"What Do You Ask of Me?" Joe Trout Talks About His Journey to the Dominican Order of Preachers

Chapter One:
Wednesday, November 25th, 2009, I arrived at my parents’ house the night before Thanksgiving. My mom had recently called to tell me that she finally framed a picture from my college graduation, and I found it sitting on the bookshelf in our living room. As I picked up the picture, I could only laugh when I saw the books behind it. The biographies of two saints, Thomas Aquinas and Dominic, were sitting directly behind me on the shelf. I had never seen those books before at our house, nor do my parents remember even buying them. That night I intended to announce my plans of applying to enter the Order of Preachers, and yet again God provided every ounce of support I needed.

That night was, of course, not the beginning of my vocation. To be perfectly honest, my life has been the story of my discernment. In beautiful hindsight, I can categorize my years as either

A.) Approaching God with an open heart,
B.) running away from the will of God, or
C.) hiding under the stairs waiting for Him to drag me out.

God wrote His name upon my heart from such an early age that I literally cannot remember a time when the priesthood was not up for debate. In kindergarten I had every intention of growing up to be a priest. This may have been swayed by the fact that my siblings and I enjoyed playing Mass and as I was at the time the only boy I was chosen to be the priest. I thank God that He chose to use the folly of children to mark my heart for Him, and that we were orthodox enough as kids not to let my sisters steal the show!

It would be a lie to say that this calling has never wavered. God has never wavered, and I have never for a moment doubted that He had plans for me alone, but I have certainly played the part of a drunk monkey on the balance beam along the way. In truth, I intended to be a priest until I entered middle school. It was then that some horrible advice radically changed my life. It was merely a stray comment from a teacher but words can, in fact, have great effect.

I was always a top student in school so it is not surprising that one day a teacher said that I “could be anything I wanted to be.” Until that point, I had never even begun to ask what I wanted to do with my life. In the back of my mind, I still had the firm notion that God was calling me to the priesthood. This had nothing to do with my desires and never had. If anything, it was almost fact of where my life was headed rather than a choice to be made. This horrendous suggestion led me to start creating my own ambitions. Until then, I really had no great” goal” per say (other than Heaven and I do believe I was set on getting the stigmata). This fact surprises many people as I was incredibly successful in high school and beyond but can assure you that I never set out to accomplish any of it. I simply wanted to follow God and give my all.

In reality, I do believe it was this stray comment that led me the furthest from my vocation of any life event. It is thrown about in schools all the time, and it is both detrimental and completely false. A great number of limitations do exist in this world and I cannot possibly be anything I could ever desire. I cannot sing well enough to make it on Broadway and no amount of training would get me to the NFL. I certainly could never become a Nun. It is a silly notion to tell children their dreams have no limits. You may disagree, but you will certainly agree, brothers and sisters in Christ, that it is a great crime to tell this to a child simply because it create a false idol out of their own desires and directs life away from the Cross.

As those words began to fester in my soul, I started thinking, “Well I could be an engineer, or possibly teach…” and so on. How self centered my thinking was! What was I going to do with my life? Me, me, me. Wherever did the question go, “God, what do you ask of me? Nothing less will ever make me happy.”

Chapter Two:
In the end, I wound up studying chemical engineering for one year at Rose-Hulman before discovering that not only was God not calling me there, no one was. Many people told me they were counting the days until I left engineering because it was an awful fit. God did use that year to plant great words in my heart, and through some different discussion groups I began learning how to truly listen for the voice of God which I had forgotten so long ago. It was through studying the spirituality of Saint Ignatius, taught to me by the Conventual Franciscans that led me to a Dominican Parish and (God willing) a life within the Order of Preachers.

Once transferred to Purdue University, I fell into a home at Saint Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church. I did not immediately fall in love with the Dominicans, however. I had been blessed with truly devout and energetic Franciscans at Rose-Hulman and had several off putting interactions to begin my time with the Dominicans. While the details are completely irrelevant, it is a great comfort to me that the Order of Preachers and I experienced no great love at first sight. There were no musical numbers and other worldly sunshine when we met, but rather carefully placed distance and caution. Clearly, this has changed as I learned to differentiate between the sins of a man and the beautiful vocation he is blessed with. What great courage it has provided me as I know that I am indeed a highly qualified sinner who will find a wonderful home with other men who are not perfect. Of course, those negative experiences were only the beginning and I do have a deep love and respect for all the Dominicans I have met (no exceptions) as I have seen beautiful, joyful things come of all these men. Their joy is such a magnet that sucked me in. Now, I first met them five years ago, so it was not a quick pull, but strong nonetheless.

During my time at Purdue so many different events led me deeper into the heart of Christ. I dated my closest friend and a woman who will no doubt be a blessed Saint one day. Ending that relationship was indeed painful, but also simple as I came to know that God brought us together for a reason, but He did not intend for it to last. This was not my vocation. That truth makes any pain manageable. I suffered through many physical hardships and even took several semesters off school when my body simply said, “no,” which forced me to recognize my utter dependence on God and to love that reality. Ultimately, I graduated a year ago with a degree in Mathematics Education and a good job at a good school teaching fantastic children with the absolute certainty that it was not where I belonged.

When I accepted the job to teach at Northridge Middle School, it was with a heavy heart. What kept running through my mind was, “God, I know this is not your calling for me. I also know that I am not ready for whatever it is. I know you are trying to tell me, but I am not listening. I know I will be so happy with whatever it is. I know you will lead me. I have no doubts of that. I know I need to set aside my desires and embrace your call. I long for your will, whatever it is. Let me love you in this year and show me your will.” Not longer after, God responded with these words, “Joe, why have you written off the priesthood?” I had no answer. I simply knew what I had always known. God never left or changed His plans. I ran to so many different places, but the truth was simply staring me in the face. Looking back, the truth had been flashing neon signs, giant arrows, and probably a plane spelling out the message in the clouds. When I told my friends I had big news, one simply answered with “What order are you joining?” Most people said, “yeah we knew a long time ago you would be a priest. What took you so long?” Simple answer? Sins. Self reliance. The silly notion that I had to choose my own path as if I could have done a better job than my beloved Creator.

In many ways, this is a bit of an over simplification. One other major factor I know was that I have never felt called to the diocesan life. It holds literally no appeal to me. I am one of seven kids, I crave community. I want to be free to go wherever I am told. I desire a vow of obedience more than the stubborn child I still am could have ever imagined. My home town of Fort Wayne, however, had no religious orders of priests when I was growing up. I did not really meet a non-diocesan priest until college and had essentially eliminated that possibility because whenever I felt called to the priesthood I simply saw a life that did not fit the person I knew God created me to be. It was completely incongruous with my identity in Christ. How could that be God’s will for my life?

In the end my discernment was both a lifetime and a moment. While my life has been driven in this direction, it was God’s simple question that was all I needed. Since then I have been blessed with COUNTLESS signs that this is where God wants me to go. Some of them have been outright absurd as if God is just begging for the opportunity to show me His love (hmm… maybe He is…I’ll pray on this). These signs, however, did not make my vocation. It was the knowledge of who God made me to be, the desires He wrote on my heart and the truth sitting in front of me. I had prayed for such a long time that God would lead me to His will, that when I finally opened my eyes, where else would God have taken me? My transfer to Purdue had been so miraculous that I believed God led me to Purdue, until I found Him shouting, “No! I led you to what you asked of me! I led you to your vocation! Here are the Dominicans!”

Chapter Three:
I still took my time before finally taking a leap and applying. It was actually Brother Nick Monco, OP that finally encouraged (forced) me to go on the Come and See weekend which cemented everything I already knew. I began meeting with Father Wisdom and said the one thing you should never tell him unless you absolutely mean it: I have no doubts. This is what God is asking me to do. Let’s do it. His response? Well, I had a little over a month to complete all the paperwork and appointments before going in front of the boards. By the grace of God, it only took 20 days to complete. Anyone who has ever tried to schedule a physical, dental check, psychological evaluation, and so on, all in cities they do not live in can attest that without the grace of God this would not have happened.

After my acceptance, one of the most beautiful times of my life began. I have referred to it as my own personal advent, as I am waiting to head off to begin what God has called me to, even if it just for a year or merely a day. I continued to teach 7th and 8th grade math and absolutely loved it. Once I told everyone that I was going to enter the seminary, the job became even better. The ways that I have been able to witness to my faith and simply love the children of God (young and old) have been incredible. If you think God is dead in public schools, you are sadly mistaken. The staff and students gave me more support and affirmation of my call then a great many Catholics. Many students began to share their faith with me and had no shame in asking about my own. Leaving them was certainly heartbreaking, though I can have nothing but confidence that God will send them someone far greater than I in my place.

So where does all this take me? To answer that, let me tell you about one morning in adoration. In a Lenten sacrifice that stuck longer than I intended, I was at adoration before Mass before school in the morning, when a gentleman came up to me and asked, “So you are a seminarian?” At first, I was touched that he saw something in me without even knowing me that showed my love of God. That may be true. What I began noticing that day, however, was that the only young men I ever run into at daily mass and adoration (outside of Purdue where young, devout Catholics are everywhere) were discerning the seminary. This is certainly significant. If you have any intention of discerning a vocation to the priesthood, you must run to Christ. It was in adoration and the Mass that God spoke so plainly to me. But why should this be reserved for the religious? No, EVERYONE discerning the will of God is called to come and know Him. This is the call of humanity: to know, love and serve God. We must spend time with Him to know Him. Run to Mass. Run to Adoration. Run to God. No matter where God leads you in life, you will never regret deepening your bond with Him in the tiniest of sacrifices by just going to daily Mass. Just the other day I was so excited to see another young man in adoration with, I can only hope, his girlfriend. Strong men living intimately with Christ are needed everywhere. Give Him your heart with absolute abandon, and He will never disappoint.
~Joe Trout
(Joseph Trout is currently a postulant of the Province of St. Albert the Great, USA.)

The Saint from Magdala

Would the "real" Miryam of Magdala please stand up? Miryam of Magdala is one of those New Testament figures that fascinates people of our generation. To some, she's practically a Gnostic goddess, and wife of the Messiah. To others, she's a post-modern feminist giant who seems ready to squash poor Peter and Paul--those "other" apostles. There is, of course, no evidence of either of these two positions, and when it comes down to it, we really know very little about Miryam after the encounter with the risen Messiah beyond the brief mention of "the women" gathered with the apostles at Pentecost (Acts 1:14).

So when I was asked to preach for the memorial of this great saint--one of my favorites--and patroness of the Dominican Order, I knew that I would not be satisfied with legends and conspiracy theories; I wanted the truth. And the only source for truth about Miryam of Magdala is scripture itself. Preserved in the canonical gospels are three central aspects to Miryam's story which the Ruah Hakodesh (Holy Spirit) and the early Church preserved for us. Firstly, Miryam of Magdala was a woman who had been healed by Yeshua (Luke 8:2). One assumes that her discipleship stems from this miraculous healing. Secondly, Miryam of Magdala was a benefactress of the Messiah and the early Christian movement (Luke 8:3c). She is, in fact, a model of the Corporal Works of Mercy. Thirdly, and finally, she was the first to see the Risen Messiah and tell others about it (Matthew 28; Mark 16; Luke 24; John 20). This telling others is loosely understood to be preaching. It is, in fact, testimonial preaching, which all Christians, especially the laity, are called to do.

People of today seem very comfortable with the last two of the three details that scripture gives to us about Miryam. I suspect it is because these details can be used to paint a picture of her that makes her seem "important". The argument runs that, because she gave of her personal resources to care for the Messiah and the apostles, she must have been influential. And, she was "chosen" to see the Risen Messiah first because she must have had a special relationship to him. I find these arguments unconvincing, and for my part, I think they are beside the point. After all, the focus of scripture and tradition is always on Yeshua and his mission, not on any one particular person. Besides, if anyone received an extraordinary and special appearance of the Risen Lord it was St. Paul...but I digress.

People, because they want Miryam to be influential and powerful, are not so apt to sit with her, and meditate on the meaning of that first hint of the origin of her faith in the Messiah--her healing. Sadly, the story of her healing is not recorded in scripture. We have to do our best to imagine what happened on that day when Yeshua stepped into her life.

I would like to offer the following guided meditation on the Healing of Miryam of Magdala for your consideration. This story is simply the result of my own meditation, and I offer it not as fact, but as poetic possibility. Click here to listen to the guided meditation, or read the longer version below.

[Meditation on the Healing of St. Miryam of Magdala:
Imagine a small, dark room. It's hot--incredibly hot. The air inside it is not moving at all. Although it's noon outside, there's no light in the room. In one of the corners, crouched down, hunched over, more like an animal than a human, is a woman. She rocks back and forth, her eyes constantly darting this way and that, straining to see what isn't there. She feels things that cannot be seen, and hears voices. They say to her, "Miryam. You're alone, Miryam. You're forsaken, Miryam. No one loves you, Miryam." Over and over, the voices tell her this. She continues to rock back and forth, tears falling down her dirty face onto her even dirtier tunic. She is alone.

Outside on the street, people pass by the house. The women on the way to the well for water invariably stop by the house's gate and ask each other if they've seen "her", or if anyone has heard anything from Miryam from Magdala. They laugh at her--the people instructed to love their neighbor, laugh at her. They don't realize the terror she lives in, crouched in that lonely, dark corner hearing those voices say over and over, "You're alone; You're forsaken; No one loves you."

One woman passes by the others and doesn't laugh. She, like the woman inside the house, is name Miryam. Each time that she passes that house, she says a prayer for the woman from Magdala. This Miryam has a brother--a younger brother, the son of her father's second wife*. They say he's a miracle worker. Her step-mother says he changed water into wine at a wedding, and her brother Ya'akov says he saw him heal a leper. When she heard these things, she sent word for her brother to visit her. She did not mention a word about the Magdalene.

After she sent this invitation to her brother by men of the village going to Capernaum, she was always on the look out him. She knew it would take time for them to find Yeshua, and then time for him to get there, but she trusted he would come. So whenever she went to get water, she looked for him. She was eager for him to come, as if she, too, could hear those cruel voices tormenting Miryam from Magdala. One day, as she was just turning to walk back home, she saw him coming down the road. He seemed older to her, his face more a man's than a boy's now. He was bare foot, wearing a dusty tunic. His smile, though, was just what it always had been. She ran to him, and they embraced.

She was just about to tell him about the Magdalene when he shook his head to silence her. He smiled again, and walked right into the Magdalene's yard, into her house, and out of sight. He entered that room. That dark, airless room. Then the woman in the corner saw his feet. She had been staring into the darkness waiting for something. She looked up with an animal jerk and locked eyes with him. "They" were pulling at her stronger now, hissing and screeching. "Miryam!" Yeshua said. She looked up again at those eyes. It was the first time in years that anyone had looked at her like a human being. But "they" kept telling her, "You're alone! You're forsaken! No one loves you!" They said it louder now. "Miryam!" Yeshua repeated. She looked up again, tears pouring out of her eyes. Her brain was racked with a sharp penetrating pain. She cried out in fear. "Miryam!" Yeshua said one last time as he reached out and touched her shoulder.

Suddenly, the voices were gone. Air seemed to fill the room, and she drank it in. There was light. Yeshua held out his hand and lifted her out of that corner. He led her gently out of that room and out of that house, and Miryam from Magdala never looked back.]

I offer this meditation for your consideration because I think it's only by sitting with Miryam of Magdala in that dark place and imagining her pain, and then her joy when Yeshua rescues her that we can fully appreciate what motivated her to then spend all of her resources supporting the preacher and miracle worker from Nazareth and his twelve apostles. It explains why she followed him closely when he was arrested, put on trial, and then executed by the state, even at the danger of her own life. And it explains why, early in the morning, on the first day of the week, we find her rushing to get back to that tomb where they laid her master's body.

In this respect, Miryam of Magdala represents a huge number of people whose faith in Yeshua stemmed from an encounter with him that brought them healing, forgiveness, and freedom. Think of the woman caught in adultery, or the woman at the well; St. Peter's mother-in-law, or the Centurion's beloved servant; the woman with the hemorrhages, or the little girl who had died; the man possessed by demons, or the countless lepers, and the blind, lame, or deaf people whom he restored to health. For these people, Yeshua was the clear fulfillment of those promises recorded by Isaiah: 1) That the Messiah would be "Emmanuel"--God with us (Isaiah 7:14; Matthew 1:23), and 2) That the Messiah would come to: "announce Good News to the poor", to "proclaim liberty to captives, sight to the blind, and release to those who have been crushed" (Isaiah 61:1-2; 58:6; Luke 4:18-19). Yeshua truly looked at these people, touched these people, and claimed these people as his own. In return, these people gave testimonial to him and began the Christian movement of the Jewish Faith.

So, for me, it's less important to spend time trying to recreate Miryam of Magdala's story, making her not just the "Equal to the Apostles" as Orthodox Christians call her, but "The Greatest of the Apostles", the super woman of the Early Church who will some how change the Church of today. For me, her story has to always be about telling us how great Yeshua was, and how he truly did fulfill the messianic promises from God.

Besides this, Miryam's story ought to remind us of the many people in the world still crouched down and hunched over in corners who feel the weight of darkness, and who hear voices saying to them, "You're alone; You're forsaken; No one loves you!" I think that if we truly want to honor Miryam of Magdala and what the Messiah did for her, then we have to seek these people out, look them in the eye, extend our hands to them, and claim them. We are, after all, the Messianic people, and his work is our work. Let us, like the Saint from Magdala, go proclaim the Good News: We are not alone; We are not forsaken; God loves us!
Br. Paul, OP~

*Mark 6:3 mentions the sisters of Yeshua. Some traditions have their names as Miryam and Salome. Scripture, however, does not name them, but does name his brothers: Ya'akov, Yosi, Y'hudah, and Shim'on.

**Disclaimer: My views may be strongly expressed in this blog. I personally do not like how St. Miryam has been hijacked. For me, it's much more honest to admit that we don't know much about her, instead of creating hagiography about her that we wish were true and then acting as if it were known fact (the story of the egg changing colors, for example, or the claim that she was martyred. I honor and respect St. Miryam, but I suspect my views about her are pretty different from others who love her as well. With them, I respectfully disagree.

Friday Prayer at the Islamic Center

Today's visit to the Islamic Center of Albuquerque, located on Yale Blvd., taught me things about myself that I did not know before. Before getting to the mosque, I was excited. "Here I go again!" I thought, "Stepping out. Going where Christians usually do not go." I was also thinking, "Why am I going to this mosque? What business do I have there? I'm a Christian, after all, and happily so." Still, I was not persuaded to stay home. Lately I have been meditating upon the nature of "interfaith encounters"--those efforts to bridge the gap between "us and them". Unlike interfaith dialogue or interfaith debate, interfaith encounters are not about the two groups of believers coming together to talk about either what makes them similar or what makes them different. It's about members of one group going to visit the other, just to be with them, to see how they pray and worship, to hear how they think of God. It does not require anyone doing anything differently on the home turf, and all it takes is the courage of the other group to come and see.

The visitor may or may not blend in. I have no idea how many of the Muslim men who saw me today could tell that I was not a Muslim. Most of them were of either African or Arab descent, while I, even with my lovely thick black eyebrows and tan skin, must still be very Anglo-looking. Even so, people sat next to me on the floor at the back of the prayer space, mostly young, high school aged boys taking advantage of the wall's back support.

I watched, as I sat, as these men of all ages and various ethnicities filed in. I could smell the fresh scent of soap, the result of the obligatory washing before prayer. They would come and stand and begin their prayer; bending, bowing, rising, prostrating, rising again, reciting whichever verse of the Koran that they willed to pray. Then the words of the call to prayer rang out...Words I now recognize from my two months in Cairo. A few of the words I understood.

I will admit that a part of me was a little unnerved. Unlike when I visited with the Jews, with the Muslims, I felt like I was a spy in the "other team's" camp. I hesitate to say this, as I don't want to give the wrong impression; I'm simply trying to capture the emotions I was experiencing. I felt like an outsider...as if at any given moment my "foreignness" would be exposed, and I would be...I don't know...you fill in the blank. I marvelled at this feeling and examined it while my Muslim brothers continued to pray. Was this fear the result of my sheltered life, or was there something about Muslims and Islam that I was afraid of? "What am I doing here?" part of me wondered again.

As I wondered this, a man mounted the "pulpit" and began his preaching. He was an African, dressed in a long white tunic, with a decorative outer robe, and white cap. He preached in Arabic and English. Again, I could recognize the phrases for "Thanks be to God", "God willing" and words like "night". I was glad to get to hear a homily, as I knew Muslim prayer is actually quit simple, and would not give me much to think about.

The homily was on various topics. Things like: Earning God's love; Living the Pillars of Islam (Prayer, Fasting, Alms-giving, Pilgrimage, and Profession of Faith); The joys and rewards of pious living; The dangers of the Internet; and modesty in dress (for men and women). It was a conservative homily, but balanced in expression, eloquent in its zeal for righteousness. I noticed that it had the effect of making me eager, but in the conservative way that wants to throw out all joyful recreation in favor of studying and religious observances. I had to reflect on these emotions in order to return to my own sense of religious balance.

All in all, I enjoyed my visit. I think I would like to return again to continue to break down this fear that I carry around regarding Islam and Muslims. These men were brothers to each other, and extended the hand of fraternity to me. They were boys, sons, fathers and grandfathers, professionals and otherwise,--men of faith. That, at least, we have in common.
Br. Paul, OP~

Following Yeshua's Lead: Incarnation and Pastoral Care

One of the many benefits of having the duty of seeing the patients before they go to surgery is the time you have between visits to "connect the dots" in terms of the various ideas and questions that come up during CPE. For example, as I was down in the presurgery area today something one of my classmates said came to mind. He said that when a visit with a patient did not end with him praying with the patient that he did not feel like the visit had been pastoral. When he said this, many of us agreed, and said we felt the same way. There's a way that we interns still think that pastoral care has to be 1) obviously religious in word and deed, and 2) about what we want rather than what the patient needs.

As I thought on this, I tried to think of examples of pastoral encounters from Yeshua's own life. I thought of his encounter with the "Rich, young man" (Mark 10:17-22), with the "Samaritan Woman at the Well" (Yochanan 4:1-42), and with Zakkai (Zacchaeus) who was up the tree (Luke 19:1-10). It struck me that in none of these encounters does Yeshua end with "Let's pray". The witness to the Most High was accomplished through Yeshua's ability to be present to these people...to see them.

In fact, it has long been a favorite meditation of mine to think that Yeshua's purpose in taking the roads that he did, at the time that he did, was so that he would encounter these people--be available to the lepers, to the blind man called Bar Timai (Bartemeus), to the woman caught in adultery, to the woman with the hemmorages. He came to Ya'akov's well not to drink water, but to meet the woman and speak to her.

One of my favorite details from these pastoral encounters of Yeshua with these people comes from the story of the "Rich young man". It reads: "Yeshua, looking at him, felt love for him..." (Mark 11:21). Yeshua had eyes to see...to see the sick, the sinful, the confused, the lost, the earnest, the holy. The great message of his life lies in the prophesy of Isaiah that the Messiah would be called "Immanu El" or "God is with us" (Isaiah 7:14). Through the Incarnation, God was reaching out to us, seeking us out, or, to use the images from Yeshua's own parables, the Incarnation was the way in which God, like the father of the Prodigal Son, could come out to meet his son as he came home. It was the way that God, like the woman with the lost coin, could clear the house and light the lamps to find us again. Or, like the shepherd of the lost sheep, it was his way of leaving the 99 good sheep (the angels and all other obedient creatures) to recover the lost sheep (humanity).

God could have done his work of salvation in many ways, with great show and authority, and there are moments in which Yeshua does show his authority and divinity--think the Transfiguration, and the grand miracles like walking on water or calming the seas, or exorcising demons from people--but sometimes, and more often, I suspect, Yeshua saved people one-on-one, quietly, looking in their eyes, and listening to them, rather than just preaching at them, or praying for them. It's the reality of sacramental presence, and the healing nature of personal intimacy. It's the work of gifting yourself to other people...saying, "I'm here for you. I hear you. I see you." I think it's the profound meaning behind Yeshua's personal Messianic motto: "the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve--and to give his life as a ransom for many" (Mattityahu 20:28).

What these people needed most was to be recognized as human beings.

So, in the end, patients may or may not want to pray with me. They may not remember my name or remember anything that I said, but I hope that when I am with them, they feel connected--like someone is seeing them and hearing them. After all, Catholic Christians believe that what was true for Yeshua is now true for us. The vocation to be God-with-us for others belongs to every member of the Body of Christ, just as every stranger we meet, every sick person we visit, every prisoner we minister to, every victim we protect is God-to-us. Once that rapport is established, then the words of the Gospel which are being lived, can be discussed and offered to the other with credibility.
Br. Paul, OP

Adat Yeshua Synagogue: Encountering Messianic Jews

Who are Messianic Jews? If you're like me, you've at least at one time or another heard of "Jews for Jesus." I believe the first time that I heard them referenced was during an episode of The Golden Girls. Since that time, I haven't really thought about them, since there never seemed to be any Messianic Jewish communities where I lived. Later on, I learned that these Jews were not liked very much by other Jews. In fact, they had the kind of reputation that Jehovah's Witnesses have among Christian denominations: that of being proselytizers with very bad theology. [I don't say this as one who necessarily holds that view.]

During this year in Albuquerque I have had the chance to finally encounter Jewish people for myself. In the winter, I began attending Torah study at the nearby Reform Jewish synagogue--Congregation Albert. As I drove to that synagogue on Saturdays, I would pass by another synagogue on Lomas Blvd.--Adat Yeshua (Congregation Jesus). The building, itself, looked like a Christian Church in one way, and a yeshiva (Jewish religious school) in another. At the top of the tower, instead of a Cross, was a Star of David. This building intrigued me, and I wanted to make a visit.

Later in the year, due to my increased interested in learning about Judaism and Hebrew, I bought David Stern's translation of the Bible called The Complete Jewish Bible. This Bible is used by Messianic Jews because it preserves much of the "Jewish flavor" of the Holy Scriptures by leaving many names and common phrases in transliterated Hebrew, while including the New Testament scriptures. It also preserves the Jewish ordering of the biblical books, and includes a reading schedule which mirrors the schedule for the Shabbat study of Torah.

All these things led me to finally decide to visit the Messianic Jews this morning. Again, I still had a few reservations about doing so, given that I had also heard that these groups can be charismatic in worship, much like the Pentecostals. I didn't know if I would be watching people speak in tongues and the like. I went anyway...

The worship service was surprising and fascinating to me. It was thoroughly Jewish--from what I understand of Jewish worship--in that they began with singing songs of praise based on Psalms, then reverenced the Torah after it had been removed from the tabernacle, then listened to the Torah portion for the morning (the same Numbers portion I had studied with the Reform Jews earlier in the morning), and then had more prayers...

The music was the kind of music that you could tap your feet and clap your hands to. So there I was, looking out at women with head scarves on and men dressed in suits with tallit (prayer shawl) and kippa (skull cap)standing with raised hands, or clapping their hands, and some were even dancing (in the back). I admit that I loved the music--both the words, which brought tears to my eyes, and the energy and beat, which excited the soul.

I loved all the Hebrew, as well, especially the singing of the Shema (Hear O Israel...). And I loved the reverence shown the Torah, but I admit I expected that the Gospels would also be read during the service, but they weren't. This surprised me. It made me look around, and sure enough, there was not any obvious Christian symbol in the entire space. Yeshua--Jesus--was referenced in prayer and song, however, and the cantor read from the letters of Paul, also, so there were some Christian elements, but all in all, the worship was thoroughly Jewish in style, while being Evangelical in tone and flavor.

After the worship service, a guest speaker, a woman from Israel, proceeded to give a long conference to the congregation on being full-time "praisers" of God. She used several texts from scripture to support her theme, mainly from the Tehillim (Psalms), and helped the congregation to unpack what scripture meant by "praise".

During the break for lunch, I decided not to stay, but to return to the priory. I had been to synagogue in one way or another from 9am to 1:30pm, so I was ready for the part of Sabbath that calls for rest.

True, I did not really interact personally with any of the Messianic Jews I saw this morning, but I was given a glimpse into their practice of faith and their praise of God. They really did seem to me to be Jews. As they proclaimed in their song--Jews who stand for Yeshua, and Jews who stand for Israel. There seemed to be no pretension--they demand the best of both worlds: faith in the Messiah with a Jewish identity. I was impressed by this, but I wondered how it impacted their ability to try be members of the Christian family, given the fact that Yeshua the Messiah and his Apostles did hand on their own unique tradition.

Given this question, I eagerly await the time when I can encounter Hebrew Catholics--Jews who retain their Jewish identity while living out a Catholic faith. Unlike the Messianic Jews, I suspect Hebrew Catholics have an appreciation for developments in Christian tradition which necessitate a greater identity with fellow Christians rather than with the Jews. Hebrew Catholics also have the benefit of the graces of the Sacraments. They have the disadvantage, however, of being relatively unknown amongst their fellow Catholics. [Want to learn more about Hebrew Catholics? Click HERE.]

In the end, the worship service with the Messianic Jews made me appreciate my Catholic faith. Nothing trumps a Catholic Mass in my opinion. A worship service is nice, and may help us long for Heaven, but a Catholic Mass actually is a foretaste of Heaven. Jesus is with us in a special way...in so many ways...during a Catholic Mass, the experience of which makes any other celebration feel incomplete or not enough. At least, that has been my own experience.

Still, this love of the Catholic Mass has not stopped me from valuing the knowledge that comes from visiting people of other faiths and denominations. I feel like because they exist I should know them, and on their terms, even while I stand by my own faith and traditions.
Br. Paul, OP

The Big 29...

This Wednesday, I turn the Big 29: the last year of my twenties, so I thought I would do a review of the highlights of my 28th year of life.

The People, Places, and Events of July 7th, 09 to July 7th, 10:

Places I have been:
Egypt: The city of Cairo, Giza pyramid campus, Dahab and the Red Sea, St. Catherine's and Mount Moses; residence: Our Lady of the Rosary Dominican Priory [where I renewed my vows on July 12th, 09](June 29th, 09-August 17th, 09)
St. Louis, Missouri: St. Dominic's Priory (August, 09; Oct, 09; May 10)
Albuquerque, New Mexico: Thomas Aquinas Community/Aquinas Newman Center (August, 09-August, 10) [Also, Jemez Springs, NM; Santa Fe, NM; Madrid, NM.]
Covington, Kentucky: Home Visit (December, 09/January, 10; May, 10)
Denver, Colorado: St. Dominic's Priory and Novitiate (December, 09)
New Orleans, Louisiana: Spring Break Service Trip (March 15th-19th, 10)

Books I have read:
Sanditon , The Watsons, and Lady Susan by Jane Austen
Middlemarch by George Eliot
Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell
The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James
Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray
The Missionary, the autobiography of Ven. Samuel Mazzuchelli, OP
Miss Marjoribanks by Margaret Oliphant
Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons
The Yes of Jesus Christ by Pope Benedict XVI
Selections from "The Other Bible", ancient texts excluded from the Bible
The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
The Kitab-i-Aqdas by Baha'u'llah (Bahai text)
Twilight by Stephanie Meyer
A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula LeGuin
A Glass of Blessings by Barbara Pym
The Deutero-Canonical Books & Apocrypha: Tobit, Judith, Wisdom, Sirach, 1, 2, [3, 4] Maccabees, 1 & 2 Esdras, Additions to Daniel, Baruch (& All or parts of commentaries on these books)
The Gospel of St. Mattityahu, the Epistle of St. Ya'akov

Ministries:
English as a Second Language to Sudanese Refugees (Cairo)
Bible Study on Deutero-Canon
Men's Faith Group
Two College Retreats
Confirmation class for high schoolers
RCIA and Religious Education Lectures
Communion Services/Preaching
Inter-faith interaction with Muslims, Jews, Anglicans, etc.
CPE hospital chaplaincy internship

Creative Writing:
Two Lost Short Stories written in Cairo
Cairo Adventures: Fiction based on trip to Cairo, Egypt
The Haunting of St. Martin's (A Halloween Tale)
The Miracle of the Curly Hair
Revisions to novel draft
Sundry Blog entries
"Who do you say that I am?" Retreat Prayer

People I have met:
Friars from the Conference on Islam in Cairo, including: Jean-Jacques (French), Jean (French), Yusef (Lebanese), Nars (Filipino), Brian (South African), Frank (German)
People from Albuquerque, including: Phil, Sean, Rosie, Catherine, Lucy, Rabbi Joseph Black, Michelle, Alex, Brian, Stephen, Adam, Brendan, and Katie...(and many more)
CPE classmates: Chris, Denise, Leslie, Travis, and Dan (who left), along with the other hospital chaplains at Presbyterian.
*Long-lost relatives I am now in contact with:
Maternal: Cousin Candi, & her sons: Cousins: James, Andrew, and Kolby (haven't met Jacob, yet)
Paternal: Aunt Debbie, Aunt Terrie, Cousin Arlo, Cousin Lisa, and Cousin Hallie
(A HUGE thanks to Facebook for these contacts)

Favorite place: The Red Sea, Dahab, Egypt
Favorite ministry: Bible study
Favorite Book: Middlemarch
Favorite Lunch-Date: At Tazza Mia's in Covington, KY with my long-lost cousin James
Favorite Car: Prius (only because I didn't actually drive a Mini-Cooper)
Favorite song: "Bad Romance", Lady Gaga (ha!), but also Kris Allen's "Live Like We're Dying", and Kelly Clarkson's "My Life would Suck without You"
Favorite new toy: Ipod
Favorite Meditation: The reality of the Catholic Priesthood (thank God, I'm Catholic!)

Goals for Year 29:
Move back to St. Louis, MO, August, 2010
Graduate from Aquinas Institute with MA in Theology, May, 2011
Profess Solemn Vows, June, 2011
Apply to graduate program in English
Start visiting with the Hebrew Catholic community of St. Louis
To love everyone