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I was born for this

I stood in the middle of the intersection at 2 a.m. Usually these two roads are humming with cars, but now they were silent. I looked in each direction and considered how my life was about to change irrevocably. 

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A gift from the Father

There are some things in life for which no amount of preparation will ever be adequate. April 10, I learned that ordination is one of them. 

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Learning to preach, a joy and a challenge

“Can anyone summarize Mike’s homily in one sentence?” So begins the round of “commendations and recommendations” on my just-delivered practice homily from three seminary classmates and a priest formator. Over the course of this academic year, my second here at the Pontifical North American College in Rome, our class is assigned to preach 12 practice homilies. In addition to preparing and delivering homilies for consecutive weeks of Advent and Lent, we receive specific pastoral scenarios, such as preaching in the gym of a Catholic high school on the solemnity of the Immaculate Conception.

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A knock on the door

Knock knock. I heard some movement inside the apartment. A small elderly woman’s face peeked through the window, then pulled the door open. “Oh, Peter. I wasn’t expecting you to come today, but please come in.” She immediately ran over to grab some holy water and her Bible and brought them to the small table where we sat. 

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Livestreams open ordinations to all

One of the most inspiring and beautiful ceremonies we can witness as Catholics is the ordination of a priest or deacon. You see men in the prime of their lives, lying prostrate in front of the altar in humility to ask the intercession of the angels and saints. The bishop, through the Laying on of Hands and the Prayer of Ordination, invokes the Holy Spirit on each man to ordain him, imprinting a new sacramental character on his soul, and setting him apart as a minister of Jesus Christ.

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Making a mini pilgrimage

Our journey begins in the dark, before the first rays of the sun bring light and warmth to the city and, no less significantly, before any coffee has been consumed. No one speaks, but the gentle “click’”of rosary beads reveals the internal prayer taking place amid the external silence. Winding through the dark, narrow streets of Rome, I find myself surrounded by unfamiliar buildings and am grateful that someone knows the way. We round a corner and arrive at a dimly lit, half-full church that is centuries old. A bell rings and Mass begins. One journey ends, another continues. 

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