, together.

After Drummer's Circle in Copley Square 

***

This weekend, I entered into the blue-, gold-, and green-clad throng that was the Notre Dame community in Boston with a huge smile on my face and a joyful heart in my chest (alongside my doubts as to whether I would be able to successfully navigate the Boston T). It was a privilege to witness the incredible gathering of family and friends the 2015 Shamrock Series game generated and to be an active member of the zeal that is the fandom of Notre Dame football, even in a different city.

After participating in many community events throughout the twenty-four hours leading up to the big game and cheering our favorite team on to victory (yes, we still did push-ups at Fenway!), the members of the Notre Dame community present engaged in one of the most poignant moments of the importance of family of the weekend at the conclusion of the game, when the players slung their arms over one another in front of the small student section in Fenway Park and started swaying. The band played the opening notes of “Notre Dame, Our Mother.”

After all of the excitement, at the close of a tough game, and following a whole day of celebration leading up to the night game at Fenway, the Notre Dame community still took time to celebrate the members of the ultimate family in song and prayer: the Holy Family. Clumps of Notre Dame fans all over Fenway Park swayed back and forth to the time of the band’s song and the player’s movements: “And our hearts forever, / Praise thee, Notre Dame. / And our hearts forever, / Love thee, Notre Dame.”

Family is important.

Fenway Park - Boston, MA - Shamrock Series vs. Boston College 11/21/15

Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart...

I am in the University of Notre Dame Folk Choir. That phrase still sounds surreal, even when I roll it around in my mouth a bunch and say it in different voices and watch myself recite it in the mirror.

This is my first semester as an active member in the choir. And what a joyful rollercoaster ride of an experience it has been! Despite the fact that I have always had a passion for music and singing, I had never been in a choir prior to this year. I had never been instructed about tone and pitch and voice parts. I had never not sung the melody.

In a typical mixed gender choir, there are four voice parts: bass and tenor for the men and alto and soprano for the women, in ascending order of high pitch. As an alto, I occupy the lower range of the female voice parts. The sole role of my voice part, I have discovered, is to make the sopranos sound good.

My time in choir so far has been a humbling experience, to say the least. In addition to admitting that I really have no idea what I am doing in a technical sense, I have needed to learn to hang back in most songs as the three lower voice parts – bass, tenor, and alto – work together to create beautiful harmonies that make the melody voices – the sopranos – shine. At first, I’ll admit, this was a frustrating process. I struggled with a great deal of anxiety at the beginning of the semester regarding whether I had what it took to be a contributing member of the Folk Choir. Take from my heart, take from my heart, take from my heart all painful anxiety. Lord fill my heart, Lord fill my heart, Lord fill my heart with your peace.

Photo by Matt Cashore

But besides realizing that I do not sing the melody, I have also come to understand that it’s not about making certain people or certain voice parts in the choir sound “good.” It is about working together as a cohesive team to create a beautiful sound. It is about music ministry. In fact, it’s not about the Folk Choir at all. It is about the folk. And it's about faith.

This reality is modeled through our position in the Basilica of the Sacred Heart. We sing from a loft positioned above and behind the congregation, up near the ceiling. The paintings of angels and saints all over the ceiling and walls of the Basilica help to remind me weekly what our choir is there for: to invite the congregation to enter into the song and prayer of the saints and angels. Our mission is to join our prayer with those of the heavenly hosts by modeling Christian joy through our song. The music of the Folk Choir invites the community gathered each week at Mass to sing out desire, love, and gratitude for the Eucharist, together. Bread for the world: a world of hunger. Wine for all peoples: people who thirst. May we who eat be bread for others. May we who drink pour out our love.

One of my most powerful experiences in the choir so far was at the very beginning of my time in it, during the Mass over Welcome Weekend for all incoming freshmen and their families. As our choir of sixty led an entire basketball arena worth of brand-new Notre Dame family members in song, it hit me that it didn’t matter what my voice part was or if I was getting all the notes perfectly correct yet (I had been to two rehearsals in total). What mattered was my ministry of presence: my smiling, teary-eyed face that welcomed freshmen and their families into the Notre Dame family. My joy-filled song mattered. All are welcome…all are welcome…all are welcome in this place. My gratitude for the opportunity simply to be there, singing alongside some of the most joyful people I had ever met, mattered.

My daily desire to let the prayer in my heart burst forth in song matters.

The Folk Choir not only accompanies people at 11:45 a.m. Sunday Mass each week, but also at weddings, funerals, and everything in between. By November of my first semester, I have already had the privilege of offering my presence through music ministry at a whole range of occasions.

My first experience performing in front of people was with Folk Choir at our annual Concert for the Missions this October. I grew up playing piano and saxophone and public speaking in various contexts, but had never been part of such a prolonged performance prior to this concert. Having the opportunity to share our music with all of the smiling faces in attendance filled my heart with joy. We sang from risers on the altar of the Basilica, looking out over the congregation. My life goes on in endless song… The concert benefits Holy Cross missions around the world. ...Above earth’s lamentations… I kept glancing up at the empty loft, where we normally sing for 11:45 a.m. Mass every Sunday. …I hear the real, though far-off hymn… This isn’t about us!, I exclaimed internally after a few songs. Why are they looking at us and applauding for us? This is about God! …That hails a new creation. Singing in the Concert for the Missions taught me the value of providing passionate music ministry. The people in the audience were there to support the Folk Choir as a ministry, and to contribute to the Holy Cross missions. Their applause was not praise for our singing, but rather gratitude for our mission. How can I keep from singing? Our song illuminated our inner faith, and we invited those in attendance to enter into the song with us.

Photo by Matt Cashore
Concert for the Missions 2015

I had the opportunity to sing at the wedding of a beautiful couple two weeks ago. From my place in the loft, I tearfully watched as the groom welcomed his bride to the altar and greeted her father. We witnessed their exchange of vows that indicated the start of a lifetime of commitment to loving one another. In your company I’ll go, where your love and footsteps show. Thus I’ll move and live and grow in you, and you in me. We offered joy through our song, which helped family and friends of the bride and groom to more fully express their joy through the song we invited them into.

This past week, the Notre Dame community received a devastating email: a member of the junior class, Jake Scanlan, passed away unexpectedly in his sleep. The Folk Choir was asked to sing at his memorial Mass on Thursday. The sheer number of people – friends, family, and members of the community – who gathered together at his memorial was absolutely astounding. Come, all you blessed ones, blest of a loving God, enter into the joy prepared for you. In a situation where there was nothing much to say, nothing much to do, we had something to give. Jesus lives: to him the throne over all the world is given; may we go where he is gone, rest and reign with him in heaven. Alleluia. We offered hope through our song, and invited all those gathered in the overflowing church to sing. Once again, the lyrics of the Folk Choir repertoire helped to put words to the songs in our hearts - even when not much else made sense. 

Music ministry is an incredibly humbling privilege. It is not about the beauty of an individual’s voice or the talent with which they produce sound by vibrating their vocal cords. It is about the bringing together of community, the ritual of celebrating together and mourning together and experiencing everyday mundane life together. It is a joyful occasion to sing at weddings, a sobering privilege to offer the ministry of musical presence at funerals, and an honor to witness to the genius and hope of our faith through music at weekly Mass.

Hallelujah, my Father, for giving us Your Son,
Sending Him into the world to be given up for us,
Knowing we would bruise Him and smite Him from the earth, 
Hallelujah, my Father, in His death is my birth.
Hallelujah, my Father, in His life is my life.

The music of the Folk Choir has become the soundtrack to my faith life, because it has given me words with which to voice the song in my heart. I am humbled and grateful for my new family and community in song. We are a choir for the people, by the people. We exist to celebrate, witness, accompany, and bring hope and joy. Come and See. 

…Such a joy as none can move; Such a love as none can part; Such a heart as joys in love.

Photo by Matt Cashore

Included lyrics from:

"Come, My Way, my Truth, My Life" – Warner

"Take From My Heart" - Kyler/Kirner

"Bread for the World" – Farrell

"All Are Welcome" – Haugen

"How Can I Keep From Singing?" – Shaker Hymn, arr. Warner

"The Summons" – Bell

"Come, All You Blessed Ones" – Warner

"Jesus Lives" – Waddell, o.c.s.o

"Hallelujah, My Father" – Cullen
"Come and See" - Warner

What Would You Ask God?

Last week, Fr. David Scheidler, C.S.C. told me that to him, God’s voice sounds much less like Morgan Freeman and feels much more like a warm blanket being wrapped around his shoulders. Have you ever wondered what God’s voice sounds like? Do you wish you could ask God a question and hear His voice answering you? This week, my friend and fellow Campus Ministry blogger Megan and I hit campus with a notepad and camera to find out what our fellow students would ask God if they had the opportunity to ask Him one question.

Below, you'll find half of the answers we collected. See Megan's blog, Come! Live in the Light!, for the other half. I hope you enjoy reading these as much as we have enjoyed collecting them!

"How many hairs are actually on my head?"

Dani, '18

"Why am I so afraid of you right now?"

Cesar, '17

"Why does snow exist?" "Why are there camel crickets in my basement?" 

Mitch, '16 and Katie, '16

"How am I doing?" 

Marissa, '19

"How is everything so beautifully complex, but somehow goes together?" 

Dale, '16

"Can people surprise you?" 

Izzy, '17

"What's up with the octopus? Or the armadillo? Or the giraffe?"

Katie, '17

"Why do people grow up?" 

Elizabeth, '16

"What will music be like in 3015?" 

Ryan, '17

"How can I love you more fully?" 

Joe, '18

"What is the most beautiful thing humans have accomplished? And further, what is the most beautiful thing we can currently accomplish?" 

Nick, '17

"What happens to animals?" 

Jessica, '19

"What is God's favorite dance move?" 

Katie, '18

"Which is better: to be born good or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?" 

Brian, '16

"What do you want me to do?" 

Belin, '19

"Do we get to be friends forever?" 

Brittany, '18 and Sophia, '19

"What should I tell my Sunday School students about you?" 

Maria, '16

"Why do you love me?"

Bobby, '18

"When should we expect the end of the world? Which signs should we look for?" 

Cherisse, '17

"What does heaven look like?" 

Anna, '17

"What were you thinking when you made the platypus?"

Kevin, '17

"Why isn't chocolate a vegetable?" 

Emma, '16

"Why are you so confusing? How am I supposed to know what God wants when people mess up?" 

Megan, '17

"God, do people have soul mates, and if so, who is mine?" 

Michael, '17

"Why did you create humanity?"

Alex, '16

The answers Megan and I received through this project ranged from silly to serious. They left us with questions of our own, including, “What are camel crickets?” “How have I never questioned whether God made abstract things?” and “What is God calling me to?” The responses we gathered speak to something deeper as well: we always thirst to know and understand God better. Whether it is knowing God’s plan for us or understanding God’s role in the world around us, we are drawn to a particular curiosity we can only have about God. We desire to know our Creator, who is so personal and precious to us, yet vast, powerful, and beyond anything we can understand. God is utterly present to us, and also in many ways is a complete mystery.

One of our favorite more “serious” replies to our question this week (if we are allowed to choose a favorite) was, ‘“How can I bring greater glory to Your name?’ Luckily, I get the opportunity to ask this every day.” Perhaps some questions are better left unanswered directly, and rather sought through the way we live our lives. 

If you could ask God one question, what would it be? Which questions do you ask God? In which ways does He answer, and which answers remain mysteries?



Thank you to everyone who contributed to this post. We are most grateful.
If you have any questions of your own you would like to add, please comment below!

Spotlight: Fr. David Scheidler, C.S.C.

Last year, my friend Megan and I collaborated to create a post called “Religious: They’re Just LikeUs!”, which points out that people called to religious vocations are still that: people! I had the incredibly fun job of photographing religious on campus doing totally normal things, from casually riding their bikes on DeBart Quad to waiting in line at Starbucks in LaFun.

In the wake of that project, I have found myself curious about life as a priest. They’re just like us, in that they are human. But they also have a particular set of stories to share that aren’t the same as those of lay men and women. What did their calls to priesthood sound like? Did many of them date before entering the seminary? Were their family and friends supportive of their vocations? How often do they receive the sacrament of Reconciliation?

In the top left corner of my collage for the “Religious: They’re Just Like Us!” post, I included a picture of Fr. David Scheidler, C.S.C. dressed in an orange sweater (his favorite color) and dropping a bag of oranges down a flight of stairs (i.e. “Religious – They Drop Oranges Down Stairs in Orange Sweaters – They’re Just Like Us!”). This week, I had the privilege of chatting with Fr. David, the infamous orange-dropper and the Assistant Rector of the Basilica of the Sacred Heart, about some of the particular elements of his experience as a priest.

Childhood

Fr. David’s call was like a “slow but very powerfully moving train,” which began to enter his consciousness around age ten. David was not one to “play Mass” with his friends or siblings when he was young, nor did he entertain daydreams of crafting the greatest, most engaging homily ever. Rather, he did quite the opposite for a long time, insisting that he did not want to be a priest and almost looking for things that would contradict the presence of that train.

Dating

Throughout high school and college, David’s main mission was to “find himself” and his way. He attended dances with female classmates as just friends, but admittedly did keep trying to contradict the slow but powerful call to priesthood by seeing if the call to marriage would be greater. It never was. But his dating experiences from early in his life have been useful in his ministry: whenever students come to him for advice about dating, especially about whether to take the risk of pursuing romance in a friendship, he says, “always risk the friendship. Go for it.” You will never know unless you try.

Entering the seminary

After college, David was hired in New York, where he worked 60-80 hour weeks. During a year of keeping up this tough schedule, attending daily Mass kept David “sane.” The frequency with which he celebrated Mass helped him not to be so afraid of being honest about God’s working in his life. He entered the seminary the next year.

Family and friends

I asked Fr. David whether his family and friends were supportive of his choice to enter the seminary. He said one of his religion teachers had been instrumental in encouraging him in theology classes, and when he informed her about his decision, she simply said, “It’s about time.” Some of his family had similar reactions. It was almost as if he was the last one to accept his call, and that people who knew him best had already hopped aboard the slow, powerfully moving train.

Fr. David shared a story that gave me chills: at the vocational fair at his home parish the year previous to his decision to enter the seminary, both of his parents had individually written down his name as someone they wanted the parish to keep in their prayers regarding vocations. Their prayers had been answered. While many of his friends were surprised when he announced his decision to enter the seminary and a few of his siblings were at first taken aback at how differently their sibling relationships would look in adulthood due to his choice, everyone was ultimately extremely supportive.

Being one of eight siblings, Fr. David has 43 nieces and nephews. Even though he does not have children of his own to raise alongside those of his siblings (the Scheidlers grew up knowing their cousins as almost another set of siblings, so this had been a long-anticipated family experience), he has had the unique privilege of playing a special part in the life of his family due to his priesthood in ways he would not otherwise be able to. He has been the celebrant at six weddings for his siblings and has ministered the vast majority of the 43 baptisms of his nieces and nephews. He is affectionately known as “Uncle David” to the 43, not as “Fr. David,” as he is to the rest of us. He explained how neat it is to watch the wonder on the youngest faces of the clan as they watch him say Mass and try to put together the pieces. Recently, one three-year-old niece chanted his name over and over again during Mass, as if cheering him on while he led the congregation in the celebration of the Word and the Eucharist.

The privilege of priesthood

“If you tried to deny your call for a while when you were younger,” I wondered out loud to Fr. David during our conversation, “when was it that you discovered that you wanted to be a priest?”

“The day after my ordination,” he laughed.

After accepting his call to priesthood, David obediently followed it, knowing that his vocation was to religious life. And while in the seminary, he continually prayed for the grace to eventually want to be a priest himself.

It was during the first mass he said, an 11:45am Folk Choir Mass at the Basilica of the Sacred Heart the day after he was ordained, that his prayer was answered. He realized the people in the congregation were looking to him, but not at him. “It’s not me they’re looking at. They want to see Christ.” Fr. David explained that he is “so grateful that [he] didn’t let [his] own ego and fears and pride stand in the way of God’s call,” and remarked that he views priesthood as a “profound privilege.”

God’s presence

“What does God’s voice sound like? Is Morgan Freeman an accurate representation?”

Fr. David explained that he does not hear God’s voice as a physical sound, but rather feels His presence. This presence is akin to a warm blanket being hugged around his shoulders from behind. What a beautiful image. The feeling of being wrapped up in God’s presence arrives as a comforting confirmation in Fr. David’s life.

“If I had to assign a voice to God, though,” Fr. David explained, “it would be my grandmother’s voice.” Sweet, cozy, and comforting. Kind of like a warm blanket. And what does Fr. David have draped over the chair at his desk? A Notre Dame blanket.

Reconciliation

Fr. David hears confessions at least once a week at the Basilica, if not more. I was curious about how often he got to receive the sacrament of Reconciliation himself. According to the constitution of the Holy Cross order, Holy Cross priests are to engage in “lifelong examination” and “lifelong growth,” receiving the sacrament themselves an “appropriately frequent” amount. For Fr. David, an ideal amount would be once a month. In reality, he goes about every three months.

Interestingly, Fr. David shared that he feels it is in fact possible to go to confession too frequently. For some individuals, going to confession too often shifts their focus to the force of sin in their lives, rather than focusing on God’s grace and mercy. It is key for each individual to find a healthy balance when it comes to this sacrament.

Why Holy Cross?

My final question to Fr. David was simple. Why did he choose the Holy Cross order?

After hearing some background about his family life growing up, it is not surprising that the community element of the Holy Cross order was extremely attractive to him.

The first saint from the Congregation of Holy Cross, Brother Andre Bessette, was the humble doorkeeper at Notre Dame College in Montreal for 40 years. His vocation was to welcome and love others. St. Andre’s welcoming disposition is indicative of those of so many other Holy Cross brothers, which is what first appealed to Fr. David.

                 

And, he smiled, his brothers are “so consistently wise, insightful, and happy.”