Now that we have returned, here are some photos that round out our experience!

“Never forget,” Fr. Kevin Regan exhorted us at 6:30am Mass in Jamaica before heading to the airport. Our St. John Paul II Seminary vice-rector reminded us of that bumper sticker, popular after the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center in 2001, so that we may fight for our memories of the Mustard Seed mission trip that concluded yesterday. In the coming weeks and months, we’ll need this lesson. 

Stepping onto Jamaican soul for the first time after 30 years, I was filled with anxiety and excitement. After a few days talking to my Jamaican brothers and sisters, it was like I had never left. I learned about their many sufferings to meet basic needs and why people must often revert to crime. However, I sensed fertile grounds for the message of the gospel to change their lives.

We wanted to upload a few photos from our time here so far! These pictures are few and small as we have a limited internet connection during our trip. But we wanted to get as much to you as we could in real-time. 

Most of my prayer in the first few days of this mission trip was spent asking “Lord, why am I here?” The heart-stretching challenges I had been anticipating for months - the ones I feared would make me uncomfortable but also hoped would help me grow in holiness - failed to materialize.

We wanted to upload a few photos from our time here so far! These pictures are few and small as we have a limited internet connection during our trip. But we wanted to get as much to you as we could in real-time. 

These are the words that are displayed in every chapel where Mustard Seed Communities work. Returning to Jacob’s Ladder after two years for another mission trip, I was glad to remember this as I walked into the chapel at the center of the property.

“Give them some food yourselves.” This impossible task is proposed by Jesus to his Apostles directly before He miraculously feeds 5,000 of his followers. With only five loaves and two fish available to them, the first twelve priests of Jesus Christ had no way of knowing how their resources would benefit so many in need. 

I marvel at the Polish pope’s achievements. He penned innumerable publications, helped defeat communist ideology in Europe, and became one of the most famous persons of the 20th century. But the most remarkable thing about these worldly accomplishments is that he didn't need any of them. He simply received them. They were secondary and incidental to his single-hearted pursuit: complete surrender to and unity with Christ.

The Son of God, on the greatest day in human history, having just risen from the dead, chose to invest four hours in just two disciples on the point of despair.

If seminary has taught me anything, it’s that you can’t do anything without God and this retreat reinforced that. As soon as we entered silence, I knew something was different; the silence wasn’t empty. The silence was a perfect medium for God to speak and He did so in a multitude of unexpected ways.

“The voice is the most personal instrument there is,” a professor once told me. Before entering seminary, I was pursuing a Master’s degree in voice performance. I was preparing to be an opera singer and a teacher of voice at a university. The voice had a central importance in my life. Since I left vocal performance to follow God’s call to the seminary, the voice has now gained a spiritual importance.

The love, devotion, and intercession of the divine is so incredible at this seminary. It inspires me in faith to form relationships with beings that I cannot see such as my Guardian Angel. Angels have a unique ability to help us receive the grace of Christ. The summit of joy we obtain from this beautiful alliance is simply that we never have to worry about being alone. Remember that your Guardian Angel walks with you and guides you.

Two years ago, when I signed up to go on the seminary's mission trip to Jamaica over spring break, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. The trip was filled with joy. These men and women may carry heavy crosses, but the reverence they had in the presence of our Lord and the enthusiasm with which they prayed was absolutely inspiring. Their hearts were on fire with the love of Christ.

Storytelling is all about our human capacity to enter into communion with others. Storytelling works because we are able to sympathize with characters—to feel what other people feel even without meeting them. The skill of storytelling is vital for a priest. Telling stories is part of everyday conversation, but also, in a certain sense, the whole job of the priest is to make visible present truths and realities that are not immediately visible, drawing people in to a place where they can encounter Christ.

This meal we share on Thanksgiving is not too different from the meal Christ shared with his disciples. But this meal was more than ancient Israeli cuisine. Jesus said, “Take, eat; this is my body. ”Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you;  for this is my blood.” In these enduring words, Christ calls our attention to his Crucifixion. And yet, he gives thanks! How can he be grateful knowing he is in the face of unimaginable suffering?

Wednesday is my favorite day of the week. By all accounts it has no right to be, but late in the evening on Wednesday, deep in the suburbs of Bethesda, I get the opportunity to spend a little over an hour teaching sixth graders at Little Flower Parish about the Catholic faith. And in this unassuming assignment, God revealed to me a real, unexpected joy.

This summer I was preparing to enter medical school at Georgetown University when I began to seriously consider entering seminary. It was precisely this human love that prompted it all. True love multiplies. The love of my married friends begets a certain spiritual generativity--it opened my heart to a spiritual reality. Their love and their marriage is, in a very real sense, for the whole world.

The Nats were the oldest team in baseball, but given the fun they had down the stretch, they could have been mistaken for the youngest. The best priests are men who never "grow up.” They remain children at play, living only and always in their identity as beloved sons--completely dependent on a good Father.

Last year I was working as a journalist in New York City. One look at my schedule showed you work came before anything else. I squeezed my faith and friends in as much as I could; time for prayer was sandwiched between meeting a deadline and the subway ride home. Nine weeks in, I haven’t stopped marveling at life in the seminary.