When things got a little tough for me in my early years as a Jesuit, my friend "Dutch," (above, right, vesting me at my ordination) an older Jesuit priest, could always be counted on to provide a listening ear, and words of affirmation. Recently the New Orleans Times-Picayune ran a story about him:
Jesuit priest shares stories of a lifetime
Sunday, July 26, 2009
By Sarah Druen
. . . Why write about the Jesuit experience? The short answer is because I recently had the great privilege of becoming acquainted with a group of retired Jesuits who live in Algiers at the Ignatius Residence, located at 6321 Stratford Place.
In particular, after visiting with 83-year-old the Rev. Tom "Dutch" Jenniskens, I was inspired by his reflections and remembrances and given his blessing to share these various gems with you, our eager readers.
Jenniskens may never have become a Jesuit or served at Jesuit High had it not been for his own father's acts of courage and unselfishness. In answering Monsignor Peter Wynhoven's plea to assist in the staffing at Hope Haven, Jennisken's father relocated from Holland to Marrero, serving as a lay missionary.
Initially, the greatest need was in getting the dairy started and following the enlistment of the Salesians, the focus shifted toward working with the needs of the boys.
In 1945, the young Jenniskens, who had graduated from Jesuit High in 1943, was confronted with one of the most important and difficult decisions of his life. The U.S. was in the middle of World War II and Jenniskens knew without a doubt that he had a vocation to the priesthood. Although Jenniskens' brother, Peter, chose to become an archdiocesan priest, Jenniskens knew his call was to become a Jesuit, yet he was torn because of a desire to contribute to the war effort.
Ultimately, Jenniskens chose to serve his country by pursuing his religious vocation. To this day, Jenniskens recalls not only his frame of mind, but his exact location when he made his final decision. While sitting up in one of the windows, by the fish pond, Jenniskens received the grace of conviction, stating, "I knew this was where I belonged and I never looked back." . . .
After reading this article in The Chronicle of Higher Education by someone who identifies himself as "theistic off the job and professionally agnostic,” I'm wondering if I should reconsider my Theology studies. He explains:
“Theology [as opposed to religious studies] also views itself as an academic discipline, but it does not attempt to advance knowledge. Rather, theologians practice and defend religion.” How can theology be so unambitious?
“Since rituals do not accomplish what the religion says they do, the researcher evaluates them on the basis of what they actually accomplish, even when the doctrines do not acknowledge those accomplishments.” It seems I should also reconsider my vocation as a priest.
“In sum, the religion researcher is related to the theologian as the biologist is related to the frog in her lab. Theologians try to invigorate their own religion, perpetuate it, expound it, defend it, or explain its relationship to other religions. Religion researchers select sample religions, slice them open, and poke around inside, which tends to "kill" the religion, or at least to kill the romantic or magical aspects of the religion and focus instead on how that religion actually works.” Can somebody explain this to me? As far as I can tell, this analogy doesn't make any sense, because shouldn't the religion researcher then be dissecting the theologian? And, if so, wouldn't that make it hard for the theologian to invigorate or perpetuate anything? Unless, perhaps, maybe after dissection the frog is resurrected? But, then again, this might not "kill" religion, but start a new one. I'm confused. And, besides, I don't want to be the dead frog. Maybe I could be a virus?
Also, apparently, if I want to persist in being a priest and a theologian, I'm going about it unethically: “The failure of theologians to remind the members of their churches and synagogues that the Bible is an anthology of ancient literature composed by ancient people in an ancient culture has consequences. The laity are entitled to know that any god described in a biblical text is an ancient god, a byproduct of the ancient culture that produced the text. The god of the Bible is the sum total of the words in the text and has no independent existence. It would be reasonable to begin every theological discussion with the disclaimer "the god described in this sacred text is fictional, and any resemblance to an actual god is purely coincidental." This is not an outsider's dismissive opinion, but the reality, and theologians have an ethical obligation to teach that truth even if they also want to believe and teach, as is their right, that a god exists."
But, thank God, it seems that my qualms may be unwarranted. He wants to reassure me: “Am I trying to imply that theology is without value? Certainly not.”
So, maybe it is safe to step back into the sanctuary, and the classroom. And, in case you were wondering, I checked: not from the April Fool's issue.
You never know how things are going to come across on the internet. I've had a few kind messages from people, thinking I was upset or down, because of the post (since removed) which at least two people described as "raw." It wasn't as raw as what I had originally written for myself, and it was trying to express something I've been thinking about for some time. So, it wasn't really as raw as it seemed. But since it was interpreted that way, it's probably better that I removed it. I can assure you that I am not down or upset, but actually quite the contrary.
Indeed, I've had a lovely couple of days. One of the things that's great about being a Jesuit priest is that we have this great network of people who are graduates of our educational institutions. Since I am a graduate of Fordham university, I received word that there was a group of Fordham alumni coming to New Orleans this week to assist Catholic Charities and Operation Helping Hands in some of their ongoing rebuilding work. Knowing I was going to be here at the same time, I contacted them and invited them to the parish for mass. They kicked off their week with an alumni reception here in town last night. So, I joined them and some other local alumni last night for drinks and hors d'oeuvres in the French Quarter, and they joined me for mass this morning at 11:00 am. After mass, I joined them for an afternoon around town. So, it's been a really enjoyable couple of days with a group of young alumni, all of whom have graduated within the last ten years. Many of them used their vacation time from work in order to come down here for this trip.
This is truly one of the perks of being a Jesuit. I have enjoyed seeing many of the great positive contributions my former students are making in the world. And that's only a small percentage of the alumni I haven't taught myself from other schools, like this group from Fordham (actually several of them were students at Fordham at the same time I was a student). What a privilege to spend some time with them these last two days! I know they are going to do great work here this week.
So, yeah, sometimes there are the conversations that are a little lacking in Christian charity, and in sensitivity toward people I care about, but that's one of the "perks" too. Knowing the success of our work, witnessed to by the generosity of our Jesuit alumni, helps outweigh the criticism of those who fail to see the good.
So, the book manuscript has been submitted, which is a relief. But with that comes the back and forth reevaluation in my head. Maybe that part wasn't really finished. That part was really good. Does it really all come together? Does it provide what I wanted it to? Yes, there's enough there that many different people will be able to getting something out of it. Did I limit the audience too much? Or not enough? Blah, blah, blah.
I expect this is normal, and I'm counting on editorial feedback. And, of course, there is always the fear that they'll return it and say: This is really awful. But I'm pretty certain that won't happen.
In the meantime, I'm throwing myself into my summer work as a parish priest. And starting to look ahead to other things like moving, the young adult retreat I'm working on next month, my own retreat, and a new school year at a new school. So, I guess it's helpful that stuff is running around my head as well!
Today I again had one of those experiences where as a priest I feel like I just have to sit silently, and hope that maybe God gives me something to say, if God wants me too. And, if not, God will take better care of things than I can . . .
A friend expressed some concerns about this post. So, I've removed it, at least for now, to consider his concerns.
If you're interested in my thoughts, feel free to write me at my e-mail address.
My creative energies have been focused elsewhere lately. So, I hope you have not been "put out" by my absence.
My book, which has been floating far too long in the ether, is nearly complete. I'm not sure why it has been such a prolonged effort, but I hope it will prove to be worth it. It has been a fascinating experience of inspiration, frustration, change and nurturing. Chapters moved, titles changed, and the realization that it will never be quite "done." How much to explain? How much to leave to the reader? The hope and the trust that ultimately it will be up to the reader to finish, for it is for him and her and them after all.
This is all to say that my lack of blogging ought soon to produce a material reward, in 2010. Here's a description, I prepared for the publisher:
Part memoir, part cultural critique, part Christian apologetic, Title Yet to Be Finally Determined is Jesuit Fr. Mark Mossa’s spiritual primer for young adults searching for God in their life.“You may have noticed that there are not a lot of Catholic Christian spirituality books out there that speak to your experience,” he says to the reader, “I noticed that too.”This book is Mossa’s attempt to begin to make up for this lack, by delving deeply and honestly into his own young adult experience.While doing so, he invites the reader to agree to one key insight, which provides the book’s basic structure: “Whether we like it or not, each of us has a past, present and future.And . . . they’re connected.”
Indeed, as the title suggests, Mossa’s book is all about making connections.That, he says, is what the spiritual life is all about.It has to be more than just a vague feeling of self-transcendence.True spirituality, he insists, must connect us with God, and other people.Drawing inspiration from sources as varied as Marlon Brando and the Psalms, Gerard Manley Hopkins and Kermit the Frog, Adam Sandler and U2 he invites young adults on a journey to finding God already present and active in their lives, in their relationships and in their culture.
Along the way, by also sharing his own successes and mistakes, and the lessons he learned from them, he hopes to offer insights more suited to the complexities of life in the late 20th and early 21st centuries.What does it mean to allow myself to love and be loved? Can I ever really forget the pain of my past life?How do I discover the unique life that God is calling me too?Inviting young adults to embrace what he calls a “spirituality of desire,” Title . . . seeks to start them on the path to an adult spiritual life, one energized by the common human desire to be with God.
Sound interesting? I hope so.
I have promised to submit the manuscript Monday, and there is only a little and much to do between now and then. So, see you on the other side.
Please pray with me that my finishing touches will be sufficient, for now.
On a Monday morning two weeks ago in Quebec, the Poor Clare community got a rare treat. My newly ordained Jesuit brother Andre had come to say mass for them. And with them he brought two Jesuit deacons (soon to be ordained themselves) and three Jesuit priests, including myself, to concelebrate. It was a wonderful celebration, and each of us even dared to make a contribution to the prayer, in French. The Sisters held a reception afterward for Andre and, as we gathered round, they insisted Andre tell the story of his vocation. It was in French, of course, so I was only able to get the gist of it, not all the details. But when he was finished, I completely understood when one of the sisters commented (in French also), “So, you’re a young priest, but an old Jesuit.” We laughed, but also nodded our heads, because what she said was true.
Today I celebrate a year as a priest. And it is truly something to celebrate! I love being a priest, even though it has only been one year, and there are still so many “priestly” things I haven’t done. So, no need to change the name of the blog. One year in, I’m still a rookie. But I have also been a Jesuit for almost 12 years, and that, to me, is just as much cause for celebration. That’s why I’m glad that today was pretty low-key as far as anniversary celebrations go. I didn’t preside at a mass to celebrate the year. Instead, I concelebrated the first mass of another brother Jesuit. Then, I enjoyed the day with several other brother Jesuits—spending the afternoon in the city, going out to dinner, seeing a movie and just talking. A fitting way for this “old” Jesuit to celebrate the gift of my “young” priesthood, a gift inseparable from whom I have become because of my brother Jesuits and, of course, the people whom I’ve had the privilege to minister with and to. Next week I’ll celebrate with them.
One of the exciting things about being a priest, especially a Jesuit priest, is that we are not always sure what kind of situations we might find ourselves in that demand our ministerial skills.The recent General Congregation spoke several times, as has the Pope, about how often as Jesuits we are especially called to be on the “frontiers” of faith and culture.Some of my most privileged moments of connecting with people have been outside of typical “church” contexts.Traveling from one place to another, for example, you never know what kind of need you might encounter.Often there’s a chance to help someone, or listen to their story in a way that is part of my priestly vocation, even if that person doesn’t even know that I’m a priest (I don’t wear clerics 24/7).But I also like it when I’m with a group of people, my fellow German students last summer, for example, in which I just happen to be a priest sharing an experience with them.A lot of the time the fact that I’m a priest doesn’t make a difference, but there are times that it does.There are the conversations—what’s it like?And there are the times when people do have a need to talk about something, or ask for help, and they know that I’m someone who they can probably count on.
I’ve noticed recently that I run into a lot of people that I would term “religiously indifferent.”They’re not hostile toward God or religion.And they are often very good people.However, for some reason, it hasn’t occurred to them that God should be a part of their life.It makes me wonder what it would be like to be “chaplain” to a group of people that one is not typically chaplain to.Like bikers, circus performers, journalists, buskers, CEOs or something like that.Those are interesting “frontiers” one could explore!
Father Jim Martin has offered a peek into just such an experience in his book A Jesuit Off-Broadway.Don’t let the title fool you.This isn’t a light-hearted reminiscence on one Jesuit’s brief dalliance with the New York theatre world.It is a remarkably engaging and often deeply moving account of being a priest on the frontiers of faith and culture, of finding God in new and surprising ways.He almost seamlessly moves from his account to being theological advisor to the off-broadway production of The Last Days of Judas Iscariot to reflections on some of the most profound theological questions, and does so by showing us how the troupe of actors which he came to know and love struggled with those same questions.Fr. Martin admits to being a little star-struck at first, especially having the likes of Philip Seymour Hoffman as the play’s director.But he soon enough got over that to see how real these people were, and how serious they were about honoring the lives and beliefs of the characters they were portraying—Saint Monica, Saint Thomas the Apostle, Judas, Jesus, Mother Teresa, etc.As his story progresses, we witness not only the sometimes uncomfortable birth of a work of art, we see how Fr. Martin and the cast are transformed by the experience.All this is placed in the context of the Christian tradition in a revealing and enlightening way, and as one continues to read, one starts to feel as if they know and love this group of people, just as Father Jim comes to know and love them too. And one sees how the Spirit works in varied and surprising ways because a priest has been introduced into what at first seems a “foreign” context, but which eventually is revealed by compelling portraits of each of the cast members, as a place—a holy place—not so foreign at all.I think I’ve become this book’s biggest fan.
One of the most moving parts of the book for me, came at the very beginning, in the foreword by the playwright, Stephen Adly Guirgis.He explains:
“I asked many questions that, perhaps, one is not supposed to ask, and, on occasion, Father Jim would reply with answers that perhaps he was not supposed to give.I tried to—and needed to—leave no stone unturned, and Father Jim, secure in his faith and his priesthood, never did anything but supply direct answers to pointed questions.And he did so kindly, thoughtfully, and with both a passion for the subject and a wealth of com-passion for me—his confused, often irate and disconsolate lapsed Catholic Interrogator.In short, he was everything I think a Priest should be: caring, thoughtful, strong, unimpeachable—and up for the challenge.In short, I have no doubt that Father Jim is one of Jesus’ true soldiers.And trust me: I’m not the doubt-free type.I drown in doubt, and to the degree that that’s true, Father Jim, from our first meeting and right up to today, is slowly teaching me to swim.”
I'm taking some time to reflect on Pope Benedict's latest message to priests, on the Feast of Corpus Christi:
“Being Eucharist! This must be our constant desire and duty so that the sacrifice of our existence accompanies our offering of the Body and Blood of Christ at the altar. Every day, from the Body and Blood of the Lord we find that free and pure love that renders us worthy ministers of the Christ and witnesses of its joy."
One of the nice things about being a religious priest is that you frequently get to celebrate mass with several different communities. This, however, can also be a challenge. If I remember, I remind myself before mass about the specific practices of a particular parish, or even a specific mass at the same parish, because sometimes they do things differently on weekdays and weekends. However, it is often the case that I have to take a moment in the course of mass to stop and think, especially if I've been on a "roll" and have spent several weeks doing the same mass. This forces some improvisation at times, either on my part, or the part of the liturgical ministers. If I've poured all the wine, and I wasn't supposed to, that can make it difficult to offer communion under both species as planned. Or if the wine is already poured into separate chalices I might forget that the wine in the main chalice is for me alone, and pour too much. One parish offers communion under both species. One doesn't. One does on the weekdays, but not on Sunday. Each community has its own way of distributing communion, so I try my best to be in the right place, but that doesn't always work either. And, of course, there are the times when the "last-minute recruit" ministers get confused, so that while I'm trying to hand one my ciborium after communion, she instead hands me hers!
Trying to keep this all straight can be even more of a challenge those weeks, like one I had a while back, when I find myself saying mass in six different places in one week! I depend on people when I arrive to tell me what to do, how they do things, etc. This at times takes a little coaxing because many are apt to defer to me and say, "whatever you want, Father." After which I have to convince them that what I really want is to do things the way they are accustomed to doing them. It usually gets worked out. However, we still don't always get things straight. Recently, after a music director told me they were singing "everything," we had a very awkward silence when it came time for the "Gloria." As we discovered, once I asked in the middle of mass, "everything" meant "everything but . . ." Most recently, when offering daily mass somewhere for the first time, the server whispered to me halfway through mass, "Do you know we have adoration after mass?" No, I said, nobody told me that, just tell me what to do . . .
You only have to be a priest for a little while to realize that those that obsess over everything in the mass being "perfect," are doomed to be disappointed. As much as everyone involved makes the effort to ensure that it is reverent, prayerful and perhaps even inspiring, there will always be those little gaffs which remind us that our worship, as our lives, is beset by human frailty. And I expect this is as it should be.
Ordination season has begun. Please pray for our new "rookie" priests. This weekend I had the pleasure and privilege of attending the ordination of one of our newest Jesuit priests, Father Andre Brouillette, SJ, of French Canada. He's pictured above with Cardinal Marc Ouellet, the presiding bishop. Still a new priest myself, it brought back a lot of the feelings of my own ordination less than a year ago. And it was especially moving because I got to share it with my friend and his family (even if the language gap made communication a challenge at times--my French is very rusty). It was also a community event, as several of us traveled from Boston to be there with Andre. Below, you can see Father Peter Nguyen, SJ, who, like me, was ordained last year, laying hands on Andre (I was in line right behind him).
In the United States, all our new Jesuit priests will be ordained in the next three weeks. Some of our international brothers who study here with us will also be ordained then, as well as in July in August. I know many of them, and they will be a great gift to the Church. But I also know they face many challenges. So, again, please pray for them, and all the rest of us rookie priests.
You can find more photos from the ordination, as well as the Cardinal's homily (in French) here.
One of my favorite things to do as a priest--believe it or not--is to hear confessions. Some people are afraid to go to confession because they are afraid that the priest is going to yell at them (and, unfortunately, it may even have happened to them once). Honestly, I can't imagine any reason why I would feel compelled to yell at someone during a confession. One might need to be firm about something at times, but there's still no need to yell. Indeed, my experience is that usually it becomes a joyful and healing conversation, once the person has gotten past the difficult part of confessing his or her sins. Sometimes people laugh, sometimes they cry, but it is because it has been a good experience. Another reason people don't go is because they feel embarrassed because they don't know what to do. I wouldn't let this deter you because, in my experience, nearly half of all my confessions have been with people who weren't sure what they were doing. I'm happy to help. In fact, I often have to stop people from leaving because they've stood up to go before I've had the chance to give them absolution! Also, there's no shame in bringing a "cheat sheet" along with you. Busted Halo has provided a pretty good one, which advises: "Don't get up to leave after that prayer [the act of contrition] because the best part is yet to come: The priest will extend his hands in your direction and he will pray the Prayer of Absolution . . . " So, give it a shot, bring the sheet along with you, and don't run out before you've gotten what you came for!
I suspect that many American Catholics, like myself, will be happy when this Sunday has passed. Many of those on both sides of the Obama at Notre Dame debate will, hopefully, wake up on Monday morning wondering what they got so worked up about.
One of the interesting questions surrounding the controversy is what, in the end, it is really about. For many it is truly about the life of the unborn. Many others, however, have mixed motives. So, is it about morality, faith, culture or politics? Here are two interesting takes on the controversy that I’ve read lately:
Among the reasons for my long absence has been the completion of my STL thesis. I finished everything last week. And, since I did so that late, I was not expecting to graduate. Well, yesterday I was informed that I am. So, I've had to scramble a little to get myself ready for Monday's festivities!
This will close a chapter of my academic career, just as I prepare to start a new one. This August, I will be moving to New York City to begin PhD studies in Theology at Fordham University. I will also set about the task of confusing the Catholic world by living and working with my friend, Fr. Mark Massa, S.J. I'm not sure if the world is ready for this, but I'm looking forward to it!
Those of you who are in the vicinity of New York (e.g. Penni, Amy, etc.), I hope you will come visit! School starts the first week of September.
Things have been crazy lately, and I thought I should do something special for my 100th post! But, alas, my Mothers' Day homily will have to do.
“He’s got a face only a mother could love.”I suspect you’ve heard this expression a few times in your life.Despite the fact that it is meant to serve as something of an insult to the person to whom it’s directed, the expression wouldn’t exist if we didn’t tend to believe in the premise behind it.For the presumption that comes with this expression is that a mother’s love is something extraordinary.Of all people in the world, it tells us, the person whose love we can always count on is our mother.Mothers are known for their heroic love, loving their children even when no one else seems to, or seems able to.It is this kind of love which we celebrate today, when we thank our mothers for everything they are and have been to us.
But that expression also got me thinking.Why isn’t there an equally valid expression, “he’s got a face only a Christian could love”?Because isn’t it true that our love for others is also something that people should be able to count on, that our love for others is meant to be something heroic.Indeed, God tells us that even should a mother forsake her child, he will not abandon us.And, as the people of God, we are challenged to do the same, to love with a love that goes even beyond the heroic nature of a mother’s love.To love like Jesus did.
It’s not easy.Take our first reading today, for example.Here we have the Apostles, who knew Jesus, faced with Saul, one of those that were persecuting them, saying now, “I am one of you!”“Jesus appeared to me and told me to join you.”Our text, from the Acts of the Apostles, says at first “they were all afraid of him.”They didn’t exactly welcome him with open arms.But they did give him a chance to prove himself.And they were eventually convinced of Jesus’ claim on his life, and his sincerity.Using the image from our Gospel reading today, we can say that they saw his fruits, and saw that they were good.
My fear is that today not only do we fail to love as we should, but that more and more in the political climate of our country today—and don’t fool yourself into thinking for a minute that it hasn’t infected our church community—we are not even allowing ourselves to see what kind of fruits others are producing.It’s easier to attack and demonize and not get to know the other person at all.Instead, we trust what other people, who have political agendas, have to say about them, instead of seeing for ourselves.
In today’s political climate, I don’t think Saint Paul would even have been given a chance to demonstrate the truth that Jesus had called him to be an Apostle.The so-called Christian bloggers would have made mincemeat out of him before he even had a chance to demonstrate the fruits of his calling.I read the blogs and the editorials aimed at people who are deemed “not Christian enough,” for whatever reason, and I can tell you that charity does not rule in what many of them write.And, lately, because I do occasionally write in such venues, I’ve taken to asking myself, and I’m encouraging others to do the same: Does your love for the unborn, for the poor, for Jesus cause you to speak uncharitably and contemptuously of others?And do you even really know these people well enough to make such judgments?I know there are times when I could answer “yes” to the first question, and “no’ to the second.And I also know that is not what Christian love is all about.
Given the ways in which we so often fail, I suspect there is not a lot of hope for adding that new saying, “He has a face only a Christian could love.”We’ll have to stick with Mom for now.And we should also look to Jesus.One of the most striking things about Jesus is that he never failed to share a table, even with those he criticized and even with those who were known to be public sinners.Loving them was always more important than shunning them.Adding them to the community of believers was always more important than isolating them because of their unbelief.Healing them was always more important than pointing out how sick they were.
Of course, it’s easy enough to say when faced with everything Jesus did and was, “I’m sorry, but I’m not Jesus.I can’t love like that.”I suspect there are mothers here who once thought of themselves, “how can I be a mother, I can’t love like that.”And then that day came when her child was born and suddenly she found herself capable of a love she never imagined.Gathering together on Mother’s Day to worship our great lover Jesus, we are invited to imagine ourselves capable of heroic and even Christ-like love and to make that the fruit by which we will be judged by the world, and by which we judge others.
What's a "hyphenated" priest? It's a priest who is also pursuing one or more other occupations. I am a student-priest, professor-priest and writer-priest. I am also a Jesuit priest, but that doesn't get a hyphen. I am currently doing all these things at Fordham University, in New York City.
