Well, the first week of school is over, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say that all I heard this week was a lot of gibberish--not because the professors couldn't speak but because I couldn't understand Italian. It used to be that if I did not understand a concept in class it was because the concept itself was difficult, not the language. The professor, for all I know, could just be standing up there saying "Americans are a bunch of idiots," and I would be hunched over my notebook, sweating, rapidly jotting down what I thought I heard.
Okay, but in all reality, it went pretty well. I am actually learning the language quite a bit faster than I thought I would, which is encouraging. Sitting through 3-4 hours worth of Italian Theology, however, is enough to wear anyone out; in fact, by midday, I almost have to take a nap simply because my brain has been fried...in vinegar and oil of course.
But here I am on the first day (read as "week"...I was a little late on taking the pic) of school.
That one's for you, Mom. I thought you'd like it. And I'm wearing a uniform again (this one perhaps for life). It is really great, though, to don the clerics and head off to school--which is the ministry that we can offer at this point in our lives. Since we are not yet Priests, our studies become our ministry, and the material we learn will be nourishment for our future parishoners. And, as our academic dean at the NAC has reminded us, our desk is our altar where we offer our sacrifice. Quite a strong image. It really helps me to approach my studies with reverence for the task God has placed before me, and I'm happy to accept.It has also been great to stop in the many beautiful Churches here after class and pray (you would too if you had to sit in Italian classes). In all seriousness, it is a real blessing to be able to spend some time in the classroom of Rome itself, where the Saints, their relics, and the Churches built in their memory instruct us in the Faith. I especially like Chiesa Nuova, where St. Philip Neri, the Apostle of Rome, rests. The Church itself is Baroque style architecture, kind of like a miniature St. Peter's (but then all Churches are miniature compared to St. Peter's). And fun fact: Chiesa Nuova means "New Church," which means that it was built 500 years ago....
But now I must take a moment to share with you a gift God granted me the other day as I ventured off to visit my first Apostolate. Some quick background: our first semester here, we do not actively serve in an Apostolate (i.e. Service Work, but for the Faith). Instead, we learn Italian and visit one of the many possible Apostolates (say that five times fast) to discern which one we will dedicate our time to in the coming years. I decided to visit the Missionaries of Charity, the order founded by Blessed (Mother) Teresa of Calcutta. God, knowing that I would do this from all eternity, had a little surprise in store for me.
Two quick facts: 1) I am still working on my Italian; 2) This trip gave me a chance to do so.
The place we went to is a soup-kitchen of sorts, and the part we worked on was focused on feeding the men of the streets of Rome. Well, one of the Sisters approached Greg and me, to ask if one of us would read the Gospel and then give a short reflection on it afterwards...you guessed it, in Italian. I don't know why (must have been the Spirit), but I volunteered, saying, "Provero" (which means, "I will try"). I then started to look over the Gospel and thought to myself, how am I going to do this? Immediately the words from Luke 12:11-12 came to mind: "...do not worry about ... what you are to say. For the holy Spirit will teach you at that moment what you should say." I promptly said, "Come Holy Spirit," and started to get an idea.
Sister called me out, sooner that I would have liked, in front of the whole group of Italian men (50 plus), and I began. Sure enough, God pulled it off. I basically said, "Dio ci ama," which means God loves us and moved forward from there. What a gift that was! I got to proclaim God's Word and invite these men deeper in their own language. Afterwards, I was able to serve them and talk with them--a true joy. Praise the Lord for His many great gifts, and please pray for those men. They need help; but more than that, they need to know they are loved. That is the greatest poverty today: not knowing God's love. The beauty is: all we have to do is ask Him, and He will let us know it (...and we will receive).
That's enough for now. Please continue to pray for me, and again, know that I pray for all of you. Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, pray for us!
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