Happy Easter! Alleluia! He is Risen!

What do Easter joy and Christian hope mean in the time of Covid-19, when Churches are closed as quarantine continues? 

Hope-in-God (in the theological-sense) is not the same thing as hope in the human-sense.

The human-sense of hope is basically having an optimistic state of mind, anticipating or expecting positive outcomes in life.

Our human-sense of hope has been beaten down by the pandemic, by the isolation, by the cancellations and closures. No kidding, the human-sense of hope is having a difficult time not celebrating Easter in Church.

It’s in this space between the human-sense of hope and the theological-sense of hope-in-God that we find Mary Magdalene showing up to anoint the body on the Third Day.

Perhaps Mary Magdalene didn’t recognize the Resurrected Jesus because she was looking through the eyes of human-hope. Jesus had to help her to see through the eyes of Christian-hope. 

The Good News, the Easter Joy, is that the goodness of God will conquer evil. God will transform pain and suffering into new life and goodness.

Christian-hope is trusting in God’s abiding presence and the promise of God’s goodness.

The Hope of the Resurrection–the true Easter Joy–is about trusting God to (somehow) bring goodness out of this.

Each of us have seen small blessings begin to emerge… like the decrease in air pollution allowing India to see the Himalayas for the first time in decades.

What goodness (small or large) have you observed or experienced that points to the transforming power of God?

Recognizing and rejoicing in these are goodnesses can help us better recognize God’s grace and better cultivate Christian hope.

Happy Easter! Alleluia! He is Risen!

Banner Artwork “Alleluia” ©Jen Norton. https://www.JenNortonArtStudio.com . Used with permission.  

If you enjoyed this post, Please Share

Did you know that the last party or social gathering that you attended would, in fact be the last one for the foreseeable future?

When reading the Gospel accounts of the Last Supper, it’s pretty evident that the Apostles had no idea it would be their last. Yet what happened while they shared the Passover meal with Jesus would be remembered and celebrated as the first: the Institution of the Eucharist.

Then he took the bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which will be given for you; do this in memory of me.” And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which will be shed for you.” (Lk 22:19-20)

The Last Supper is the focus of the Church’s celebration on Holy Thursday. Yet for almost all of us, this will be a Holy Thursday without the Eucharist.

For anyone planning to watch the liturgy at home, since it’s a Holy Thursday without the presence of the people, it’ll also be a Holy Thursday without the Rite of the Washing of Feet.

I always found it interesting that while the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke provide the details about the Last Supper, the Gospel of John does not. Instead, John cuts to the meaning of the Last Supper: humble service.

So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. (Jn 13:14-15)

In the time of Covid-19, while we celebrate a Holy Thursday without so many things, let’s really turn our attention to humble service.

As a society, we’ve been doing a better job of recognizing and appreciating the humble service of so many of whom we’ve never even realized were essential employees! From health care, to supermarkets, to truckers and delivery persons, to police and first responders, to teachers…

How can you express gratitude for the humble service of others?

Amid so much grief and suffering that we cannot control, there are countless acts of humble service happening all around us, from making and donating reusable masks, to checking on and caring for neighbors, to finding ways to celebrate kids’ accomplishments and birthdays, to the sharing of musical talents, to the distribution of meals…

Where have you seen examples of humble service to others?

So on a Holy Thursday without so, so many things, perhaps you can find a way to be in communion with Christ through acts of humble service… (even if that service is a matter of reframing your interactions with those you are trapped at home with) …remember that Christ is present in these acts of service and sacrificial love.

Christ has given you an example; how will you humbly serve others?

Banner Artwork “Last Supper” ©Jen Norton. https://www.JenNortonArtStudio.com . Used with permission.  

If you enjoyed this post, Please Share

The only thing worse than the actual struggle of going through a difficult time is feeling completely isolated in the struggle. Unless, of course, you like to also compare your struggling with others (who certainly have it worse than you) and minimize your own pain because it always helps to pile guilt onto the sense of isolation to reduce that suffering.

This is what is happening in Covid-19.

It honestly doesn’t matter how bad you do or don’t have it. We are all suffering right now. We are all grieving for normalcy.

So let’s just stop right there. Nowhere in Scripture does the God of Life and Redeemer of the World minimize or compare suffering. Instead, Scripture presents us with invitations and affirmations, especially in the Passion and Death of Christ.

Focus, for a moment, on the image of Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Jesus knew what was happening, and he knew it was about to get a lot worse before it got better.

Let the very fact that “knowledge” caused Jesus grief affirm you; this is hard.

Jesus prays and asks his closest friends to pray, telling them: “I am deeply grieved,” and “The sorrow in my heart is so great that it almost crushes me” (Mt 26:38 NRSV and GNT).

Jesus models speaking truth to your closest friends… 

…gives permission to speak the truth of your heart to God… 

Jesus prays, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me…” (Lk 22:42).

…petitions God for the deepest longings of the heart…

…asks clearly and directly…

Jesus concludes,  “…yet, not my will but yours be done” (Lk 22:42).

…invites trust in God…

…models surrendering to God.

In our agony, in our suffering, in our frustrations, in our confusion, God sees us. God is with us. Angels are ministering to us. And God will redeem this.

If you enjoyed this post, Please Share

While listening to our Pastor proclaim the Gospel as we watched our Parish’s Palm Sunday Mass on YouTube, my 12-year-old asked, “But wait–why are we reading about the crucifixion and death now. Isn’t that what happens on Good Friday?”

Yes. Yes, it is. Palm Sunday begins with Jesus’ Triumphant Entrance into Jerusalem as the crowds sing “Hosanna in the Highest” and wave their palm branches. And then we are plunged into the solemness of Holy Week.

That tension from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows is stark… it’s uncomfortable… and it’s exactly the point.

In light of the pandemic, take a moment to reflect on your experience of this stark contrast in your own life. Think back to February or early March… recall the events, activities, travels, and celebrations that you had on your calendar.

• What were you looking forward to with joyful anticipation?

Think of the disciples watching the One they know to be the Messiah and Son of God entering the Holy City of Jerusalem surrounded by glory and praise… and within days, he is arrested and crucified.

Before stepping more deeply in to the Passion, realize that having joyful anticipation abruptly cut down—that very sense of disappointment—is a crucial part of our Palm Sunday liturgy. We are all feeling it; we have all felt it, including Jesus and his disciples.

Allow this jarring experience and sense of profound disappointment to be an entry point into the Passion as we begin Holy Week.

Let Jesus meet you where you are.

Banner Artwork ©Jen Norton. https://www.JenNortonArtStudio.com . Used with permission.  LEGO design and photograph by the same 12 year old son who asked the opening question https://www.instagram.com/todayinlegocity/.

If you enjoyed this post, Please Share

Having hope in a time of crisis is not easy. Hope is rooted in truth, and the truth is, things are not easy right now.

Let’s be clear: having hope is not foolish optimism detached from the reality at hand. Rather, it has to do with trusting in the promises of God… which is hard… which is why it’s called a virtue (and not a given).

Hope—trusting in the promises of God—is intertwined in trusting in God’s goodness. On Friday, Pope Francis spoke about this very dynamic in his meditation on the calming of the storm from Mark 4:35-41 (full text and video here). Caught in a violent storm, the disciples, who are experienced, life-long fishermen, fear for their lives while Jesus is lays sleeping.

Pope Francis honed in on the spiritual struggle so many of us have in the midst of a storm like Coronavirus and quarantine: “Like the disciples in the Gospel we were caught off guard by an unexpected, turbulent storm.” Like the disciples, our faith in God is evident in the way we call out to God. However, in the midst of a storm so violent that people fear for their lives, sometimes we question God’s goodness. We cannot understand it and question if God cares about us. Fear threatens our trust in God’s goodness.

Trusting in God’s goodness opens our hearts to hope. In a time of crisis and fear, we need to remind ourselves and each other that there is abundant evidence of God’s goodness at work.

In the language of faith, this is the Paschal Mystery – God works with us, in us, and through us as vessels of grace to one another. Even in the midst of chaos and crisis, we can see goodness.

In the language of Mr. Roger’s Mom, “Look for the helpers.”

Name and claim the goodness and joy that you observe. Know that God is the source of all goodness. Believe that the Holy Spirit empowers us to be vessels of grace,

Recall the insight from the Raising of Lazarus: we have faith not in a God who rescues us; we have faith in a God who Redeems. We have faith in a God who is the source of all goodness; who respects our freedom enough to let things unfold… even difficult, painful, stressful things. Because our God Redeems.

God doesn’t do evil to achieve good (or to teach lessons). God doesn’t intend, rejoice in, or plan for suffering. God redeems it.

And we have faith in a God who Redeems.

Cultivating Hope

Trusting in a God who Redeems is at the root of the virtue of hope, and like all virtues, we can strengthen and grow in hope with practice.

Here one practice that we have been doing in our family to cultivate hope:

The Rose: Every night, when we gather for family dinner, we pray “The Rose,” which is a family-friendly, loose adaptation of St. Ignatius Loyola’s Examen. I have always appreciated the way the Rose allows us to hear about aspects of each other’s day that we otherwise wouldn’t.

(Note: if you cannot see the image above, and/or if you would like a printable copy of The Rose, click here.)

• Rose: Naming the bits of laughter and joy, the successes (no matter how small), the connections… Naming goodness and grace is essential to the spiritual practice of gratitude. Do it every night while eating dinner. Share your gratitude for goodness with one another.
• Bud: For my boys, anticipation of joyful experiences is just as (if not more) exciting than the experience itself. Naming our buds lifts our spirits. However. In the time of Covid-19, when all the things we usually look forward to have been cancelled, it’s becoming more and more difficult to identify things to look forward to. Which is why it’s becoming more and more crucial to our spiritual well-bring. Yes, most of our “buds” have looking forward to upcoming Zoom calls with friends… and getting to the other side of the Coronavirus! This is going to take some effort, but it’s also key to cultivating hope!
• Thorn: As I wrote in How Are You, it’s also important to be real about the struggles in your day. Articulating your thorn is prayer when that lament is directed to God, trusting in His goodness. Need some guidance there? Check out the Psalms.
• Root: As a family, we join together in specifically praying for people by name… and praying for an end to this pandemic.

What are you doing to cultivate hope today?

If you enjoyed this post, Please Share

Ironically, for as difficult as it is in this time of social distancing, isolation, and quarantine, at least we’re all in it together.

Be reassured: No one knows how to do this. No one knows what they’re doing. We’re all figuring it out together.

In my last two posts, I talked about needing to Reevaluate Lent and my decision to Be Real and Have Hope (with key insights from the story of the Raising of Lazarus). So here’s me being real: I’ve been going through a difficult time and things have been hard.

Here’s Me Being Real

About 9 months ago, I wrote about my son suffering 2nd degree burns. Five weeks later, I wrote one follow-up post. But nothing else because… it was just too much. It was just too hard.

While in the Pediatric ICU, the doctors said 2nd degree burns heal within 2-3 weeks. So, 2-3 weeks is what we mentally geared ourselves up for.

It was actually 3 months of daily wound care and intense restrictions. The most severe 2nd degree burns (“deep partial-thickness”) take longer to heal and leave thick, raised scars, which need another 18 months of care, including wearing compression garments for 23 hours a day. It was a lot. It took a toll on everyone, in every way.

Believe me: I’m not complaining. All you need to do is walk into any floor of Shriner’s Pediatric Burn Hospital to have every possible complaint in your life be put into perspective.

However, this was—and still is—our reality. And quite honestly, it was hard… really, really hard.

How Are You?

When we see people out and about, most of us greet each other with, “Hi! How are you?” Generally, Americans subconsciously intend this to be a surface-level, friendly greeting. Generally, in the aisles of the supermarket, we are not inquiring about the status of a person’s mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual well-being. It’s not to say that we don’t actually care about each other. It’s just… usually, if we’re genuinely interested and aware that the standard answers of “good,” “fine,” or “alright,” aren’t actually the expected answer, we’ll lean-in and give permission to be truthful with something akin to, “No, really; how are you?”

For a long time, my honest answer wasn’t, “Good!” It wasn’t even, “Fine,” (which my mother considers to be a four-letter word). For a long time, I was struggling. And my personal integrity was taking a hit by answering with anything less than the truth – because things were just so hard. Eventually, I settled on a non-answer, “Hey! Good to see you!” or with a swivel, “Busy! How about you?”

The lenten promise to Be Real was born out of this struggle. For the sake of my sanity and integrity (aka—mental and spiritual health), I eventually decided I would be real with anyone I knew would want to know… whether they were prepared for it or not. I had a lot of conversations that started with me stumbling over expressing the truth: “Good! No. Actually, I’m not good. Things are hard.”

Speaking Truth

When I started “being real” and speaking the truth, I started to open the door to unexpected love and grace.

No. Wait. Actually, a caveat: Not everyone is entitled to know the truth. And frankly, not everyone can handle the truth.

No joke. Some people are really bad at this.

But more often than not, I found support, love, and compassion. Sometimes I’d lay out my truth with a voice-quivering, “Things are hard.” Then I’d purse my lips and shake my head—tears might fall—and I’d whisper, “Can’t talk about it. Pray. How are you?”

Speaking truth opened the door to community; I wasn’t so alone.

Yes. This is hard.

We are all struggling with this “new normal” (which is hard), for an undetermined amount of time (which is—speaking from experience here—really, really hard).

It’s been a relief to hear more and more people being real and acknowledging that this is hard.

Acknowledging that this is hard doesn’t mean you’re complaining. Nor does it mean you’re lacking in faith or trust in God.

Take a look at the exchange between Jesus and Peter in Matthew 16, right after the big question “Who do you say that I am?” (v.15) and Peter’s profound confession of faith. This is when Jesus begins to get real with the disciples, predicting the his suffering and death (v.21).

When Jesus speaks these difficult truths, he’s not complaining. He’s not lacking in faith or trust in God.

In fact, it’s Peter who lacks faith and trust in the one whom he just confessed to be the Messiah! Peter refuses to hear the difficult truth and rebukes Jesus: “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you” (Mt 16:22).

Jesus has no tolerance for telling himself (and others) a lie that will make everybody feel better. Because although the pain and suffering of the Passion and Death will be hard, that is not the end of the story. (More on that another day.)

We’re all in this together

There is tremendous grace in hearing others being real and speaking truth. We’re reminded that we’re not alone. We’re reminded that we’re not doing it wrong. And in the broken Body of Christ, we’re reminded that our Savior is with us in our suffering, present to us through one another.

• Is there someone you can call (old-school phone or Zoom) and be real about the things you’re finding most difficult right now?
• Really. How are you?

If you enjoyed this post, Please Share

Being Real and Having Hope

By “be real,” I mean to courageously acknowledge the truth of what is going on – in the world, in my community, and in my home – which includes honestly accounting for feelings, whether anxiety and sadness or laughter and love. Therein, it’s the humility to be real with both joys and sorrows… with both success and struggle… with both death and Resurrection… with myself, with others (including my kids) and with God.

By “have hope,” I mean to continually have faith in the transforming power of God in the Paschal Mystery. To hope is to both trust in God and to actively cooperate with God’s grace. Hope is a bit of an elusive virtue for many of us. We tend to take it to one of two unhelpful extremes, with either too much reliance on self (while lacking trust in God) or too much professed reliance on God (without bothering to discern how God may be calling us to cooperate with grace).

I need to, I want to, and I have to do both: be real and have hope. To only focus on one without the other leads to more unhealthy extremes: negativity-and-panic… or saccharine-sweet-rainbow-unicorns. (Read more about the virtue of hope here.)

The Raising of Lazarus

The Gospel for the 5th Sunday in Lent, the Raising of Lazarus (John 11:1-45), speaks to both “being real” and “having hope.”

Jesus receives word from his good friends, Martha and Mary that their brother Lazarus is ill. But instead of rushing off, Jesus curiously stays where he is for two more days. By the time they arrive in Bethany, Lazarus has been dead for four days. First Martha (v.21) and then Mary (v.32) each greet Jesus by, saying “If you had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died.”

How many times have we similarly lamented, “Why? Why didn’t God do something to stop this?” Even now, amid the Coronavirus pandemic, how many of us have wondered “Why has God allowed this to happen?!”

In The Passion and the Cross, Ronald Rolheiser, OMI redirects our “Whys?” simply and succinctly: Because our God is a fellow-sufferer and a Redeemer, not a Rescuer.

“God doesn’t ordinarily intervene to save us from humiliation, pain, and death; rather, he redeems humiliation, pain, and death after the fact” (38).

Honestly articulating our questions and struggles directly to Jesus is being real, but Martha and Mary don’t stop there. They don’t just speak their sorrow. Immediately following her lament, “If you had been here…” Martha models having hope: “But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you” (John 11:22).

And Jesus. Even though he knew he was about to raise Lazarus from the dead, we find Jesus deeply troubled by the reality of the situation. It’s here that we read the shortest verse in all of Scripture, “And Jesus wept” (John 11:35). Talk about being real with emotion!

Having hope in a God who Redeems (not rescues) means that things might not unfold as we would expect. Things certainly didn’t unfold the way Martha and Mary expected. Nor did things unfold the way the disciples expected following the Crucifixion.

Having hope in a God who Redeems means we are open to goodness and grace – especially when we least expect it!

(More on that in the next post!)

• Are you able to be real and have hope about your joys and sorrows in the midst of all that is going on? (Or do you find yourself going to unhelpful extremes?)
• Do you expect God to be a rescuer?

If you enjoyed this post, Please Share

After the video of UCLA gymnast Katelyn Ohashi’s “perfect 10” floor routine went viral, NPR interviewed her head coach, Valerie Kondos Field about her character and skill.

Katelyn had almost given up on the sport. “The elite level came at a price. Not just the injuries, but the body-shaming and the cut-throat competition that left her questioning her self-worth” (NPR’s Morning Edition).

Coach Val became a catalyst for change in Katelyn, who had stopped loving the sport at age 11. How? At the 1:40 mark in the two-minute interview, Coach Val utters the sentence that says it all:

“I cared about her more as a human being than as an athlete.”

And that was everything.

Caring more about a person’s humanity than about the role they play, regardless of the context, is the essence of respect for human dignity.

Want to know how to live your faith in the secular workplace? Care about people more as human beings than as coworkers and employees.

How does every single faculty and staff member live out the Catholic Identity of the school? Care about people more as human beings than as students and colleagues.

It really is that easy.

Care for a person’s well-being more than the function they provide.

Stop using people as objects. Stop objectifying the body for the sake of athletic or advertising success. Stop shaming. Stop the competition that leaves people questioning their self-worth.

We don’t have to choose between people and profit, between personal well-being and excellence, between compassion and success.

In fact, look at the results: not only does Katelyn’s routine earn a “perfect 10,” not only has the video of her performance gone viral, but in the words of Coach Val, “She just exudes goodness and love and joy.”

Be a catalyst: care about a person more as a human being than anything they can do.

If you enjoyed this post, Please Share

In Part 1, I told the story of how I ended up at my undergraduate college as a theology major, explaining three indications that it just might be the work of the Holy Spirit:

1. A series of uncanny coincidences with impeccable timing
2. Realizing you have a passion about something
3. Feeling certain that you need to follow your passion, even if you’re unsure of how to proceed.

Part 2 explained that: 

1. Saying “Yes-But-No” (or “Not right now”) to the Holy Spirit doesn’t really work.
2. Actually Living Out Your Passion involves taking some leaps of faith.
3. Sometimes Things Fall Apart, but God is still at work.

As Dr. Seuss writes in Oh the Places You Will Go

It is tempting to think that Things Falling Apart is an indication that you have chosen the wrong path.  Sometimes, yes – that’s what it means (particularly when we say Yes-But-No to the Spirit).  Other times, no – not so much.  Rather, it’s the same path, only a different direction.  It’ll take some more story-telling to explain what I mean.  So on to Part 3.

Living the Dream

I mentioned in Part 2 that “I took the initiative to pursue a dream to go to…Boston College.”  I had held this dream for years, but kept making excuses for why it couldn’t happen: finances, time, relationships, etc.  But it stayed in my thoughts and in my heart.

The Holy Spirit speaks to us through our innermost desires and passions.  Gently nudging us along… until we don’t listen.  Then the Spirit smacks us upside the head. (I’m a tad stubborn, so I get smacked upside the head by the Spirit quite a bit.)  Which is how I ended up at Boston College.  It took an unhealthy work environment, the encouragement of a boyfriend, and the voices of two separate friends from different areas of my life to get me to even apply.

My time at BC was fantastic; the course-work and the community were exactly what I needed.  It gave voice and clarity to the leanings of my pedagogy (educational theory and practice) while deepening my background in theology.

with Tom Groome

While I was in Boston, I continued to long-distance-date the areospace engineer I had met in Austin (which is really hard to do with a guy that doesn’t talk on the phone).  Peter had since completed his PhD and moved to the Washington DC area to work with NASA Goddard.  Somehow (I seriously don’t remember how), I was given the opportunity to help represent BC’s program at a conference in Washington DC. (I loved my program at BC so much, I would have happily gone anywhere to do this for them, but bonus: free airfare and time to visit Peter!)

“Thy Will Be Done” (Not My Will Be Done)

While explaining BC’s program to various people, I meet Malcolm.  His name tag tells me he’s a teacher at a school in Maryland.  I mention that I will be finishing my degree in the summer, moving to this area, and looking for a job.  He says he works for The Best Catholic High School in the region, and they are looking for a new Religion Teacher for the following school year.  While we exchanged information, I was pretty sure this was the first time I actually recognized the Work of the Holy Spirit while it was happening.

Met with the Principal.  Fell in love with the school.  However, she wanted to hire me as the school’s first full-time Campus Minister.  In addition to retreats and liturgies, the first big task the Religion Department needed was an overhaul of the Service Learning Program.

It just so happened that my Master’s Thesis was on Service Learning, but this direction wasn’t what I had in mind.  My love and passion were for teaching.  This is one of the many examples in my life where I had a hard time embracing God’s plan because it wasn’t exactly matching up with my plan.

You know the story of the Rich Young Man?

When I (eventually) said yes, I was comforted by the idea that I would at least be teaching one class.  So I finished my time at Boston College, moved to Maryland, and started working at Seton.

Listening to the Voice Within (Or Not)

While my thesis had help me create a substantive Service Learning Program grounded in Scripture and Tradition, my professors at Boston College had also helped me know that it would be necessary to prepare the community for a paradigm shift in attitudes in order for the program to be successful.

Unfortunately, I didn’t listen to the voice within.  I wanted to educate the whole community about both What the changes were and Why there were going to be changes.  The Principal said there wasn’t a need because these changes were considered a Religion Department policy.  I should have insisted.  I knew better.  But I was already so busy working with students and parents, so I conceded.

One of the reasons Seton is such a fantastic school is the community.  The faculty care deeply about the students whole well-being.  So when the students reacted strongly against the changes, (some many) of the faculty reacted along with them.  It was hard on me.  It took over a year of fighting the good fight (with the Principal always having my back, as she said she would) to get the whole community on board.  It happened (commitment to service became integral to the school’s identity); but it didn’t have to be so hard.

What was easy, though, was teaching.  The one little class I had was the highlight of my day, every day.  After a couple of years, I did listen to the voice within and asked to shift to more-teaching and less-campus ministry.  Yes, it helped that the voice within was encouraging me to do what I wanted.  But still.  I listened.

I certainly listened to the Spirit when Peter and I married.

Seton’s Gospel Choir sang at our wedding, and two of my students were part of a liturgical dance that my friend Susan choreographed.

Through the ADL (and with the support of Seton), I was able to participate in the March of the Living in Poland.

In this March, Jewish high school students and Catholic educators joined Holocaust survivors in the two mile walk from the smaller camp of Auschwitz to the massive concentration camp of Birkenau.

What was once a march of death (to the gas chambers) has become a March of Life and commitment to Never Again.

Later that same year, I participated in the ADL’s Bearing Witness Advanced in Israel, which again deepened my passion and enriched my understanding of the Holocaust, Judaism, and antisemitism.

at the Sea of Galilee

Sunrise hike up Masada

Praying at the Western Wall

on the camel everyone gets a picture riding after climbing Masada and floating in the Dead Sea

I think it is safe to say that my parents no longer wondered what I would do with a degree in theology.

To recap:

• The Holy Spirit speaks to us through our innermost desires and passions.  Live the dream by listening to that.
• Sometimes God’s plan is slightly different from your plan.  Be open to it.
• Listen to the voice within.  That’s the work of the Spirit as well.

Boston T Party 114 – Boston College by Michael Femia licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

If you enjoyed this post, Please Share

In Part 1, I told the story of how I ended up at my undergraduate college as a theology major, explaining three indications that it just might be the work of the Holy Spirit:

1. A series of uncanny coincidences with impeccable timing
2. Realizing you have a passion about something
3. Feeling certain that you need to follow your passion, even if you’re unsure of how to proceed.

And #3’s Certain Yet Unsure is where Part 2 picks up.  

Yes-But-No

I was graduating with a BA in Theology, certain I was called to teach, but doubtful that I could find a job.  So I made my first big mistake with the Holy Spirit: I said “Yes, but No.  It can’t happen.  I’ll do it eventually, but I can’t right now.  I’m not qualified.”

So I graduated and started working in Telecommunications, training people to use their business telephone and voicemail systems. It wasn’t theology, but at least it wasn’t (as Lloyd Dobler explains in Say Anything) “selling anything, buying anything, or processing anything.”

Um, let me turn off this episode of Little House on the Prairie.

YES, I am interested.

I interviewed with the Archdiocese who promised that following my short-term sub assignment, they definitely had long-term and ultimately permanent positions available, should I be interested.

Thus began my teaching career.

Living Out the Passion

While I was confident that this was the path for me, I was still apprehensive. There was a lot I didn’t know about my subject area.  And I lacked the educational training.

So I went for it.  I taught five classes of high school seniors in the biggest Catholic school in Philadelphia.  I poured my heart into my lessons and presented with the passion and excitement that led me to the field.  I used my organizational skills to clearly explain my expectations.  And I had a great team of colleagues to turn to for advice.  I didn’t have many problems with classroom management; though I probably should have written a few more students up for behavior than I did.

I found the “sweet-spot” of teaching – that “Ah-ha! Moment” – to be exhilarating.  This was it.  I was doing what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

And Then Things Fell Apart

Just a month into the following school year, my life fell apart.  Like crisis-of-faith, deep-depression,  pick-up-the-shattered-pieces-of-my-life-and-move-across-the-country “fell apart.”

So, I finished teaching the semester, moved to Texas to be with my family, and committed to healing and rebuilding my life on a happier and healthier foundation.

After spending a few months working in telecommunications (isn’t it amazing that I had that skill-set under my belt and had a “real job” within weeks of my arrival?), I started teaching again in the only Catholic high school in Austin at that time (isn’t it amazing that such a small school had a position available for me the following school year?).

Possibly the first picture ever taken of us

The atmosphere of my job had changed substantially. So much so that I took the initiative to pursue a dream to go to graduate school. I can’t quite explain why, but the deepest desires of my heart yearned for Boston College. A colleague asked me which program I was interested in, and without much thought, I replied: the Masters in Theology. Erin encouraged me to look into the IREPM – a program designed for people like me, called the Institute of Pastoral Ministry and Religious Education. Consequentially, a friend of mine from undergrad–Susan–had been telling me the same thing. Of course, when I looked in to it, the program was exactly what I wanted and needed.  (The IREPM has since become part of Boston College’s School of Theology and Ministry.)

Once again, I’m going to pause here and draw attention to a few themes:

• Saying “Yes-But-No” to the Holy Spirit doesn’t really work.  Kind of like Jonah and the Big Fish, God will get God’s way with you eventually.


• Actually Living Out Your Passion may involve taking some leaps of faith.  Trust like Moses, pray like Solomon.  It’s worth it.


• Sometimes Things Fall Apart.  God is still at work in your life.  Pick up the pieces and move on.  God moves with you (and for you, and through you, but that’s another post).

“Students and tutor in class © Depositphotos.com/monkeybusiness”

If you enjoyed this post, Please Share