Month: April 2019

As well as being Holy Week, this was a big week for me in several other respects. The beginning of this week saw my last few days at Consolata, the end of my formal language classes, along with saying goodbye to the Fathers, seminarians, my fellow students, my teachers, and the staff at the language center. I am now in Mombasa, joining three other Maryknoll Lay Missioners – Mike, Kathy and Coralis, and am about to start the next phase of my life’s journey here.

The week started with Palm Sunday Mass at Holy Mary Mother of God Church, which is a Consolata parish in the Githurai section of Nairobi. Fr. Jude invited me to join him for Mass at the parish. The parish is a 30 – 40 minute drive from the Consolata seminary. On the way we picked up Fr. Jude’s brother Domenic, who is a software developer and was in Nairobi for work. Domenic and I talked about the projects he is working on and I told him a bit about what I was doing at IBM before I left to come to join Maryknoll. It has been about six and a half months since I left IBM. On the one hand it seems that time has flown by so quickly since then. On the other hand, it seems like such a distant memory at this point. Before the Mass, everyone gathered in a large lot next to the church for the blessing of the palms. This was followed by a procession into the church and then the Mass. The church is very big and it was packed, with people having to stand around the sides of the church as there weren’t enough seats. Fr. Jude had to stick to a pretty tight schedule as there were four Masses scheduled at the church with not a lot of time between Masses.  In fact, our Mass had to start a little late because the prior Mass was still being celebrated when we got there. 

On Monday I had my final exam for my Kiswahili class. My teacher, Jacken, had told me that the test would be easy, but given his past track record with statements like that, I took it with a grain of salt. True to form, the exam was long and I thought pretty challenging. The exam took me about four hours to complete, at which point I called it quits so that Jacken could go home and so that I could make it to lunch before they took the food away. My last class with Jacken was on Tuesday morning. He proceeded to compliment me on how well I did on the exam. He especially called out the essay part of the exam where I had to write about why I wanted to be a missionary – all in Kiswahili, of course. However, he then went on to temper his nice remarks by reminding me that I still need to learn to speak the way I write on exams. Yes, I know, but when I write or take an exam, I have time to think about things and formulate what I’m going to write. However with speech, everything needs to be done in real time. Hopefully with lots of practice …

On Monday after lunch, I met with Brian, who teaches IT classes at the language center. Although I was somewhat familiar with the IT classes there, I was interested in speaking with Brian to learn a little more about what he teaches in the classes. I’m not sure what ministry is in store for me in Mombasa, and I have a little time to figure that out, but helping people learn computer skills would be of interest to me.

On Tuesday morning, Jacken and I went out for burgers, fries and a beer at the mall, which is a short walk from Consolata. It was a little early for burgers and beer, but I’m so glad we went. It gave us a chance to say goodbye and for me to thank him for putting up with me for four and a half months. I probably drove Jacken crazy with all my questions. It is never good enough for someone to tell me how to do something. I always need to know the underlying reason behind how it works. So it is with me and languages.

When Jacken and returned to Consolata from our goodbye meal, we discovered there was an assembly going on in the amphitheater style hall at the school. An assembly is held for all the students at the beginning of a new session of classes which began the day before. My class from the previous session was just concluding as we have a few days to make up from the last session. Fr. Denis, the Director of the Consolata Language Center, was nice enough to interrupt the assembly that was in progress this morning and have everyone go outside to take a group photo with me. I had told him that I had to leave in a few minutes and wanted something to remember my time at the school with my fellow classmates, teachers and school staff. It was a very nice way to say goodbye.

On Tuesday afternoon, a few of the Maryknoll seminarians picked me up at Consolata to take me to the Maryknoll Fathers’ house for dinner and to stay the night. I would then leave for the train station directly from there on Wednesday morning. It felt strange leaving Consolata, my home for the past four and a half months. I can’t thank the Fathers and seminarians enough for making me feel welcome and part of their community while going to school there. I had the opportunity to live, eat, pray, celebrate Mass and do pastoral work together with them. I also learned a lot from them by watching the way they approach being a missionary. The Fathers and seminarians referred to me as Brother, even though they know I’m a lay missioner. The Fathers also jokingly called me “tajiri” which means “rich” in Kiswahili – that is, rich as in wealthy, not short for Richard.

I was so happy that I got to spend some time with the Maryknoll Fathers and seminarians before I left for Mombasa. I’m not sure when the next time I’ll be able to visit them. We ate dinner together on Tuesday night. Early on Wednesday morning, I joined Fr. Lance and the seminarians for morning prayers and Mass. During Mass they prayed for me and then gave me a final blessing at the end of the Mass. I was a wonderful sendoff.  On Wednesday morning, before I left for the train station, I got an opportunity to talk for a bit with Fr. Joe Healey. As I mentioned in a previous post, I got to meet Fr. Joe when he came to New York to teach a session on small Christian communities during my Maryknoll orientation program. I also referenced some of his research in that previous post. Fr. Joe was kind enough to give me copies of two of his published books on small Christian communities as he knows that I’m an interested in them and had the opportunity to do some work with the small Christian communities in Kibera with the Consolata seminarians. I’m not sure how or if small Christian communities will fit into my ministry in Mombasa, but I pray that the Lord will both guide me along the path he desires me to follow and ensure that I truly listen to what he is telling me.

Steve and Loyce Veryzer, along with their children, Justin, Abigail and Claire, who live and work in Tanzania and were in my Maryknoll orientation class in New York last fall, happened to be staying with Maryknoll Fathers while on break and on their way to the coast of Kenya. Steve is American, but has been working in Tanzania for a number of years with Peace Corp and other NGOs. Loyce is Tanzanian and teaches math in a secondary school. The Veryzers live in Mwanza, Tanzania. By pure confidence, we were all on the same train to Mombasa. So we shared two taxis to the train station and ate lunch together there. It was great to see them again and reconnect. On their way back home from the coast, they are going to stop in Mombasa, so I’ll get to see them again on Monday.

Kathy and Mike were nice enough to meet me at the train station and welcome me to Mombasa – even though my train got in at night and Kathy had to get up early for work the next morning. They spoil me! I went home with Mike and am staying with him in his apartment for a few days. Mike is showing me around the area of Mombasa where he lives. It is all very different for me I’ll reflect on this at a later time as I’m still trying to get my head around things. This is quite a different experience for me.

As I write this, I’m heading into my final few days at Consolata. I will be leaving the school and Consolata community here in Nairobi and beginning the next stage of my journey in Mombasa with my fellow Maryknoll Lay Missioners there. The next few days will be pretty busy as I prepare to make the transition.

Not that there aren’t animal parks in Mombasa, but on Saturday I took the opportunity to visit yet one more animal park here in Nairobi, within walking distance of the school, before I leave Consolata. I asked Dee if she wanted to accompany me and she accepted. We met up on Langata Road where you turn off to go onto the road where the entrance to the animal park is located. This was a little more than a 20 minute walk for me from Consolata, but Dee had to take two matatus (minibuses) to get there from home. As the traffic here in Nairobi is always problematic, even for matatus that often times pass other vehicles by driving on the wrong side of the road and driving in what passes for the breakdown lane, I ended up making it to the meeting point well before Dee. We passed through security at the entrance to the Stedmak Gardens, the complex of facilities where the animal park is located – everyplace here has security checkpoints –  and made our way to the ticket counter to purchase our admission tickets. We both managed to talk our way into getting the Kenya resident admission rate, which as I mentioned previously, is much cheaper than the non-resident/tourist rate, but not quite as cheap as the citizen rate. I manage a few of these small negotiating victories – again, pretty much the price is negotiable for almost everything here, but Dee is much more a master at it. I’m still learning. In any case, as we both now have our work permits approved, we are actually entitled to resident rates. Dee didn’t have her paperwork, but we still successfully made our cases.

The Animal Park at Stedmak is a little different than that other parks I’ve visited. Where I usually prefer seeing mammals, this park was much more geared to birds, snakes, and other reptiles. However, there were a few lions and cheetahs at the park also. I enjoyed our visit a lot and am glad we went. The highlight of the park for me was getting to hold some of the animals – specifically an owl, a few other birds, a few turtles, a chameleon, and a snake! I was surprised to learn afterwards how terrified everyone here is of snakes and how a number of other visitors to the park would not even go near the snakes let alone hold one. I’m not a big fan of snakes, and while seeing a random snake outside (or even worse, in the house) would freak me out, in the controlled environment of the animal park, it didn’t seem like a big deal.

After the park, Dee and I stopped for lunch. She had promised me good choma (BBQ in Kiswahili), but yet again, we were disappointed by the food we were served. We ordered chicken and goat, but both meats we were served were cooked earlier and simply warmed up when we ordered them. Not surprisingly the food was overcooked and dry. I just can’t catch a break here when it comes to food. The few times I do eat out, usually turn out to be a disappointment. To rub salt in the wound, Dee and I visited Rongai yesterday. Rongai is a gritty town on the outskirts of Nairobi that is a short ride from Consolata. Although plagued by traffic jams, poor drainage, garbage and dusty dirt roads, Rongai has numerous roadside shops with decent furniture (built in workshops attached to the shops), clothes, and even electronics at low prices. Rongai also has a number of good places to get choma. The places I saw looked to have delicious choma, but alas being a Friday during Lent, I couldn’t partake. Doubtful I’ll have the opportunity to go back there before I head to Mombasa. I can only hope there are some good places to get choma in Mombasa.

After the choma disaster, I took a matatu with Dee to the coffee shop in Karen that she likes. As we have had coffee there in the past, I knew it was decent, and it gave us an opportunity to salvage part of our dining experience for the day – even if just coffee. Also, as Karen is the halfway point between Consolata and where Dee lives, she only needed to take one matatu home and I only needed to take one to get back to Consolata. After coffee, we parted ways.

On Sunday, I went with Fr. Geoffrey and four seminarians for Mass at a local prison. The Consolata Fathers celebrate Mass there each Sunday morning for the prison staff who either live in housing at the prison or nearby. The chapel is not within the walls of the prison and so Mass there is attended by the staff and their families. The Mass was very well attended and there were also a number of children of the staff at the Mass, which was celebrated in Kiswahili. After Mass, Fr. Geoffrey invited us up to introduce and tell a little bit about ourselves in Kiswahili. I managed to say what I wanted entirely in Kiswahili, but it was actually more difficult for the seminarians, who happen to be from South Sudan, not Kenya. The seminarians from South Sudan don’t speak Kiswahili and are not even studying it at Consolata as all the seminary classes are taught in English. One of the seminarians was able to say a little in Kiswahili before reverting to English, but the others spoke pretty much entirely in English. I felt their pain. I have come to realize that these, I’ll call them “witness talks”, are pretty beneficial. I can see how much the people appreciate the fact that I care enough to be here in Kenya and that I’m making an effort to learn the language.

Yesterday, Friday, after returning to Consolata from Rongai, I attended the Way of the Cross, which started at 5:45 PM local time. During the Way of the Cross, which is celebrated at Consolata every Friday during Lent, all the seminarians, a number of Fathers, Sisters, and a few language school students walk in procession around the Consolata grounds reciting the stations and singing hymns as everyone moves between stations. For the past several years, I’ve attended the Stations in the Street on Good Friday at St. Thomas Moore Church in Narragansett, RI, where I was living, with my sister, Tricia, and sometimes with my sister-in-law Lynn, niece Kaitlyn, and nephew Brandon. While I won’t be able to do the Stations in the Street in Narragansett this year, I was glad to have the opportunity to do the Way of the Cross in a somewhat similar setting here at Consolata.

After the Way of the Cross yesterday, an Italian Consolata Father, who has resided in Kenya for many years and currently lives at the Consolata formation house a short distance away from the seminary, led the entire community in a traditional Passover Seder meal, the Jewish ritual feast, which consists of fifteen ordered procedures and marks the beginning of the Jewish Holiday of Passover. The Seder meal included readings, drinking four cups of wine, eating herbs dipped in saltwater, eating matzah, eating bitter herbs,  and singing. Although there was no Jewish Rabi present, several of the Consolata Fathers are biblical scholars who teach at local Catholic Universities in Hebrew. They have been celebrating the Passover Seder meal at Consolata for the past several years. Although I had wanted to attend a Passover Seder meal for a long time, but never did, I was happy to  have the opportunity to do it at Consolata. I just find it a bit odd that my first Seder meal took place in a Catholic religious community in Africa! Joining us for the Seder meal were a number of secondary school (high school) students who are visiting Consolata for a few days. The students are from a Catholic secondary school in central Kenya and are spending a few days living at the seminary to learn about seminary life and possibly help them to discern a vocation. It was great to see so much interest from high school students.

Something that I have been thinking a bit about this week is what it means to be a missionary. Not that I hadn’t thought about this a lot when discerning to become a Maryknoll Lay Missioner, but two things that came up this week got me thinking about it again. The first was a dinner conversation that several of the Consolata Fathers were having. The second was an article that I read online this week, or to be more exact, the comments about an article that I read. The meaning of missionary is still an evolving concept for me. Obviously, I’ve come to what I believe is some understanding of what it means, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be here in Kenya right now. On the other hand, I expect that my ideas will evolve and hopefully deepen as I continue on in this journey. So I presume that what I say here is a snapshot in time of my current understanding of what it means.

The dinner conversation that got me thinking about mission revolved around an Italian Consolata Father (as I hopefully have previously mentioned, the Consolata Missionaries are a congregation founded by an Italian Catholic priest, Blessed Giuseppe Allamano) who didn’t consider Consolata priests who lived and worked in Italy, and possibly those who lived and worked outside of Africa, to be missionaries. I also understand that this priest’s view was that missionary work was strictly pastoral work and that priests, who perhaps taught in seminaries or who worked with seminarians in their formation, were not missionaries.

While I believe that there is some distinction between someone who is a priest or a lay person who does ministry work in a traditional parish setting, in say the US, and someone who is ministering to people in a war-torn area in Africa, I also believe that the Italian Consolata Father’s definition of missionary misses the mark. As the Church teaches, the Church’s mission, given to her by Christ, is the proclamation of the Good News. Pope Saint Paul VI stated that the Church “exists in order to evangelize, that is to say in order to preach and teach, to be the channel of the gift of grace”. The key points that I take away from this statement from Pope Saint Paul are that the Church exists to evangelize and that we are the Church. The Church is not just the pope or the bishops or your parish priests. The Church is the body of Christ, that is, all of us. Pope Saint John Paul II  perhaps more directly puts the responsibility for evangelization squarely on each of our shoulders when he says “No believer in Christ, no institution of the Church can avoid this supreme duty: to proclaim Christ to all peoples.” As I will reflect on more fully in a upcoming post, Jesus compels us to be a light to the world. Every baptized person receives from Christ the missionary mandate to “Go into all the world and preach the Gospel to the whole creation” (Mk 16:15) So, all of us, by virtue of our Baptism, are missionaries. St. Paul says “If I preach the gospel, this is no reason for me to boast, for an obligation has been imposed on me, and woe to me if I do not preach it!” (1 Corinthians 9:16)

You may now be thinking that I’m advocating that every one of us needs to climb the nearest pulpit or stand on the street corner and preach the Gospel with forceful words. In fact, this is exactly what I do not feel my role as a missionary is. Which brings me to the second thing that got me thinking about mission this week. I read an online article by a non Catholic in a secular online publication where he talked about how he tries to live out his Christian faith in today’s culture. I thought the article was good, but what unfortunately struck me more deeply were all the nasty comments that were posted about the article. The comments ranged from being militantly anti-religious to those that quoted bible passages out of context to make Christianity seem absurd to those who attempted to engage in a rational conversation with those who were only interested in putting religion down. Where this ties back to my idea of mission is that I believe we most effectively preach the Gospel and evangelize through the way we live our lives, not by how effectively we can preach or how eloquently we can defend doctrine. I’m not trying to say that preaching or defending doctrine are bad or that they are not needed, but rather that what I believe matters more is how we live out our faith and our witness to our faith lived out in our daily lives. This is summed up in that famous quote, widely accepted to be dubiously attributed to St. Francis, “Preach the Gospel at all times. Use words if necessary.” Our actions do indeed speak louder than our words. I remember a homily on evangelization where the priest conjectured that if Catholics truly lived the Gospel and others were witness to this, our Churches would be overflowing. Speaking for myself, I know that I can’t preach, with words or actions, what I don’t possess.

“God has created me to do Him some definite service. He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another. I have my mission. I may never know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next. I am a link in a chain, a bond of connection between persons.”

Blessed John Henry Newman

However, I don’t believe any what I have just said should not be used as an excuse to not talk about our faith. Jesus tells us “Everyone who acknowledges me before others I will acknowledge before my heavenly Father. But whoever denies me before others, I will deny before my heavenly Father.” ( Matthew 10:32-33). In my opinion, the interpretation of the First Amendment to the United States Constitution’s separation of church and state is many time deliberately misinterpreted simply dismiss religion completely from all discourse. However, if we talk the talk, but don’t walk the walk, no one will take us seriously anyways. I view my role as a missionary as one of evangelization and preaching the Gospel, but primarily through my actions, work and how I live my life. But yes, I will use words when necessary.

Pope Francis I believe rightly said, “Solidarity with the poor is at the heart of the Gospel; it has to be seen as an essential element of the Christian life”. There is no question that Jesus not only taught but lived this out. However, as one reflection on this quote which I read commented, “the difference between “the” and “an”, in this case (referring to “an essential element” in Pope Francis’ quote), is the difference between saying, “The purpose of the Church is solidarity with the poor,” and saying, “Solidarity with the poor is an expression and demonstration of the purpose and nature of the Church.” I hold the latter view. The nature of the Church is mission and its core reason to be is evangelization. However, the only way to truly live this out is to live in solidarity with the poor and marginalized. 

My brother Michael often asks why I felt the need to go to Africa to do missionary work. In some sense, I believe that deep down, he really grasps the idea that mission is not simply about serving in some far off place. While what he says is certainly true, that there is plenty of missionary work that I could do in the US, my answer is that I feel that what I am currently doing is the best expression of the witness that I want my life to be with the hope that I evangelize through this witness. I guess we often don’t think about or realize the effect that our simplest words and actions have on others. But since being here in Kenya and doing pastoral work, I’m starting to better see how much just the simple gestures – attending Mass and Small Christian Community prayer meetings, trying to speak Kiswahili and stumbling through my “witness talks” – have an impact on people. Even though I may not be doing much, just my presence, effort, and willingness to stand in solidarity with them makes a huge impact on the people I encounter.

Pope Francis I believe sums up what I’m probably inadequately trying to convey when he said “We know there is but one mission of the Church of God, and that every baptized Christian has a vital part in this mission. Your gifts as lay men and women are manifold and your apostolates varied, yet all that you do is meant to advance the Church’s mission by ensuring that the temporal order is permeated and perfected by Christ’s Spirit and ordered to the coming of his Kingdom.” This is how I view my missionary role – to advance the Church’s mission of evangelization and the coming of His Kingdom. My ministry work and hopefully the way I live my life serves as a witness to my belief in the obligation to build the Kingdom of God here on earth as manifested in my solidarity with the poor and those in need.

God is good.

The Consolata Fathers celebrate Mass at various places during the week and on Sunday, in addition to the daily Masses for the seminarians in the Seminary Chapel, where I often attend Sunday Mass, and the Father’s Chapel, where I attend daily Mass. This includes celebrating Mass at the Flora Hostel Chapel on the grounds of the regional headquarters of the Consolata Sisters, Kenya High School, a local prison, and at the University of Nairobi. The Fathers have a rotating schedule of Mass duties. Wanting to experience something different and seeing that Fr. Samuel was scheduled to celebrate Mass at Kenya high school, I asked him after breakfast on Saturday if I could join him. He said no problem, but told me that he was doing parochial work on Sunday and not celebrating Mass at the high school, but that I was welcome to join him. I now am aware that the Fathers are many times asked to help out in parishes and, if needed, ask another Father to fill in for them for their previously assigned Mass duty. I enthusiastically told Fr. Samuel that I definitely wanted to join him.

Putting this in the category of be careful what you ask for, Fr. Samuel then proceeded to tell me to meet him at 6 AM to leave Consolata and that he was celebrating two Masses that day, not just one. By then there was no turning back, but it was all good. It ended up being a very rewarding day and am so glad that I asked Fr. Samuel to join him.

First stop on Sunday morning was the Kahawa-Soweto settlement, which is a slum in northern Nairobi. Although I have been doing pastoral work with the seminarian in Kibera while at Consolata, I have not had the opportunity to attend Mass at any of the parishes in Kibera. Our pastoral work has revolved around Small Christian Community meetings where we pray, read the Gospel and reflect, but without the Eucharist. The chapel at which Fr. Samuel was celebrating Mass was quite a ways into the Soweto slum, but he drove all the way up to the chapel along the narrow, dirt roads within the settlement and parked the car right outside the chapel. Driving within Kibera is not possible and when we do pastoral work there, we have to walk quite a ways within Kibera to meet with the Small Christian Communities.

The chapel, like the other structures in Soweto, as well as in Kibera, is in reality a tin shack with a dirt floor. The chapel contains unattached wooden benches – enough to seat I’m guessing about 2oo people. To my surprise, the chapel not only has lights, but also microphones, which the priest and lectors use, as well as two decent size flat screen monitors where the words to songs, readings and prayer responses are displayed during the Mass! The chapel was packed for the 7 AM Mass and people were dressed nicely.

Fr. Samuel did a great job with the Mass. He had the congregation very involved, especially during his homily. As Fr. Samuel usually speaks at a fast pace in English, in Kiswahili he seemed, at least to me, to speak at a blistering pace. It was nearly impossible for me to keep up. However, it appears that the congregation kept up fine. At the end of Mass, Fr. Samuel called me up so that I could say a few words about myself and what I’m doing in Kenya. I talked a little in Kiswahili and some in English – the way most Kenyans speak anyway.

Unfortunately, besides the one photo above, which I found on the web, I’m not sharing any other pictures from Soweto with this post. On the one hand, I wish that I were including more photos so that you can get a better sense of what the places and things I talk about, like the chapel, actually look like. On the other hand, I’m hesitant to take or post pictures of the pastoral work in which I’m involved. I certainly don’t want exploit the situation for a photo opportunity. As it just does not feel right to me at this point in time to include photos, I hope my descriptions suffice. This may change as I feel more at home in some of the places I visit.

The experience of visiting and helping with pastoral work in the slums is stlll hard for me to process, let alone describe. The living conditions are horrid with residents lacking the most basic necessities, but the people, especially in their faith life, appear genuinely happy. There are about 2.5 million people living in approximately 200 informal settlements in Nairobi. This represents  60% of the population of Nairobi, but the residents living in these slums occupy only 6% of the land area that makes up Nairobi.  I understand that there have been many ideas floating around as to how to address this issue, but so far nothing has seemed to have been done.

As hopefully comes through in my blog posts, Kenya appears, at least to me, to be a land filled with contradictions – honesty and hard work juxtaposed with corruption, wealth with poverty, natural beauty with filthy conditions. There are affluent neighborhoods bordering slums and large houses in fairly close proximity to tin shacks. In some areas, the affluent and impoverished seem to work together – with the less fortunate providing cheap labor, as an example. In other areas, the relationship is very confrontational. I don’t know they dynamics of the slum and faith community in Soweto where I attended Mass, but there appears to be some support for them from wealthier parishes at least in the form of equipment like microphones and monitors for the chapel.

After Mass, Fr. Samuel and I headed to St. Joseph Mukasa Catholic Parish, Kahawa West, a local parish staffed by Consolata Fathers, for some breakfast. My understanding is that the St. Francis of Assisi Sowetto chapel, where we just attended Mass, is an outstation of St. Joseph Mukasa Catholic Parish. The parish has a beautiful Church and parish center, which I am told was the original Church before the current church structure was constructed.

The second Mass that Fr. Samuel celebrated and I attended was in a parish in a new development under construction. There are no paved roads once you turn off the main road into the area under development. However, once you are on the dirt road, you see massive homes under construction. Again, the contrast. Not that this sort of disparity doesn’t exist in the US, it just appears to me to be in higher relief here in Kenya. The parish does not have a church building yet. It is still in the planning stages. While there is house for the Fathers on the property, the Mass is currently celebrated in a huge tent structure with an altar at the far end and filled with hundreds of plastic chairs. There had to be at least 500 chairs set up for Mass and they were pretty much all full for the Mass. After the Mass, there were at least 20 minutes of announcements, with different leaders or groups going up to talk about the latest news regarding their ministries. This included three young catechists who talked about youth religious education with a lot of energy and passion, which was great to see. This seemed to be a very vibrant parish, although still under development, with lots of involvement from the parishioners. After the announcements, as I now knew he would, Fr. Samuel introduced me and called me up to say a few words. Gratefully, as things were running late, he told me to just speak in English (as most of the ministry leaders did anyway, although the Mass itself was in Kiswahili). I just gave them a little personal background, told them why I was in Kenya, and what I hoped for in my ministry in Mombasa.

After Mass, we headed back to the Fathers’ house at St. Joseph Mukasa for lunch. Before we ate lunch, I had an opportunity to walk around and see the church grounds. A Mass had just finished. I waited for people to stream out of the church and then took a few pictures of the church, which as I mentioned, was very beautiful.

As Fr. Samuel was going to stay at St. Joseph Mukasa for a while longer, I caught a ride back to the Consolata Seminary with another Consolata Father and three seminarians who were heading back that way. I arrived back at Consolata around 3:30 PM. It was a great day.

The thing that stuck most with me during this past week was a Lenten reflection I read on Wednesday.

‘It’s so hard to be good!’ And so we have to practice. It is hard to become a concert pianist. It is hard to become an expert surgeon. It is hard to become an outstanding ballerina. We have to practice and practice and practice. If this is true of the worldly arts, it is more true of the art of spiritual fidelity.

Mother Mary Francis P.C.C. from A Time of Renewal: Daily Reflections for the Lenten Season

This made me immediately think of St. Paul’s words in his Letter to the Romans, which speaking for only myself, seems to aptly describe many of the things I seem to do.

What I do, I do not understand. For I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate.

Romans 7:15

So, I keep telling myself, as with all things at which I want to be good – practice, practice, practice.

When Justice Antonin Scalia died in February of 2016, his son, Fr. Paul Scalia, a priest in the Diocese of Arlington, Virginia gave the homily at the Funeral Mass celebrated in the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C. In his homily, Fr. Scalia said the following about his father.

He tried to love God and neighbor but, like the rest of us, did so imperfectly. He was a practicing Catholic—practicing in the sense that he hadn’t perfected it yet. Or, rather, that Christ was not yet perfected in him. And only those in whom Christ is brought to perfection can enter Heaven. We are here then, to lend our prayers to that perfecting, to that final work of God’s grace, in freeing Dad from every encumbrance of sin.

Fr. Paul Scalia, from the funeral homily for his father, Justice Antonin Scalia

How much I can relate to what Fr. Paul said about practicing in that sense that I haven’t perfected it yet. All of this can seem rather daunting, but I trust that the final work of God’s grace that Fr. Paul talks about will be accomplished in me through the grace of God. God made us for eternal happiness with Him. We just need to allow Him to work through us to accomplish this. Let us pray that we all obtain the perfection that God desires for each and every one of us.

This past Wednesday’s Mass reading has, what is for me, one of the most comforting verses in all of Scripture. I know that God is always there for me waiting to bestow His gifts upon me, even though a lot of times I don’t deserve them. But fortunately, God gives out of love, not according to what we deserve. In fact, He gives even more to those who are in the most need. I am confident in the fact that God never forgets me and is there for me at all time.

Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you.

Is 49:15

God is good.