My Journey: The EPIC Pilgrimage

    Now that the summer is long behind me, I can begin to look back with discerning eyes.  Before now, I have refused myself the opportunity to reflect on this summer in any depth, in order to allow any lingering sentiments of loss to fade away.  It's true: I felt the deep pang of loss when coming back to school.  Over the course of three months, my fellow walkers had become my closest companions, and frankly, it hurt to part ways.  But eventually the pain gave way to appreciation, and now that regret has faded away, I am ready to reflect.

    When thinking about this summer, I began to ponder the "epic journey".  In literature and media, the epic journey is an effective storytelling device.  The Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Odysseus, and even the Bible all use this structure.  It arranges large amounts of plot and character development not only along a timeline, but also a physical path.  This geographic organization gives the growth of the characters tangible location.  I find a beautiful parallel here to the concept of the pilgrimage.  When one makes a pilgrimage, they undertake a journey that values the destination just as much as the path itself.  The growth of the pilgrim is tied to specific events and locations, providing a physical testament to his maturity.  I have begun to see my Walk in this light: Crossroads was an "epic pilgrimage". 

    The beauty of the epic is that specific challenges and joys have locations.  In looking over some of my favorite epic stories, I have found a basic structure that underlies most of them.  First, pre-journey doubts torment the main character, and only the support and influence of those closest to him convinces him to embark on his journey.  Then comes the initial challenge, where the character is tested for the first time and filled with hope and courage by overcoming this obstacle.  After this comes many more challenges, through which the main character gains skills, confidences, and virtues that will be necessary for the final challenge of his journey.  This final challenge is the climax of the journey, in which the character's growth is tested to its furthest limits.  After this final challenge, a denouement brings us to the end as the character reflects on the ways he has changed.  This structure is echoed in my Walk:

    a) Pre-journey Doubts: Before this summer began, I was haunted by pre-journey doubts.  I told my friends that I was going, but I didn't believe it.  I thought that it would have been impossible to afford a whole summer without an income, and for that reason I neglected to send out letters asking for sponsors until a week before I was supposed to leave.  It was only the prayers of those closest to me and the less-than-subtle pressure from my family that encouraged me to stop worrying and just go for it. 
    b) Initial Challenge:  the first time that I questioned my motivations for being on the walk came in the Cascade Mountains in Washington.  The Day Shift scaled the mountain range over the course of one day, climbing several thousand feet in a matter of hours.  To make matters worse, there was a driving rain and freezing temperatures.  We grimaced as we passed huge snow drifts that did not yet have the chance to melt by late May.  We pushed ourselves that day because we had to: trucks came over the top of the range and then coasted down the mountains at higher and higher speeds, which made walking uphill far more dangerous than downhill.  We realized that we had to make it to the top of the range while there was still daylight, to make the walk safer for the Night Shift.  I think it was a wednesday: I got shin splints that day.  Every muscle in my body ached, and my shins were so tense that I could barely point my toe forward.  The next morning, I knew the meaning of pain, and in that pain I discovered a new strength: determination.  I was determined enough to get out of bed, lace up my shoes, and begin walking again.  If I could do that, I knew I could do anything.
    c) More Challenges: Several more challenges helped to teach me virtues that I would need for the rest of the summer.  The plains of South Dakota taught me patience.  Seeing the road stretch on for miles ahead and vanish into the horizon is both aggravating and depressing.  A found within myself a powerful patience that allowed me not only to press on, but to do so with joy.  The heat of Minnesota and Wisconsin taught me to trust in prayer.  At the end of June, a heat wave joined forces with the drought, making Minnesota and Wisconsin the hottest and driest place in the country.  The corn never made it above knee high here, and we barely made it through.  On tuesday night the group sat down for dinner, and I could see in their eyes what I myself had been terrified of: we were not going to make it.  It was only tuesday, and we were utterly destroyed.  But we didn't give up, because we still had one more option: prayer.  We prayed.  I prayed.  And we made it.  We all found the strength to walk one more mile. 

    d) The Final Challenge: We met our final challenge at the end of July.  On a friday morning in Ohio, John came to me and told me that a walker had died.  Hit by a car; dead on the road.  Words can not describe the blow those words had delivered.  Even now, my stomach painfully turns at the mere memory of the event.  The news was devastating.  Those words brought me to tears.  They weighed down on me, simultaneously testing every one of my weaknesses.  How could I press on, if not for the determination I learned in the Cascades?  How could I see a way out, if not for the patience I learned in South Dakota?  Most importantly, how could I even consider moving on, if not for the reliance on prayer that I had gained in Minnesota and Wisconsin?  This challenge was a tragedy, one that I survived due to the virtues I had gained and the friendships I had made.  I survived.  We survived.
    e) Denouement: In Northern Pensilvania, I wrote in my journal: "I LOVE THESE PEOPLE!"  By this point in the walk, I had been through more with them then I ever had with any other group of people.  Last summer my joys, struggles, and challenges were more vivid and real than any I had experienced before.  These people and I shared the most extraordinary common experience that I think is possible.  We didn't just walk across the country, we did so much more.  Together, we found our limits, walked right up to them, laughed them in the face, and pushed on through to a greater maturity and strength.  We didn't just grow together, we flourished.

    Seeing my summer organized like this, I am intensely thankful for the great many gifts and experiences I've been given.  After this summer, I have come to recognize the amazing change that has taken place in myself.  I am a better leader.  I trust more in prayer.  I love more deeply.  I live more boldly.  These things won't just make me a better Priest some day, but ultimately a better man.  Let me give an example.  Crossroads hands out a very unique sticker that proclaims "PRO LIFE" very distinctly.  Ever since grade school, I have always had several in my possession.  Now, it is often the practice on college campus's to put bumper stickers on one's laptop.  Several times in the past years, I have pondered placing a Crossroads sticker on my laptop.  But I always chickened out, too afraid of the possible reaction that I'd get in class, amongst my friends, or in a student lounge.  I was afraid.  I was not a man.  But when I got home from Crossroads, I put not one, but two bumper stickers on my laptop.  Not only that, but one of the stickers is a God-awful shade of pink that you'd have to be blind not to see.  When I take my computer out in public, it is a loud billboard for the Truth, and I am no longer struck dumb by fear and apprehension.  Being a witness to the truth isn't that scary anymore; now courage and wisdom have overcome my fears.  I am more of a man now, and Crossroads gave me that. 

So for the last time, thank you Crossroads. Thank you everyone, walkers and staff, for providing me with this opportunity.  Thank you to my family, for pushing me along, and thank to my donors for making it possible.  Most importantly, thank you Jesus Christ.  For by your Cross and Resurrection, you have given meaning to my life. 

in Christ,
josh

Dead Man Walking

Death.  Fear it, and it will torture you.  Ignore it, and it will find you.  See it, and it will haunt you.  It is there--always there--hanging over life like a precariously hung weight above a glass masterpiece.  The slightest provocation could sever the thread that keeps it suspended above us, and if unprovoked, time and wear will still break the bridle.  When it comes crashing down, we shatter into a million pieces--each shard cutting into those who helped us to stand.  A lifetime of sculpting is for naught--nullified by the passing from existence. 

Yes, life is fragile.  It is easy to forget, but forgetting comes at a cost.  When death springs its trap, we are stopped cold in shock.  Suddenly confronted with a world we were content to ignore, our minds helplessly slip into daydreams of the world beyond.  And it scares us to death. 

Andrew Moore now resides in that world.  This morning, he was hit by a car.  He died in the road.  His rosary forever unfinished. 

A tragedy.

This was no crime.  It was dark; Andrew was tired; the driver was tired.  It was an accident.  But Andrew was prepared.  No, he wasn't prepared to be hit by a car--if he was, then we wouldn't know his name.  His preparation transcended the moment.  Young people Andrew's age are usually wayward souls, lost and desperately searching for Truth.  But not Andrew: he was prepared.  They say he was a bright young man.  They say he was considering the Priesthood.  They say he was quiet and kind.   They say he was inspiring.  They say he died praying the Rosary.  They say he gave all of his time to the Pro-Life movement.  Well, now he has given his life. 

Death is mostly terrifying for one reason in particular: we are agonizingly blind as to what comes next.  Men have dreamed about the next world for millennia, and yet armed with all their knowledge we are still terrified.  But once death strikes, there is no longer time for fear.  Andrew knows that now.  He must be in Peace.  His life bore the unmistakable marks of Christ, and so now we can know that he rests in Him.  Andrew lived a man, and now he rests a saint. 

I have found the most solace today in a quote by Henry Hyde.  I will end by leaving it here.  Know that I am in good spirits, and I am making every attempt to place my trust in the Lord, who can deliver His grace despite any evil. 

"When the time comes, as it surely will, when we face that awesome moment, the final judgment, I've often thought, as Fulton Sheen wrote, that it is a terrible moment of loneliness. You have no advocates, you are there alone standing before God -- and a terror will rip your soul like nothing you can imagine. But I really think that those in the pro-life movement will not be alone. I think there'll be a chorus of voices that have never been heard in this world but are heard beautifully and clearly in the next world -- and they will plead for everyone who has been in this movement. They will say to God, 'Spare him, because he loved us!'"

More information can be found here:
http://www.indystar.com/article/20120720/LOCAL05/120720011/Crash-killed-walker-pro-life-group-s-second?odyssey=tab

Hotter than Hades out Here

The past two weeks have been eventful and challenging.  This weekend, we are approaching Chicago, and putting more than half the country under our belts!

Last weekend we stopped in St. Paul/Minneapolis.  I had the chance to speak at two Masses, one that was filmed and one that was recorded, so my face and my voice graced the airwaves of the Twin Cities.  After the TV Mass, Father was kind enough to inform me that I have a face better suited for radio.  On Saturday night we visited the Mall of America, and I am not ashamed to say that I was so suffocated that I spent the majority of 4 hours reading in a secluded corner of one of the 6 different food courts.

This week has been difficult.  Heat exhaustion, preexisting health problems, and wear from the road teamed up with 105 degree heat and a severe shortage of rain in Wisconsin to give our group a true sacrifice.  In order to keep us going, I have been doing 20-25 mile shifts with barely a break in between.  I can truly say that the only thing keeping me going this week has been the prayers of those around me and the intercession of St. John Vianney.

Rain Rain Go Away

This is a picture of the view the morning after the rainstorm. 

      I'm on night shift again this week.  Two nights ago, we checked the weather forecast and saw warm weather with a 10% chance of rain.  In good spirits, we dressed accordingly and set out for the road.  About 2 hours into our shift, it began to drizzle.  Nothing serious--even refreshing.  A few miles later, it began to come down a little harder.  Before long, we found ourselves walking in a cold, driving rain, vastly under dressed and absolutely miserable.  It was the first time in this walk that I second-guessed why I was doing this.  Every inch of my body was wet and freezing, while the wind blew and made it even worse.  There was nothing but blackness in front of me, discouraging me from going on.  Every step was a challenge, every movement a painful sacrifice.  The only thing keeping me going was the rosary I was saying. 
      After I finished my shift, I realized that I had made the biggest sacrifice yet of this trip.  I had pushed through miserable pain, and had done so prayerfully and with determination.  Every part of my body told me to stop, to give up, to sit down and wait for the car to come bring me away from the tempest.  But I persisted.  And in my persistence, I learned that I was capable of true sacrifice.  What's more, it wasn't my own will that was keeping me going, for if it was I would surely have quit.  The grace of God pushed me forward, strengthening my muscles and kept me going.  Through I was made aware of the great strengthening power of God's love; I was truly able to unite my suffering to that of the Cross.  After those painful miles, I no longer walk alone.  My every step is made with Him; my every step is made for them. 

Where Have all the Martyrs Gone?

I just returned from watching the movie For Greater Glory, which is about the Cristeros resistance movement in Mexico.  The basic story behind these historic events of the 1920's was the attempt of the Mexican government to violently suppress Catholicism, and the heroic resistance offered by the Mexican people.  I would highly recommend the movie, despite its glorification of the use of violence against violence.  It is a beautiful movie that is sure to leave your eyes wet at the faith shown by the people of Mexico. 

As I was contemplating the movie, I had an interesting thought.  What if something like that happened in America? How would the Catholics in America respond to such a great evil?  This line of thought brought me to ponder just what kind of evils we do face in our country.  I kept coming back to the evil of abortion.  Why do we stand idle while our children are murdered?  We lack zeal.  The Cristeros had only to look around and see the many atrocities of their government spelled out in blood: thousands of Catholics hung from the telephone poles or rotted in gutters.  We have to look a little harder, but the murders are still there.  Approximately 3700 children are aborted each day.  That means that in one week, more than 25,000 children are aborted.  That means that in just 4 months, we lose more children in America than we did in the entirety of World War II.  Why do we cringe at the horror of the number dead in a distant war, when far more are murdered in almost every city in America?  I am disgusted at our indifference.  Thousands of people stood up and died in Mexico rather than live in a country that did not grant basic rights to individuals.  Where is that zeal?

We see evil, and we sit back and do nothing.  We watch it, complaining about how bad it is for those who come into contact with it, and yet we do nothing.  Looking at history, we can find a general pattern when it comes to change.  The people of a nation are faced with what they consider to be an injustice.  Enough people pressure the government into action.  The government responds either by a) a change in legislature or b) violent suppression.  Change happens, there just has to be enough pressure first. 

So how do we create pressure?  People need to get involved.  We need ACTION.  Americans are good at complaining and bad at fixing, because we don't know what sacrifice is!  We don't know where to start.  I heard a good rule for this kind of thing: come up with a number for how much you think you can give, double it, and then get started.  If you think you can afford the time to pray one rosary a week for the end of abortion, then pray two.  If you think you can give one hour at a Planned Parenthood praying for an end to abortion, then give two.  I'm beginning to get frustrated with the amount of people who think that what we are doing on Crossroads is remarkable.  If we think that action is remarkable, then no one will actually get involved.  We need to begin to expect action.  A bunch of college kids with no real commitments shouldn't surprise us when they give up a summer in order to be a witness to the Truth.  It shouldn't be considered surprising or unusual when an 85 year old woman wants to spend an hour at Planned Parenthood praying for the end of abortion.  We should begin to expect these things!  Furthermore, we should begin to consider it unusual when the most that someone does is complain about abortion on their Facebook.  We should be surprised when someone declines the invitation to get involved.  We should cringe at the thought of indifference, because if we are indifferent then we sacrifice democracy.  If we are uninvolved, then we sacrifice freedom.

Reflection on a Sleepless Night

The following was is a reflection I wrote on friday morning after no sleep and many miles:

     Have you ever seen the sun set on the coast, right as the tide begins to break? Waves crash against a weary shore, eating away at thousands of years of sand and rock.  The relentless assault on the integrity of the beach is overwhelming.  Enormous boulders begin to quake and move from their decades-old resting places, and entire sections of sand begin to disappear.  The great roar of the ocean heaving its immensity against the land is deafening.  But just as one begins to lose hope for the earth; just as one thinks that the sand and rocks and plants will finally succumb to the pressures of the sea, the light begins to dim.  The sun creeps behind the trees, fortifying the earth, giving its all, as it falls behind the horizon.  The sky fumes in protest, shooting fire across the clouds in anguish at its loss.  But as the light fades, the waves lessen their assault.  Strengthened by the force of the sun, the earth roars back, a cacophony of night creatures called up from reserve.  The waves begin to shrink in fear.  The sacrifice of the sun has brought to the earth an internal warmth, allowing it to quiet the sea.  The tide rolls out, revealing weather beaten shores, now free from drowning but still bathed in moonlight.  The moon, enlightened by the spirit of the sun, now gives the world a soft glow of peace.  Peace.  Peace settles in.  The waves now gently roll--a soft and even sound.  The smell of salt is no longer caustic.  Rather, the wet and heavy sand now breathes with the slight scent of relief. 
     Look at the example of the sun.  The earth rocks in its orbit, straining to escape the warmth of its rays.  But the sun forgives, and each year it melts the frozen hatred of a wintery land.  The sun burns with a fiery intensity, but never complains of the monotony of the constant need to renew the life of the earth.  And do not forget the sacrifice of the sunset, when the sun descends from its rightful place in the sky, in order that the earth might bear life. 
     Take heed of the sun's example.  As the terrors of the demons press down on you, wearing away at your core and threatening your very integrity, allow the sun to set behind you and sustain you in its fullness.  Love the moon and the stars of heaven, basking in the mere reflection of the sun's rays.  Forgive even in monotony; silence your complaints in love; accept your sacrifice in the depths of your heart.  And no matter how dark the night becomes, always remember the hope of the sun's rising. 

O Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us!

Lightening and bugs!