Dear sisters,
With the beginning of the school year it seems like “newness”
is all around us. For freshman, everything about college is new: a new
environment, new classes, and new friends.
And newness doesn’t go away just because one is a returning
student. I'm discovering that even as a sophomore, the beginning of the
semester brings with it a whole new kind of “newness.” This is my first
semester as a member of the Women’s Ministry Core Team. It’s also my first
semester as a member of a household. It’s even the first time I’ve written a
blog post!
A word often associated with newness is “fresh” (hence, “freshmen”) and I picture plants bursting
forth and exploding with new life. That’s what it’s like to be a returning
student when you come back and see campus exploding with new people, new faces,
and new energy!
So isn’t it strange that a time that brings so much newness for
us occurs during the Fall? After the
first week or so the exuberant excitement of Orientation and returning to
school starts to dwindle. The flowers around the Rosary Circle begin to fade
and the blistering heat of summer slips into the cool breezes and cloudy skies
that make me (because of my thin Texas blood) need a jacket. The enthusiasm we felt
towards our classes and professors has by now become tedious monotony and mild
resentment.
Yet the semester is still “new” despite the decay that seems
to creep in with the Fall season. How is this possible? Could it be that Fall, despite
all of its gradual death, is actually the first step in the new life we will
encounter this school year?
Many people acknowledge that death is a part of life.
However most view death as the final stage
in life’s process. For them it’s the end, not the beginning. But as Christians,
and even more so as Catholics, we recognize that death comes before life, not after.
Having spring before
fall is like having Easter before
Good Friday. When death doesn’t come first, life loses its significance. The
empty Cross would be insignificant if it did not first bear the Corpus. What’s more, life is not even possible without dying first.
This is why St. Paul says in his letter to the Colossians
that, “Through baptism into [Christ’s] death we were buried with him, so that,
just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too
might live a new life.” (Colossians 6:4)
So what does this mean for us as we embark upon this new school year? What steps must we take to find new life and personal growth? In reflecting upon this matter I have come up with two simple answers, both of which (in my opinion) take on a more significant meaning when connected to the Fall season.
Falling Down
We recognize that death is a necessary part of our lives as
Christians, so if you’re looking for new life in your spirituality this year
you must begin at the beginning: death. If you’re seeking a new spiritual life
that means that there’s an old life that you recognize isn’t cutting it
anymore. The solution is to let that old life die. Let it fall away like a dead
leaf falling away from a tree and allow the Holy Spirit (through the sacrament
of Reconciliation) to carry that leaf far away from where you’re planted.
Letting your leaves fall down is how we die to self. Whatever
God has in store for you this semester I’m sure it involves dying to self in
some way. God may be calling you to die to self by putting in dozens of hours
in the library, by forgiving someone who’s hurt you, or by forgiving and loving
yourself. This process of falling down and dying to self can seem harsh because
without its leaves a tree has nothing to block the wind from blowing between
its branches. Which brings me to my second point…
Falling in Love
After falling down we must now let go of ourselves in a
different way: by giving ourselves over completely to another. After all of its
leaves fall down, a tree is very vulnerable and is completely at the mercy of
the elements, especially the wind. We must allow ourselves at this time to fall
in love with God or, rather to fall into
Love Himself. The Holy Spirit can now rush in and out between our bare branches,
penetrating deeper than ever before. In this process we will sway back and
forth with the wind and will, in a sense, be falling into the wind. The branches that are dead and unable to sway will
break off and fall away, but the branches that are alive and flexible enough to
bend will remain and will become stronger.
The thing is, the Lord desires
that you be this free and open with Him that you will fall into love with Him
and he knows that you desire the same thing. He wants nothing more than to dance with you like the wind dances with
the tree. He wants you to feel that exhilaration of falling through the air
only to be caught and born up again by His Love. He wants you to know that you
can trust Him when He dips you, spins you, and throws you up into the air. As
scary as it sounds, He knows such a sensation will make you laugh and feel
truly beautiful.
Falling in love with the Lord this semester will require a
leap of faith (It’s called “falling” in love for a reason). But it is a leap of
faith that will bring you joy because it is one that will ultimately carry you
into the New Life that God has waiting for you at the end of the long Fall and
Winter.
The question is, are you willing to fall for it?
In the Fire of His Love,
Alyssa
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Alyssa is a sophomore studying Humanities and Catholic Culture, Theology, and Philosophy. She is a native of Texas where she lives with her family in a blue-roofed house on top of a hill. She is passionate about the Truth of the Lord's Incarnation and loves spending time discovering and discussing ways in which others have incarnated the Gospel in film, history, literature, politics, and art. Her favorite saints are St. Teresa of Avila and St. Catherine of Siena because they both personify St. John Paul II's "feminine genius" in her mind.
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