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Focusing on Christ

Written by Elise Huber on Wednesday of Holy Week

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit: Dear Lord, Thank you for the sunshine today and how it warmed my body and soul. Thank you for the great conversation I had with my sister that made me feel relaxed and forget about my stress in that moment. Help me to feel more peaceful about my future and be okay with the unknown…. Should I have submitted that application for the job next year? I don’t know. What about my classes? I can’t focus anymore. That is exam is coming up and I am not ready. Oh, and I need to write that paper. Where is my computer?…

This Lent has been blurred. My prayer quickly dwindles away as distractions compete for my attention. I have not been able to focus on my work or on God. My mind travels too fast which ultimately leaves me feeling alone and unaccomplished.

Despite the difficulties, I still would not call this a failed Lent. Instead I see it as a stagnant Lent. I have stood still looking around trying to focus on where God is working in my life and find some direction to follow. Only, my vision has been blurred.

Now we have entered Holy week and are reminded of the story of our Lord’s Passion. In today’s reading we hear about Judas and I can only imagine that he was experiencing the same lack of focus and that his vision was clouded by the views of the world.

“What are you willing to give me if I hand him over to you?”

Not long after he asks that clouded question, I can only imagine that his vision is quickly pulled into focus as he realizes what is happening and as he witnesses our Lord giving His life to save us. I have been distracted like Judas and Holy Week is giving me an awakening of the purpose of life. Christ is about to come into focus.

Questions for Reflection:
What has clouded your vision of Christ?
How do you relate with Judas as you experience Holy Week? How do you relate with Judas as you look back on your Lenten journey?

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Elise Huber
Elise is a senior at the University of Michigan studying Ecology and Evolutionary Biology with future plans to attend medical school to become a primary care physician. In addition to medicine, Elise is passionate about building community and growing in faith through conversations such as those in Small Church Communities (SCC). She joined her first SCC her freshman year and fell in love with the program. She has been honored to serve St. Mary Student Parish as the SCC intern this year.
Email: [email protected]

Written on my Heart

Written by Jeff Hatgas on Tuesday of Holy Week

This past semester, I spent a lot of time researching and implementing team building exercises in an attempt to re-energize the retreat team training that my office has used for years.  I thought that all of this work would pay off in a greater depth of sharing from the students.  Yet, when it was all said and done, I was left seeing the same results.  Honestly, as someone who does this for work, I was deflated.  All I could think was, “Where did I go wrong?” To make matters worse, for a retreat focused entirely on one’s unique call by God, I felt that I was stumbling on my own path toward ministry.

As I took some more time to sit and meditate on this experience, the initial feelings settled down, and I was able to see things more clearly.  Sure, I might have “toiled in vain” (as we see in today’s first reading) with regards to my overarching expectations, but despite this, there were moments of grace in the process.  I needed to take time to redirect my gaze to the little moments–the joy of my own learning, the witnessing of the growth over time in the students leaders, and having yet another reminder for my need to hold myself gently in all things. Although this particular moment felt like a failure—because of the way I had framed it—I know that my that it’s important to take a wider view with the work that I’m doing.  Once I do that, I can sense that it’s bearing fruit—even if I can’t always see it.

This memory is a jolt to my system in remembering that no one has ever gotten through life without bumps along the road. Working through this experience, has helped me to reorient myself toward what I may be invited to by God. It is also a reminder for me to process both the joys and pains of my life with others as I continue to discern the name God has so tenderly written on my heart.

Questions for Reflection:
What do you do to bounce back from disappointment?
How do your experiences help orient you to your unique calling?

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Jeff Hatgas
Jeff is currently pursuing his Masters in Theology and Ministry at the Boston College School of Theology and Ministry. He worked as a Peer Minister at St. Mary Student Parish during the 2013-2014 academic year.
Email: [email protected]

Slowing Down

Written by Andrew Zak on Monday of Holy Week

Yesterday we celebrated Palm Sunday. At the beginning of Mass we were singing Hosanna’s and proclaiming Jesus as our king. And less than 10 minutes later, we heard how he was betrayed by Judas, denied by Peter, falsely accused and sentenced, forced to carry a cross, and put to death. In the longest Gospel reading of the year, one great irony is that everything in the life of Jesus seems to happen so fast at this time. In less than 24 hours Jesus goes from sharing a meal with his disciples to sharing Himself totally for us. And so much in between.

How do we even begin to contemplate all that has taken place?

Stop. Breathe. And for a moment, just be.

There is a lot to take in, especially from the Gospel we just heard yesterday. While Palm Sunday may be a shock to our system in some sense, it quickly puts Holy Week in perspective. But in the coming days, we will experience these same events again, only this time a bit more slowly during the Triduum. So what’s in these first few days of Holy Week, in the “calm before the storm” if you will?

Perhaps it’s a chance to catch our breath. To bring our Lenten preparation to a culmination. To begin our journey with Jesus through His suffering, through His dying, and through His rising.

On this Monday of Holy Week, let us ask God for the grace to enter more deeply into His saving act of merciful love.

Questions for Reflection:
Where am I on my personal journey with Jesus at the start of Holy Week?
How can I be open to receiving God’s love and mercy this week?

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Andrew Zak
Andrew graduated with his Bachelor’s (2014) and Master’s (2015) Degrees in Chemical Engineering from Cleveland State University. He moved to Ann Arbor in the fall of last year to start his PhD in Chemical Engineering at U of M. Andrew enjoys being actively involved at Saint Mary’s as a catechist and sharing great food and conversation with the Grad Student & Young Professional group. When he’s not in the lab or at Saint Mary’s, he can likely be found on the basketball court.
Email: [email protected]

Called to Audition: You Have Been Cast

Written by Fr. John Ferone, SJ on Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion

There is one drama, one story: OUR story; the story of the body of Christ as it continues to unfold in every age, and we play all the roles.  And perhaps that is why the Church in its Palm Sunday liturgy invites the congregation to participate by assuming the voices of many of the characters in the Passion narrative.

At times this is surely uncomfortable, as we take our place in a congregation which asks for Barabbas over Jesus, yells “crucify him” and asks that his blood be on us and on our children.  But in fact, if we think contemplate the text, the passion story and the story of our passions is not something foreign to us.  How many of us, like Peter, have ever been over sure of our commitment in the face of danger?  Or have denied knowing someone when they were in trouble?  How many of us, like Judas, have lost our idealism and have betrayed our mission or rebelled against the very enterprise or person that we initially felt so drawn to.  How many of us have ever accused someone falsely or scapegoated another?  How many of us have taken away another’s good name or thrown fuel to the fire through gossip?  How many of us have been a Simon of Cyrene for others and helped shoulder the burden of another?  How many of us have ever stood at the cross of someone who was helpless or sick or dying?  Or how many of us have actually been on the “other side” of the station and have known the experience of Jesus who was betrayed, mocked, abandoned, denied, helped, consoled, or accompanied in our cross, our pain, our dying?

The WAY OF THE CROSS, the way of ego deflation.  The cross is always ego deflating.  It always throws us radically into an experience of our own incapacity to save ourselves, to fix ourselves, to maintain control, to “figure it out.” It is an emptying, a kenosis, a letting go, a jumping into the hands of a merciful Father, an experience of Jesus who prayed, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”  It is a process that leads us to know personally and experientially, that in the end, the Father has the final “piece in the puzzle of our lives.”  And that it is the Father who eternally and unconditionally loves us as it was in the beginning, is NOW and ever shall be.  And that every role we play as part of the grand story, is claimed by Jesus as part of HIS story and will be taken up in glory.  For all that the Father has given him will come up to him and will be raised on the last day.

SPOILER ALERT!!!  It is a Divine Comedy, not a Divine Tragedy!  STAY TUNE TO NEXT SUNDAY!

Questions for Reflection:
As we approach this Holy Week experience, what character do you most resemble at this time?  Allow the Lord to deal with you.
When was the last time you had an “ego deflating moment?”  How did you deal with it?

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Fr. John Ferone, SJ
Email: [email protected]

The Bounty of the Altar

Written by Michael Miller on the Solemnity of St. Joseph, Spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary

New Orleans, Louisiana has a special place in my heart. It is where I graduated from college, learned how to cook red beans & rice and fell in love with my wife. Every so often, I crave crawfish boils, sno­balls and beignets so badly that the only cure is to get on a plane and go visit. This time of year, I also remember a Catholic tradition I first encountered there -­ the St. Joseph altar.

The tradition of the St. Joseph altar has its roots in Sicilian culture. After experiencing a drought, prayers, asking the intercession of St. Joseph, were answered and the crops thrived once again. A special table was prepared with the harvest. After honoring St. Joseph, the harvest feast was shared with others, particularly those most in need.

Italian immigrants brought this tradition to New Orleans and, over the years, St. Joseph altars have become increasingly elaborate. The tradition, however, remains much the same – honoring the legacy of St. Joseph. Because he is the patron saint of workers, travelers and immigrants, the feast of the St. Joseph altar is shared with those in need. Whether located in an individual’s home or in a Church cafeteria, no one is turned away from enjoying the bounty of the altar.

In this Jubilee Year of Mercy, the St. Joseph altar can be a reminder of God’s abundant mercy — shared with everyone in need. While I certainly crave New Orleans cuisine from time to time, my craving for God’s love and mercy endures. Today, on this feast of St. Joseph, I will ask God for the grace to grow in the practice of hospitality and to better share the love and mercy I receive with everyone I encounter.

Questions for Reflection:
Am I experiencing any spiritual droughts in my life? Am I bringing these to prayer?
Where do I see workers, travelers and immigrants in my community? How might I share God’s love and mercy with them?

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Michael Miller, Jr.
Michael is the Regional Chief Mission Officer for Saint Joseph Mercy Health System. He studied philosophy at Loyola University New Orleans (BA ’01), liturgy at Aquinas Institute of Theology in St. Louis (MA ’07) and bioethics at Loyola University Chicago (MA ’15). He and his wife (Sarah) hang out with their daughter (Ella) and dog (Tipitina). He prefers Hansen’s Sno­Bliz, but would never refuse a trip to Plum St. Sno­Balls.
Email: [email protected]

The Hard Questions

Written by Katy Rapson on Friday of the Fifth Week of Lent

A good friend of mine once told me that some years are years of questions and some are years of answers. Thanks to my “early 20s”, every year for the past few has felt like a year of questions: questions of love, career, relationships…faith. When it comes to the faith questions, I’m extra hard on myself because my faith used to feel so easy, so…stable. And because these questions seem so hard, I mostly deal with them by ignoring them. If I just put faith further down on my priority list, I can just find stability in other things, right?

A few months ago, my boyfriend Chris asked if I wanted to meditate with him (something he asked me every once in a while). “Sure,” I’d always say, but would really think, “uggghh wouldn’t you rather watch How I Met Your Mother?” Every time we meditated, it would go something like this: we’d close our eyes and start the timer and I’d quiet myself physically, but refuse to quiet my mind. Instead I’d just follow the thoughts of my to-do list until the bell chimed.

But this time, I was being pulled deeper inward. I fought it, begging to stay surface level, but within minutes, I was silently sobbing, having this inner dialogue:

Me: I can’t deal with this right now, I can’t face these questions. It’s too hard.

God/Love/”I am”: That’s okay, I love you anyways.

Me: But why? I don’t understand. I’m a mess.

When the bell chimed, Chris opened his eyes and looked at me, shocked. I quickly buried my face in his chest and sobbed even harder, telling him what I’d experienced. “Sometimes I wish someone would just tell me it’s okay that I’m struggling so much…” I said.

Chris looked at me lovingly and responded, “Didn’t God just do that?”

God showers us with mercy and love 100% of the time. And honestly, that’s really hard for me to understand, and even harder for me to receive, especially when I feel like I’ve fallen short. It’s easy to think that God’s call to mercy doesn’t include us being merciful to ourselves. But it does, and that’s worth being reminded of.

Questions for Reflection:
Are there places in my life where my lack of mercy towards myself is preventing me from receiving God’s mercy and love?
How can I be more gentle and loving towards myself, as God calls me to be?
How can I be a reminder to others of God’s love and mercy and remind them to be merciful to themselves?

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Katy Rapson
Katy is a U of M grad that never left Ann Arbor or St. Mary’s. She works at the University of Michigan Taubman College of Architecture as an Admissions Representative, helping high school and college students find their home in the undergraduate architecture program. She is also involved with other SMSP Intern Alumni in building an Intern Alumni Network and supporting the current Interns.
Email: [email protected]

Finding Mercy in a Familiar Place

Written by Jon Perry on Thursday of the Fifth Week of Lent

We have all heard the passage of Jesus walking on water many times, but I want to call to attention something we all struggle with. This is a great example of the daily trials we face as Catholics. We all think we know it all sometimes and I know I personally will do anything to avoid asking for help. There is certainly no problem with being motivated, driven and excited about attaining a goal we have set forth for ourselves. Certainly it is God’s will, to utilize the talents and gifts He blessed us with to reach our goals. The mistake we often make however, is believing that we as humans and children of God are expected to walk this journey alone. We frequently get lost in our desires and believe we are capable of doing it all on our own.

After we challenge Jesus as Peter did, we begin to walk on the water (traverse whatever challenge we may face) without issue. We believe that we can handle it; we are overcoming the issue by ourselves. We couldn’t be more wrong. As the story goes, “But when he saw how (strong) the wind was he became frightened; and, beginning to sink, he cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’” Isn’t it true that every time we come to a point we cannot pass, we call on Jesus? We thought before we could handle it by ourselves, but it was our faith and trust in Jesus that kept us going, kept us safe. As soon as we begin to doubt Jesus, we begin to sink.

We often deal with disappointment, failure and a sense of not knowing. We feel confident in whatever we are doing, but as soon as we shift our focus off Jesus and on to our own personal agendas, we begin to sink.

At the end of the passage we encounter Jesus’ forgiveness. “Immediately Jesus stretched out His hand and caught him, and said to him ‘Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?’” This is Jesus saying, “Why are you taking all of this on by yourself? I am here to help you, keep your eyes focused on me and together you can achieve anything.”

Questions for Reflection:
Now thinking about the grace and forgiveness Jesus offers, can you think of a time you tried to rely on yourself to accomplish a goal?
When you were not successful, did you quickly turn to Jesus for blame?
Spend a few minutes reflecting on the fact that Jesus isn’t upset with you for your sin and for ignoring/blaming Him, he loves you eternally.

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Jon Perry
Jon is a junior studying Sport Management within the School of Kinesiology at U of M. He is 21 years old, intends to graduate in 2017 and is from Farmington, Michigan. In addition to being involved at St. Mary’s, he is a member of the service fraternity Alpha Phi Omega, the social Christian fraternity Beta Upsilon Chi and plays on the U of M Club Baseball team.
Email:[email protected]

Happily Ever After: A Lesson in Mercy

Written by Amy Ketner on Wednesday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Sometimes romantic comedies and Disney love stories really frustrate me.  They always seem to end at the fairy-tale moments – the kiss, the proposal, the happily-ever-after.  Well, anyone who has been in a long-term relationship (I imagine especially those who have been married for many years) can attest to the fact that relationships are never simply a happily-ever-after.  They are complicated, messy and a lot of work, and there is pain, growth and beauty in that.

In a similar way, I often find myself struggling with Scripture stories.  They are packed with parables and moments in Jesus’ life in which he shares powerful messages for all to hear and learn from.  But many times they leave me desiring more.  For example, in last Sunday’s Gospel about the woman who was caught in adultery, the story ends when all the scribes and Pharisees leave Jesus alone with the woman.  None have condemned her after all, and Jesus said “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.”  The story ends there.

I can’t help but wonder what the scribes and Pharisees continued to feel and reflect upon that day.  Did they truly forgive the woman or did they continue to judge her?  And the woman – was she able to forgive herself?  I find it harder to forgive myself than others, even when I know God has already shown mercy on me.  Perhaps that woman also experienced what I experience.  I wonder if it was hard for her to “sin no more”.

In thinking similarly about the Prodigal Son, I ponder the story from a new angle, as Fr. Eric encouraged last week.  My new angle is one not mentioned in the parable: what happens after the party??  After any big falling out, it’s often uncomfortable or awkward to start rebuilding the relationship, even when forgiveness has been granted.  Can you imagine how the older brother must have felt as he learned to let go of his pride and love his brother again?  Or the younger brother as he let go of his shame and let his family back into his life?

Mercy is messy.  It’s a long process of letting go of pride and hurt, of being humble and letting others back into our lives.  It’s learning to accept and love others and ourselves again, in spite of a rough history or bad track record.  Mercy is certainly not a simple happily-ever-after story, but if we really work at it – if we push through the uncomfortable, the awkward, and the humility – we can discover something truly beautiful.

Questions for Reflection:
Where am I finding it hardest to follow through in mercy?
Where can I invite in God’s grace to help me be humble and persistent enough to heal relationships with others, God or myself?

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Amy Ketner
Originally from the Flint area, Amy first moved to Ann Arbor to study sociology at UM (’13). As an undergraduate, she found a home away from home at St Mary’s.  After graduation, Amy volunteered for two years in Santiago, Chile through the Jesuit Volunteer Corps.  She recently returned to the United States and is excited to be back at SMSP working part time as a Campus Ministry Associate.
Email: [email protected]

Who am I? Who are You?

Written by Carolyn Burns on Tuesday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Lent is journey of forty days in the church’s calendar. For some of us, however, the journey in the desert lasts longer than forty days. Moses wandered for forty years and only saw the Promised Land from a mountain top. For the past few years I have felt and understand that sense of wandering. For most of us deserts are more than just sand. What we long for is a place of more than milk and honey. We crave authentic connection with others- with something beyond ourselves.

As my life has progressed and those I have loved and cared for have gone and relationships have fallen away, I ask myself who am I if I cannot see myself in those whom I have loved and spent my life with? My son died when he was twenty. I lost my job in the great recession of 2008. One building block after another has crumbled, leading me to question my very identity. Who am I if the foundation on which I built my life is fragmented?

In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus is trying to communicate who He is to those about him with what seems like only partial success. So often I have felt that same difficulty communicating who I am, how I got here and why, trying to share experiences with words that fail. For those of us stumbling around trying to convey where we have been and what we have seen, the words of Jesus “He who has sent me is trustworthy. . . He has not left me alone” offer solace and hope. The people listening to Jesus are confused by his words, by who he is, and yet Jesus offers them consolation. In the end we are not alone and can depend on the Father. Lent gives way to Easter morning.

Lord, as I yearn for others to understand who I am, I ask for help in listening to other people as they speak of their backgrounds and what they have seen and heard. Give me the patience to listen with mercy, kindness and generosity so I can begin to understand them more deeply. And help me to see you reflected in their lives so I may know who you are as well.

Questions for Reflection
How would I answer the question put to Jesus? Who am I? What are the elements that make up my identity?
Do I listen closely to other people when they share their stories, or just wait for my turn to speak?
Am I trying to get to know who Jesus is and understand him at a deeper level?
Amid the confusion of life, is my faith with the Father?

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Carolyn Burns
Carolyn came to Ann Arbor for graduate school over thirty years ago and stayed. She has degrees from NYU, Bank St College of Education and the University of Michigan. She has been a teacher for many years, beginning with preschool children in New York City and then college students throughout southeastern Michigan. Her area is psychology with a focus on child development. She was a member of St Mary’s in the early 1980’s and has recently returned to the parish where she is involved in the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults.
Email: [email protected]

Driven to be Merciful

Written by Andrew Morris on Monday of the Fifth Week of Lent

I love driving.

There is nothing more relaxing to me than hopping in a car, blasting the radio, and taking an aimless summer drive around town. But there is nothing I find more irritating than slow drivers in the wrong lane, or even worse, people trying to turn left across several lanes of traffic during rush hour. Just as the light turns green it seems, someone decides now is the time to turn left out of that corner gas station and nudges their car forward into the first lane of traffic, which has stopped for them. Leaving the drivers in the next lane with a choice to stop for them too, or to keep driving on.

My first reaction is just frustration. Why can’t people just follow the rules?! Don’t they see how dangerous of a situation they are making; can’t they wait a minute for a natural opening in traffic instead of holding everyone up? I should teach them a lesson by being “that guy” that just zooms past in the other lane. But on further reflection; I too have been the person desperately trying to turn out from somewhere only to be forced to wait endless minutes. Why then am I so irritated that I had to stop and show such a simple (and trivial) act of mercy?

In Pope Francis’s declaration of this Jubilee Year of Mercy he remarks “If God limited himself to only justice, he would cease to be God, and would instead be like human beings who ask merely that the law be respected….God goes beyond justice with his mercy and forgiveness” Humans have such a strong desire for fairness and justice that sometimes we seem to forget that justice and punishment alone are not an end, but rather are a part of a process that should lead to some form of reconciliation. It is easy to condemn and punish; but forgiveness (which is what is actually fulfilling) is much harder. When I keep in mind examples of mercy and compassion that were shown to me, I am much better at recognizing opportunities to show the same toward others, which is far more satisfying than beating a traffic light.

Questions for Reflection:
In what ways do I find it difficult to show some form of mercy to someone even if I can recognize situations when mercy was shown to me?
Have I ever let a desire for justice prevent me from acting with love and mercy toward others?

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Andrew Morris
Andrew recently graduated from U of M with a BSE in Chemical Engineering. His dream car is the Delorean DMC-12, which is as nerdy as it sounds.
Email: [email protected]