Life or Death: A Commentary on our Recent Pilgrimage to Poland

A blog post by Joe White, Fall 2011

  

“Before man are life and death, and whichever he chooses shall be given to him.”

– Sirach 15:17

            “Are you going to write about Poland?” my friend and co-blogger Leanna asked. “Yes. Definitely,” I responded. “I just don’t know where I would begin. How do you talk about that trip in a blog?” she asked. That is a mighty fine question. How do you write about a journey that included stops at the image of the Black Madonna, Auschwitz, Blessed John Paul II’s spot of ordination, Birkenau, the miraculous image of Divine Mercy, and JPII’s hometown? Better question: how do I write about it without making the post shallow, not giving respect to true gravity of what was experienced last weekend? I’m not totally sure, but here we go.

            The whole pilgrimage was, for me, a face-to-face encounter with reality. A while back on main campus Father Dominic gave a talk on faith and reality. “People like to use the Karl Marx quote, ‘religion is the opiate of the masses.’ And that quote is true if it’s bad religion. Real faith puts you in reality, in your world. It does not dull you to, but ought to spark you to live in and make it better.”[1] The talk had a very profound effect on me and ever since then I try to live in this reality with the faith

            Anyway, our first stop in the journey was in Czestochowa to venerate the Black Madonna, Our Lady of Czestochowa. To make a long story short, this miraculous image has saved the Polish people numerous times because of their faith. Reading the stories of her intercession in battles certainly fascinated me; however, it was the wall of canes, crutches, and other assorted tools for the disabled that hit me with the reality of prayer. These crutches were left behind by people who were healed by the Blessed Mother’s intercession—right there in the chapel before the image. As the apostles left their nets and followed the Christ, so too did the healed leave baggage behind to and step into their new found freedom. And who could discount these physical examples of the supernatural? This was a fifteen-foot wall adorned with crutches. Did the religious at the monastery hang them up to manipulate religious fervor? That many canes? There is no way. Were the people who hung them there faking it? There is no doubt in my mind that miracles happen at Czestochowa.

            On to Auschwitz: there I stood against the Death Wall, eyes fixed in front of me where hardly 70 years before hate-filled men fired away at victims who did not deserve what they received, listening to the same calm, creepy wind rustle the leaves in the trees behind me. What was once a multiple choice question on an exam, a black-and-white photo in a textbook, or an abridged non-fiction novel for my German III class, was now a glaring, draining reality. What we saw was hell. People were led in to work and die and treated so inhumanely. Few of us were gushing with emotion throughout the tour; rather, I felt flat and numb. Here I saw one side of the polarity of free will: we can choose death and exterminate one million human beings.

           

Or we can choose life. We can choose the love and mercy of Christ and transform ourselves and the world. In a free gift of self to the Lord and a free choice to love, our humanity is transformed. St. Faustina gave herself to Christ and for that reason was able to give to humanity an image and the chaplet of his Divine Mercy.[2] A meek and humble religious sister—cloistered at that—and yet she chose to allow Christ to transform her so that he could transform others—not only during her lifetime, but a century later and years beyond. With our free choice, indeed we can choose to love—to love as Karol Wojtyla did and the main saints before him.

 By far my favorite part of the trip was our two-and-a half hours in Wadowice, Wojtyla’s home town. It appeared to be just a quiet, small, unassuming town, a town where a boy grew up. The Catholic Church in the middle of town was not as splendid and ornate as the other churches we’ve visited. Nevertheless, having attended Latin mass that morning I reflected on how much I appreciate vernacular masses. And yet in this town, a child went to Latin mass in this (relatively) small church, faced with death and pain, and yet he became Blessed John Paul II, “the Great”.

I was hit with so much peace in this town that a boy was formed here. He wasn’t pope or priest—just a boy. And yet he loved and chose God and chose life. And as a sister told us this weekend, God’s secret is that he doesn’t want to give you little, he wants to give you much. Karol Wojtyla chose to let God do this for him—give him much. And through that choice, his humanity was transformed into a life-giving force—a force that continues to change lives.

           

Before man are life and death, and whichever he chooses shall be given to him. Which one do you want?

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[1] Heavily paraphrased, he said it far better than I ever could.

[2] Twas truly a beautiful, beautiful experience to receive reconciliation in the Divine Mercy Chapel in Krakow and then do penance before the miraculous image of Divine Mercy. 

Austrian Rain

A poem by Leanna Praetzel, Fall 2011

Austrian rain

Came.

Simply not

The same.

Swift the song

All along

Red roof,

Window pane.

Your name,

Scattered

In the breeze.

Carried clouds

About,

Among the trees,

Mountain top,

Through my hair.

You were there.

Thunder,

Soft and sweet.

Different.

Sin

And mercy meet.

At my window,

In my room,

Incomplete.

Playing Tag with God and the Kartause Children

A blog post by Chelsea Graham, Fall 2011

This past weekend we had a school trip to Salzburg.  It was absolutely incredible, and I certainly fell in love with the city! I enjoyed it lot more than Vienna, even though Vienna is great too. I did what all the tourists from the United States would do and went to as many of the Sound of Music sights I could, but I also went to churches, markets, etc. We finished the trip with a stop in the  ondsee and went to St.Michael’s Basilica (wedding church from the Sound of Music), which quite possibly is my favorite church we have visited thus far.

    Early this week, I was playing tag with the “Kartause Children,” who are the kids of the staff/faculty of the Austrian campus, and every time I would “tag” them, they told me that where they are is “safety” and that I’m still “it.” No matter where they were, they could never be “it.” Afterwards it struck me, how often do we play “tag” with God? How often do we ask him to change our lives, or come into our lives but then say, “Oh not this part” or “now’s not a good time” or something like that? The Lord doesn’t give up on us, but how long are we going to make him run after us? As students, or people in the work force, or stay-at-home parents, we all lead busy lives, but if the Lord of all of creation can make time for us, and wants so badly to spend time with us, how can we not give him fifteen minutes a day and a holy hour once or twice a week?

Isaiah 43:4 says, “Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you, I will give people in exchange for you, nations in exchange for your life.” He is so willing to do anything to make us happy, to let us feel his love, but yet, sometimes we just don’t let him in. Or we compartmentalize or box him into our limited understanding of reality. We let him into one aspect of our life, but put our guard up in other parts? We let him in on Sundays during mass, but the rest of the week we put him on the back shelf. Why is that when we’re with our family, God is part of our life, but at work no one even knows that we’re Christians?

This semester in Austria has already been incredible, and I love it, but truthfully I haven’t made the most of if. I’ve gone through the motions of daily mass, praying decades of the rosary throughout the day, but what’s the point if I’m not really going to let the Lord really into my life? What’s the point of all of this if I don’t have a personal relationship with him? If I’m going to thrive this semester it is not  only by traveling to as many places as possible, but by letting God “tag me” so I can chase after him and grow in Him.

I’m looking forward to playing by the new rules! 

The Hills Are Alive…

A blog post by Leanna Praetzel, Fall 2011

The time I laughed the most during a movie?  Thursday, September 15^th, 2011, 8:00pm.  The movie itself?  Sound of Music.  It seems silly for that movie to be a knee-slapper, but hey, when you’re in a roomful of Salzburg-bound buddies, the overall mood is anything but dim.

A gift from the beloved Easter Bunny years ago, the Sound of Music VHS at my house has been greatly cherished.  So, to have the fountains, statues, gardens, and more from the movie sitting before my very eyes was stupendous!  On Saturday we went on a tour through the quaint city, seeing many of these landmarks along with fun little shops and gorgeous churches.

During free time, I journeyed with my friends to a hilltop abbey where scenes from Sound of Music were filmed.  However, we didn’t appreciate the abbey simply for its fame.  We also were able to enjoy a spectacular view along with the beautiful voices of nuns singing in the choir loft of the chapel.  Leaving was an adventure in itself; I walked through a doorway expecting the abbey gift shop only to find myself in a cute little cloistered nun’s kitchen.  “Nein, nein!” she said with a smile as she affectionately shooed five ignorant Americans out her door.

In the evening some of us attended a concert in a building at “Mirabell Gardens” (think “Do Re Mi”!) where a group of musicians played masterpieces composed by none other than Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, a Salzburg native.  Music-lovers of many backgrounds attended; we sat next to a lovely lady from Russia.  The diversity of the people there helped me to see music as an entire language of its own—I might not understand the words of the German sitting in front of me and vice versa, but we both can, without any difficulty, comprehend the extraordinary harmonies singing from a talented Austrian man’s violin.

Sunday morning found me posing next to the Sound of Music gazebo and eating a rose-flavored dessert (petal and all!) at an old café.  After leaving Salzburg, the buses hauled us all to a pretty little town called “Mondsee”.  There, I was fortunate enough to attend Mass at the Basilica in which the Sound of Music wedding took place, swim in the lake where some breath-taking scenery was shot, and pick “souvenir” grass to stash in my backpack for my silly friends back home.  (Love you guys!)

Overall the weekend was a hit.  So much so, that on our way to visit some castles in Germany next weekend, my friends and I are actually going to stop in Salzburg again!  (We hope to see a miraculous statue of the infant Jesus, and attend a “Mozart Mass”.)  But I shouldn’t get ahead of myself… before that, it’s Poland or bust!

Creek Jumping 101

A blog post by Leanna Praetzel, Fall 2011

The crazy college kids who attend Franciscan University Gaming Campus have deemed it tradition to jump into “the creek”. There is, located across the street from the Kartause, what many have found to be a perfect spot for jumping; the creek pours into a hole that is around seven feet deep, and then continues onward. Students jump from tree stumps, rocks, and even thorn bushes. Many plunge in fully clothed. However, no matter the time or circumstance, countless agree that any time is good creek-jumpin’ time.

I’ve done it. I—Leanna Marie Praetzel, age: 20, favorite color: teal—have jumped in the creek. And yes, my beloved friends, I live to tell the tale. I jumped in “cold turkey” the first time (from the top), and a cold turkey I was indeed! Immediately after I came up, I could not respond to my friends asking if I was okay because of the pure, bitter shock. But, never fear, Mother dear! After a few seconds of air-gulping, I was just fine. (Although, I am convinced that a little old Austrian man makes a daily trek to the jumping spot and shovels in bucketfuls of ice while no one is looking, chuckling to himself all the while. It’s that cold!)

The second time I went in the creek was actually to soak my foot from an injury (not jumping-related, might I add). Little did I know my phone would go “gently down the stream”… although it was more like “swiftly”, and it wasn’t a dream.  That was fun.

I went with a bunch of friends one fine evening my third time around, a few of which had not yet made the initial jump. I teased them as they stopped and considered carefully for quite some time before they, too, took the leap. But then I began to wonder and, as always, question myself… Did I put any thought whatsoever into my first jump into the creek? Or was I jumping in because everyone else was? And what was that saying my dad used to tell me? I think it had to do with friends and a cliff…

Then, as I walked my chilled self toward the dark outline of the Kartause, my hair dripping along the faintly lit sidewalk, the analogy hit me. Have I been partaking in my faith based upon my own thoughts and decisions? Or have I been mindlessly playing “monkey-see, monkey-do”? I understand that comparing a feeble creek jump to the monumental decision of participating in Catholicism is a bit rough… but it really got me thinking. Of course it took me but a few moments to reassure myself that I was indeed deeply in love with the Catholic faith, and living it by my own choice. But I have since then been making sure that I am whole-heartedly partaking in all I do, whether I am praying, singing, or just plain living.

I have also decided that I really do love jumping in the creek; there is something strange about it that is both thrilling and relaxing. It’s hard to explain. But if you come out to the Kartause someday, and decide to take the plunge, you’ll know what I’m talking about.  Just be sure to watch out for slugs!

Well that’s it for now. Stay tuned for some Salzburg stories! Until next time… Tschus!

On Friends & Friendship

A blog post by Joe White, Fall 2011

Hello again, my dear readers. I write you today on a cool Austrian Monday again from the bed of my room. One of my roommates, Mike Gotta, just took all of our towels for a cycle in the wash. What a nice guy! My roommates here were either acquaintances or less of mine when we decided to room together. After three weeks of rooming together here in Gaming I would certainly classify all of them as good friends. There is something about being here in a smaller group that promotes friendship and community in a very special way. My friends and I have found that we actually want to know everyone here and let go of preconceived notions. Perhaps that makes us seem like terrible people, but I think that it is a reality for a lot of us; it is easy to become complacent when we solidify a group of friends—especially if getting that point of friendship was a weird, uncomfortable process, as it was for college freshman Joe White. Perceptions of another person can enforce that complacency. But here in Gaming, all of that seems to disappear. I have four months with these people so why not get to know them all?

          

  This takes form in different ways. As far as I have seen these past three weeks, no one “clique” claims one table.[1] No one avoids sitting with someone they do not know. Many of us look at it as an opportunity to grow in relationship with the Austria group. Different circles of friends intersect and new ties grow. And it is not merely the tables in the Mensa[2] that contribute to conversation—the food also connects us: word is spread in the long post-Mass food line on whether or not the hot food is worth eating and mutual feelings are expressed about the highs and lows of Mensa food.[3]

Friends at the 20th Anniversary Celebration

           

Yesterday a group of us went to a nearby lake. It was absolutely picturesque: a beautiful clear body of water sitting in the valley of two hills. The group I went with was a group I never would have imagined myself hanging out with and yet there we were all together, all having fun, all experiencing the same beauty. Some of us swam across the lake—and some of us (read: me) made it halfway there and decided it was way too cold and we were way too out of shape to make it the rest of the way. The water was absolutely freezing but quite refreshing when jumping off the high dive. Some brought homework readings, some soaked in the sun, some conversed with one of the families who had come down for the day,[4] and a great time was had by all. We missed the 16:50 bus that would have brought us to Gaming so instead we split off into groups and hitchhiked back—further proving my fact that the community here is awesome. Perhaps that is the biggest contributor to the deep community here: we are all different persons but are all experiencing the same, out-of-the-American-ordinary beauty—be it a lake, hill, or hopping into a stranger’s car.

            

Wherever you are at right now, look at the people around you and think of ways to grow closer to them, especially those you do not know and/or do not want to know. You will not regret it.

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[1] And I put Clique in quotations because everyone seems to make a real effort to avoid them

[2] The name of the dining hall here

[3] Let it be known to all prospective students: The food here really is not all bad. Don’t believe the hype.

[4] My goodness were they an awesome family: four children of about 13 years old, 10, 8, and 2 to my estimations. We could tell the siblings all loved each other a lot as they splashed about in the lake and kicked the football around. The mother and father seemed very happy. How could they not be with four beautiful, loving children and a lovely day at the lake? Also they were wearing dirndls and legitimate lederhosen.

A Pre-Semester Retreat in Ireland

Before the start of the Fall 2011 semester, several students met in Ireland for a two day retreat with Anne, a lay apostle, leader of the Direction for Our Times, Apostolate.

The first day was centered on spiritual activities such as talks, adoration, Mass, and confessions.  The second day included a field trip to climb Croagh Patrick Mt. and Knock shrine.  All the students I spoke with described the retreat as "such as blessed trip."   At present, we are looking at ways to continue this retreat option for future semesters.

Below are some pictures of the crew on retreat:

A View from Gaming

A blog post by Joe White, Fall 2011          

  Greetings, all. Being an internet blog, I’m not exactly sure who this all will be read by—maybe no one at all—but I hope this finds you well. It certainly finds me well. Nestled in my expansive “dorm” room on the ground floor of 14^th century Carthusian monastery which itself is nestled in between something like five enormous hills, I am certainly in an agreeable mood. Upon our arrival to the Kartause, my reaction was similar to many others’: “Is this real life?”

Here is the place I had heard about for four years at every Steubenville Youth Conference, seen friends’ photographs of, watched people return from glowing, et cetera et cetera; now I beheld what they had once beheld. As with many things related to this university, my expectations were blown away. Most people questioned “Austria? Why Austria? You’re not even in Vienna? Wouldn’t you rather be in some big European city?” Stepping out of that bus for the first time and then looking out over the valley halfway up one of the hills a week later cemented the fact: there is no place I would rather be than here. Untouched by the hands of marketing, Gaming is an authentic slice of European life, with their triangular roofs and multi-colored houses and bank attendants who speak next to no English (praise the hand of Providence for my 5 years of German study).

            Gothic archways and Baroque ceilings (adorned with beautiful frescos) showcase the artistic/man-made beauty that spreads itself across this fair city. As mentioned before, one can walk down a neighborhood road and see a red house, yellow house, orange house, and tan house all peacefully coexisting together. Cobblestone paths lead the way to the city center where one can find the grocery store, drug store, tobacco shop, and tavern. Beautiful stone bridges ford the creek that runs through the town and stone archways serve as an entrance to the intramural field.

This beauty hewn by man lags behind the pure natural beauty that surrounds the town. As mentioned before, a beautiful clear creek runs through the town.[1] There is plenty of greenery to go around: a large, wooded field lies next to Kartause for pick-up games of frisbee and the like along with gorgeous gardens in the houses next to the Kartause. Natives of Gaming have their own plum and apple trees, adding lovely, natural cover to the land. There is a waterfall some 45 minutes away from campus as well as a popular cave about an hour away. My favorite part, however, lies outside my window, behind me, and to my sides: the hills. Carve out four hours in your day and you can overlook the valley atop a gorgeous alpine foothill. I have yet to make it to the tippy top of one the hills[2] but having made it about 3/4ths of the way there I know it is well worth it.

            Oh, I suppose now that I’ve introduced where I am writing from you may want to know the writer.[3] My name is Joe White; I am a sophomore here at Franciscan and study social work. I come from Rockford, Illinois although I tell all of the Austrians I meet “Ich komme aus Chicago” because, well, it’s close enough. I look forward to being able to document time here for you and I honestly hope that these posts will benefit you in some way—especially if you are considering coming to Franciscan University to study. I remember getting emails containing posts from students in Gaming and that certainly having an effect on my decision. So here’s to a successful semester, and here’s to you, the reader. Prost!

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[1] Which itself is popular attraction for students: right across from the Kartause is about a ten foot drop into a deep part of the creek that students—myself included—jump into (some even daily)

[2] My first venture was cut short by a hunter busy stalking prey and a fall down a rock face.

[3] My narcissism prevails again

Initial Impressions

A blog post by Chelsea Graham, Fall 2011


Hey everyone!

I am just starting my semester here in Gaming, and it’salready been incredible. I’ve heard so many fantastic things from past students about their experiences here in Gaming, but I did not really know what to expect for myself. Everyone I talked to had good things to say about their time here, but they were all different.  I’m still not sure what the next 3 months have in store for me, but I am wicked (yes I’m from the Boston area!) excited to see what the Lord has planned.

Franciscan University offers its students so much spiritually on main campus in Ohio, but in my opinion, it pales in comparison to what is offered here in Austria, and the rest of Europe. This is my first time in Europe, and to me, it feels like a completely whole new world. I can’t compare the town of Gaming to anything I’ve heard of or seen in the United States. It is a quaint, small town, where everything still closes at 6:30 p.m. or earlier, the public schools start off the school year celebrating a religious service, and everything is closed Sundays. In addition, we are surrounded by incredible scenery, in which my only response thus far has been amazement. We have the opportunity to go creek jumping, climb mountains, bike everywhere, and so many other things that just let us appreciate what the Lord has given to us.

Additionally, the classes offered here are incredible. While talking to a friend here with me, we came to the decision that the university did not just choose random classes to offer here, but must have really put a lot of thought into them. Each theology and philosophy class is offered at the Gaming campus for a reason, to help the students grow and find out who they really are.

Being away from the home is hard, and it makes me appreciate what I had when I was there, but I personally believe that in order to really know who you are as a person, you have to take away everything that “defines”you and see what is left. Who are you? What makes you, you?

I can’t answer those questions now, but I am wicked excited to continue my journey here to find the answers.

“All I Wanna Do…”

A blog post by Leanna Praetzel, Fall 2011

Greetings fellow blog readers!  I’m very excited to be posting this (my very first blog) from GAMING, AUSTRIA!!!  It’s only week two of the semester and we’ve already done so many fun things: climbing castle ruins, swing dancing in the rain, petting a neighborhood cat, jumping in the creek across the street, and chasing bats around campus. 

Where we live, the “Kartause”, is actually an old monastery that now serves as a hotel/FUS dorm/tourist attraction.  And I must say—with all its spiral staircases, twisting hallways, and secret rooms, the Kartause makes me feel like Nancy Drew!  So much has happened since I arrived here in Austria, but the story I am about to share actually took place before I even left the states.

The first and last time I rode an airplane (before August 27, 2011), I had a whopping one year under my belt.  Now after nineteen years with my feet planted firmly on the ground, I was suddenly going to up and fly over the ocean into the foreign lands of “Austria”?  Silly as it may sound, I was scared… scared that I would miss my flight… that the plane would go up and never come back down… that I wouldn’t get complimentary peanuts… things like that.  It’s okay, I thought, people ride planes all the time.  Everything will be fine!

Well.  When my ticket wasn’t working and the behind-the-counter-lady said, “This never happens!”… when I got yanked from my family with hardly a goodbye and pushed through security… when my plane was leaving in ten minutes and I still had to find Gate C19… things weren’t really fine.  In fact they were horrible. 

I was a wreck!  Does this happen to everybody?  How was I supposed to do this on my own?  I had convinced myself that things were hopeless when the most amazing thing happened.  The moment I stepped out of security and into the hallway, I heard the voice of Sheryl Crow: “All I wanna do… is have some fun!”  It was with this catchy tune that I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that God was with me, in me, and all around me.

What?  What did she say?  Sheryl Crow having fun helped this blog writer to find God?  Allow me to explain.  The song “All I Wanna Do” played over and over again on the radio wayyy back in the 90’s, and my little kid self would wander around the house singing along… or belting out random words, anyway.  Between my family and me, it has ever since been “my song.”

Hearing that particular song in that exact moment of desperation showed me just how God knows my heart inside and out, and that He’s the best friend I could ever have.  Not to mention, He knew that it was just what I needed to calm down, take Dramamine, find C19, and fly myself to Austria.  I am convinced that absolutely nothing else would have helped me in such a way.

So.  After 20 years I can finally say that I have started actually becoming friends with God.  Are you friends with God?  Did you know that He is an expert on the subject of you?  Psalm 139:23 says, “Search me, O God, and know my heart.  Try me, and know my thoughts.”  Even though he already knows you, He still needs to be let in.

Well, I guess that’s all for now, folks.  Tomorrow is a class trip to Vienna, and I can't wait!  Thanks for reading... Auf Weidersehen!   

Baby Narek

For all those former students who have been writing and wondering what baby Narek Michael is looking like, he continues to change by the day--we'll actually by the hour.

In general he is a good boy with a very lively personality.  He loves the fresh air and his brothers of course.