J
JReducation
Guest
Why do religious brothers and consecrated brotherhood always seem to be ignored on these forums, especially vocation forums?
I’m not complaining, but asking an honest question. I’m a brother and very proud to be one. There is something about being called Brother. When you walk into a room full of kids or a parish and people raise their arms and wave, “Hi Brother,” a certain warmth fills your heart like nothing else in this world can do.
I always feel that Christ is truly among us and that I’m standing in his place as the brother who was sent by the Father for the sake of his people. My life is to give it up, not for my sake, but for the sake of my Father’s childen who are my brothers and sisters.
While I do not celebatre mass or any of the other sacraments as clerics do, my life is not my own. It belongs to you my brothers and sisters. For Christ has called me from among the weak and the sinful to serve you as Joseph served his brothers when they arrived in Egypt. My role in Salvation History is to foreshadow the coming of the Messiah; much like John the Baptist foreshadowed the coming of Christ. My mission is to be among those who await the salvation that comes from our God, not with my arms crossed wondering what to do next, but with my arms open, holding the door open for those who want to enter the wedding banquet before the groom arrives.
My life is neither complicated, nor mundane. It is simple and exciting in many respects. My typical day begins with silence in front of the Eucharist, awaiting the morning sun. After what seems like a long period of prayer I join the Church to proclaim the rising of the Son in the morning Liturgy of the Hours. From there I proceed to the Eucharistic table, to feed along with the rest of the Church and to prepare for the day, which will be spent with the disabled, the poor, the selfish and sinful and those who are lost and need a brother to hold them in their arms.
After a quick cup of tea and nothing else, I proceed to the River Jordan, where I will proclaim the coming of the Lord to those who are in need of material, psychological and spiritual help. I do spiritual direction, counseling, teaching, preaching, nursing, and even baby-sitting.
At noon, I stop for a breather. I spend more time with the Lord in silence and again another hour of the Divine Office. After a small lunch, I return to my duties among God’s people, preparing the way of the Lord, so that when the priest arrives he may find them ready for the great gift of the sacraments.
During these afternoons I often spend time listening to an adolescent who wants to talk about his struggles in school, the sense of isolation that leads him to a promiscuous life looking for love and acceptance. I walk with a parent who is lost and wondering why God has punished him with an uncontrollable or sick child. My afernoon ends with a quiet period of prayer before the Blessed Sacament and another hour of the Liturgy in communion with other brothers, but most of all, in communion with the Church in heaven an on earth.
Then there are dishes to wash, laundry to be done, housekeeping to do and a small supper to eat with my brothers. Afterward, there is that meeting with the girls that I met last week. They are pregnant. They’re frightened. They’re looking for an abortion, a way out. I ran into them on the street. I spoke with them. They ran away. I followed them. They stopped me and asked me why. I told them, “I am Joseph, your brother. Do not be afaid. Come with me and I will show you what God has in store for you and your baby.” They reluctantly came. I was not sure where to take them. I put my hands into the pockets of my habit and I have no money. “Oh yeah, I forgot. I made a vow to live without property all the days of my life, just like the Holy Family, just like Christ and the apostles, just like my father Francis. I have no money.”
But I am Brother. I am stand in the place of the eternal Son of God who is the firstborn of many brothers and sisters, the one who could not save his life, because he had no bond money, the one who did not want to save his own life, but only to give it for those whom the Father had loved into existence.
I am not a priest. I cannot offer fogiveness of sins. I cannot confect the Eucharist and feed their hungry souls. I am nothing, but I must be someone. I must be Simon who helps Jesus carry his cross. I must be Mary, who stands at the foot of the cross in awe at what is happening to her son, yet full of faith that the Father has a plan to be revealed in the fulness of time. This is the only thing that I have to offer these people, the promise of a plan.
My vow of chastiy reminds me that I no longer belong to me. My body and my life are not min, but they belong to the body of Christ. I return to my community house to spend time with my brothers, to be reunited with the others in the upper room waiting for the coming of the Lord. Together we spend a happy evening of recreation. Then it is time for silence. The night has come and it is time for one more hour of prayer, the last hour of the day, Night Prayer. It is the hour that reminds me of my promise of obedience. During this hour of prayer, I am reminded that I too die. I too will have to give an account of my day and my life. I too will have to confess how well I have obeyed the voice of God as it comes through the Church, the holy rule, our founder St. Francis, my brothers and the opportunities that have knocked at my door today.
Maybe, this way of life is not worth thinking about. Maybe that’s why no one speaks about it on these forums. Or . . . maybe that’s why Mary was not a priest. Where there is a Christ, there has to be a Mary.
Fraternally,
Br. JR
I’m not complaining, but asking an honest question. I’m a brother and very proud to be one. There is something about being called Brother. When you walk into a room full of kids or a parish and people raise their arms and wave, “Hi Brother,” a certain warmth fills your heart like nothing else in this world can do.
I always feel that Christ is truly among us and that I’m standing in his place as the brother who was sent by the Father for the sake of his people. My life is to give it up, not for my sake, but for the sake of my Father’s childen who are my brothers and sisters.
While I do not celebatre mass or any of the other sacraments as clerics do, my life is not my own. It belongs to you my brothers and sisters. For Christ has called me from among the weak and the sinful to serve you as Joseph served his brothers when they arrived in Egypt. My role in Salvation History is to foreshadow the coming of the Messiah; much like John the Baptist foreshadowed the coming of Christ. My mission is to be among those who await the salvation that comes from our God, not with my arms crossed wondering what to do next, but with my arms open, holding the door open for those who want to enter the wedding banquet before the groom arrives.
My life is neither complicated, nor mundane. It is simple and exciting in many respects. My typical day begins with silence in front of the Eucharist, awaiting the morning sun. After what seems like a long period of prayer I join the Church to proclaim the rising of the Son in the morning Liturgy of the Hours. From there I proceed to the Eucharistic table, to feed along with the rest of the Church and to prepare for the day, which will be spent with the disabled, the poor, the selfish and sinful and those who are lost and need a brother to hold them in their arms.
After a quick cup of tea and nothing else, I proceed to the River Jordan, where I will proclaim the coming of the Lord to those who are in need of material, psychological and spiritual help. I do spiritual direction, counseling, teaching, preaching, nursing, and even baby-sitting.
At noon, I stop for a breather. I spend more time with the Lord in silence and again another hour of the Divine Office. After a small lunch, I return to my duties among God’s people, preparing the way of the Lord, so that when the priest arrives he may find them ready for the great gift of the sacraments.
During these afternoons I often spend time listening to an adolescent who wants to talk about his struggles in school, the sense of isolation that leads him to a promiscuous life looking for love and acceptance. I walk with a parent who is lost and wondering why God has punished him with an uncontrollable or sick child. My afernoon ends with a quiet period of prayer before the Blessed Sacament and another hour of the Liturgy in communion with other brothers, but most of all, in communion with the Church in heaven an on earth.
Then there are dishes to wash, laundry to be done, housekeeping to do and a small supper to eat with my brothers. Afterward, there is that meeting with the girls that I met last week. They are pregnant. They’re frightened. They’re looking for an abortion, a way out. I ran into them on the street. I spoke with them. They ran away. I followed them. They stopped me and asked me why. I told them, “I am Joseph, your brother. Do not be afaid. Come with me and I will show you what God has in store for you and your baby.” They reluctantly came. I was not sure where to take them. I put my hands into the pockets of my habit and I have no money. “Oh yeah, I forgot. I made a vow to live without property all the days of my life, just like the Holy Family, just like Christ and the apostles, just like my father Francis. I have no money.”
But I am Brother. I am stand in the place of the eternal Son of God who is the firstborn of many brothers and sisters, the one who could not save his life, because he had no bond money, the one who did not want to save his own life, but only to give it for those whom the Father had loved into existence.
I am not a priest. I cannot offer fogiveness of sins. I cannot confect the Eucharist and feed their hungry souls. I am nothing, but I must be someone. I must be Simon who helps Jesus carry his cross. I must be Mary, who stands at the foot of the cross in awe at what is happening to her son, yet full of faith that the Father has a plan to be revealed in the fulness of time. This is the only thing that I have to offer these people, the promise of a plan.
My vow of chastiy reminds me that I no longer belong to me. My body and my life are not min, but they belong to the body of Christ. I return to my community house to spend time with my brothers, to be reunited with the others in the upper room waiting for the coming of the Lord. Together we spend a happy evening of recreation. Then it is time for silence. The night has come and it is time for one more hour of prayer, the last hour of the day, Night Prayer. It is the hour that reminds me of my promise of obedience. During this hour of prayer, I am reminded that I too die. I too will have to give an account of my day and my life. I too will have to confess how well I have obeyed the voice of God as it comes through the Church, the holy rule, our founder St. Francis, my brothers and the opportunities that have knocked at my door today.
Maybe, this way of life is not worth thinking about. Maybe that’s why no one speaks about it on these forums. Or . . . maybe that’s why Mary was not a priest. Where there is a Christ, there has to be a Mary.
Fraternally,
Br. JR