Hanging on a wall in my office, is a glass picture etched with the first four lines of Reinhold Niebuhr’s Serenity Prayer. At the end of each group session, my clients and I hold hands and recite the prayer together. As they leave, I pray that serenity, courage, and wisdom inform their decisions as they tend to their daily lives.

On Saturday, May 18, 2013, Loyola University Maryland held its 161^st commencement ceremony. Among its graduates were members of the Pastoral Counseling and Spiritual Care Department. As they transition from the role of student to that of helping professional, I pray that serenity, courage, and wisdom inform their decisions as they tend to their clients.

The Pastoral Counseling program offers skills that graduates bring to the workforce. When they enter the world of work, they may realize that even with excellent skills, difficulties arise. Sometimes the difficulties are due to agency culture, or clients may not be motivated to change. During those occasions, we ask God to grant them the serenity to accept the things they cannot change.

For what can be changed, extra effort may be necessary. Pastoral Counselors are called to be advocates for clients. We hold hope and provide reassurance that there is light at the end of the tunnel. As clients respond to treatment, their accomplishments may radiate into our lives. Buddhist philosopher Daisaku Ikeda stated that “when one takes action for others, one’s own suffering is transformed into the energy that can keep one moving forward; a light of hope illuminating a new tomorrow for oneself and others is kindled.”  Recognizing the value of advocacy, we pray that God grant them the courage to change the things that they can.

The third attribute recalls Solomon’s response to God’s magnanimous offer to give him anything that he wanted.  Solomon replied “give your servant an understanding mind to govern your people that I may discern between good and evil” (1 Kings 3:9).  In essence, Solomon requested wisdom, and God, delighting in his selfless request, made him the wisest man who ever lived.

Socrates stated that “wisdom begins in wonder.” As Pastoral Counselors enter the workforce filled with hope, wonder, and a burning desire for excellence, my prayer is for a spirit of discernment to accompany them so they recognize the times when change is not possible, and be at peace. For those times when they can facilitate change, they should have the courage to advocate for their clients. Yet most importantly, they should trust God for the wisdom to know the difference.

Our work as Pastoral Counselors requires us to facilitate change, advocate for our clients, and be discerning about their needs. The class of 2013 is equipped for these tasks, and I am convinced that the counseling profession has received a gift with the addition of these new graduates to their rolls.

By Kathleen Gerwin

For those of you who have spent any time around teenagers, I’m going to wager that you’ve heard this sentence uttered more than once: “Oh my God, that’s SO awkward.” As a high school teacher, it’s a phrase I cannot seem to escape and one that seems to be applied to just about everything, from a parent’s overly enthusiastic greeting, to public speaking, and everything in between.

Some of this is just part of growing up. In adolescence, as your body and mind are betraying you, developing in new and strange ways, it’s difficult to not view things through the lens of awkwardness. Who among us can forget those painful adolescent moments when it felt as if the room was closing in on us and melting into the floor seemed like the best possible outcome?

What worries me about teenagers today, however, is twofold.

First, the fact that many normal, developmentally appropriate situations are being painted as awkward. For example: on a recent service trip with my students, I was driving a group of seniors from our Habitat worksite to the Church that was hosting us for dinner. Our GPS had taken us off-course, so I asked one of the girls to call the Church to inform our host that we would be a few minutes late. From the look on my otherwise extremely extroverted, socially adept student’s face, you would have thought that I had asked her to run through the parking lot naked. “Ms. GERWIN,” she cried, “That’s so AWKWARD!” The rest of girls chimed in, agreeing that calling a stranger —even for less than a minute to convey information—was in the 7^th Ring of Awkward Hell.

The second, and potentially more troubling fact, is that this generation of teens seems to have far more ways to avert or avoid those awkward moments: texting has made it so every response can be edited and reviewed by a jury of peers; silent moments at dinner can be filled with time on your phone or the drone of the TV; in a photo-shop, Facebook-centric world, pictures and profiles can be cleaned up so only the most “acceptable” self has to be presented to the world. The danger is that rather than having to sit in those awkward moments, teens—and perhaps all of us—never have the chance to come to the other side of those uncomfortable situations and realize that they won’t, in fact, kill us. Awkward moments, like adolescence, are periods of growth—often far from pleasant, but necessary if we are to develop properly.

The gift of sitting in awkwardness is the realization that there is a Self within us that goes beyond feelings, situations, or judgments. And that is certainly nothing to feel awkward about.

There are no adequate words to describe my Loyola experience. As a writer, for the first time I feel as if I am wordless.

Vernon already expressed much of my parting sentiments in his article: Don’t Say Goodbye . . . say Thank You. Therefore, I go another direction and speak to the students who are new to Loyola’s Spiritual and Pastoral Care Program, or who are still discerning if it is a correct fit for them.

My life before beginning my MA was in a serious rut. I thought I would die of boredom and lack of fulfillment if I did not take a step. However, I did not know what that should be.

As I knelt in prayer, asking God to please provide divine guidance, I heard pastoral repeatedly in my head. “What is that?” I wondered. I Googled pastoral and found my way onto Loyola’s Spiritual and Pastoral Care website. I knew I was home.

As for you, the anointing you received from him remains in you, and you do not need anyone to teach you. But as his anointing teaches you about all things and as that anointing is real, not counterfeit—just as it has taught you, remain in him (1 John 2:27, New International Version).

Loyola has anointed me. I have humbly been part of many great formational experiences: Alpha Sigma Nu, Emerging Scholars, Professional Seminar Paper, wonderful MA professors, exceptional staff, spiritual and learned classmates, Graduate Assistantship experiences working on CACREP and Continuing Education Programs, coursework, service-learning, retreats, and more!

I have just been appointed a Lay Ecclesial Minister for the Archdiocese of Baltimore, specifically as a Director of Religious Education for a local Catholic Parish. Loyola has sent me forth to minister to God’s people.

Listen to your instincts, to your intuition, and to your God. You may not have your post-Loyola future all figured out, but that is the beauty of it. If God is truly the center of our lives, then we strive to follow God’s plan, not our own.

John Lennon said it well, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” I planned to go to Loyola, and, with God’s grace, the rest just fell into place.

The author, JoAnn Harvan-Chin, with Dr. Jill Snodgrass, Dr. Ralph Piedmont, Dr. Tom Rodgerson, and classmate Pat Kennedy

I attended the Pastoral Counseling Department’s Retreat on Resiliency.  It’s my last retreat as a Loyola student. The sense of community found at Loyola is unique. We are so different, yet we are one.

I LOVE St. Anthony’s Shrine. I went to Loyola’s Self-Care Retreat last spring and wrote Shake Pray Love, one of my first blog articles. I come full circle writing this blog article likewise inspired.

I never thought I was resilient. To me, resiliency was a quality for those who have been through severe crises or hardships. It takes courage and resiliency to attend graduate school later in life, to complete a master’s program, to graduate, and to make a career change — all of which I have done.

I forgot what I always tell my spiritual directees, “Don’t judge your life.”  I judged my life story to be not particularly resilient. I was wrong. During the first break out session, we told our stories to each other. It was so healing and exhilarating to tell my story, to be heard, and to hear another.

I now see that I am resilient. I’ve gone through hardship, and not merely survived, but thrived! No longer do I judge my life. I embrace my cracks now, loving them for making me who I am today, and for the Light (God) that they let in. I want to shine that Light upon others.

While on retreat, we explored Post Traumatic Growth, and the APA’s Ten Ways to Build Resilience.

Through experiential exercises, I tapped into my resiliency to face graduation and everything else that lies ahead for me. It was great to reflect on my life, to celebrate my resiliency, and to realize that I can face whatever the future holds.

I now feel empowered. I know my resiliency. How are you resilient?

Another semester is almost over and the familiar routine begins. The furious rush to finish all papers, projects, and assignments that you knew about from week one. Then, that oft-repeated vow: that you will never wait so late start . . . again. The perfunctory filling out of class evaluations that you know you should spend more time on, but you don’t, and the lightning-fast goodbyes that we give to teachers and students alike as we dash toward the parking lot.

It is the last part of the routine that I take issue with. We say goodbye too easily. We often talk about “terminating” with clients and how much care is needed because of the emotional bonds that have been created. Yet what about the bonds created with that person who sat beside you for countless morning and evening hours? Saying goodbye to them should not be so easy. Take the time to thank them for their presence, their camaraderie, for their commiseration with you about the long nights, for their listening ear about the woes of your internship. And, of course, thank them for all the times that they agreed with you that your paper did deserve a better grade. Don’t just say goodbye, say thank you.

If the events in our country over the last few weeks have taught us anything, it is that life is precious and every day is a gift. Just like we can’t take life for granted, we also can’t take the relationships with our classmates for granted either. These are our present peers and our future colleagues, fostering and maintaining relationships with at least a few persons will produce unimagined benefits.

I have heard it said that part of what makes Loyola great is the students, and I would definitely agree. Even the students that I have disagreed with have added something to me. They have helped to clarify my voice, my views, and my beliefs and, in some cases, even my faith. That is a gift and I am thankful for it. And, to you who are reading this blog, I thank you as well for journeying with me and all the other writers as we have shared with you.

To the students I have met, the professors who challenged me to grow, and the friends I have made, I have been blessed by the gift of your presence.

I am not saying goodbye. I am saying thank you.

By Kathleen Gerwin

Over spring break, I did something I never usually get a chance to do (or admit to doing). Dressed in my most impossibly soft pair of sweats, with chips in hand, I plopped down on the couch, flipped on the TV and spent a couple of hours watching junk food for the mind, also known as Reality TV.

What is it about reality TV that’s so intoxicating—or so repulsive—to so many? It certainly evokes strong reactions either way—people may love it unabashedly or love it guiltily; they may find it vapid, deeming it worthless trash and never deign to watch, or find it vapid and just not be able to look away. No matter what the reaction, one can’t deny that Reality TV has firmly planted itself in our collective psyche. The question is: Why?

St. Ignatius Loyola may have some insight for us. One of Ignatius’ core teachings is the practice of Finding God in All Things. I think the operative word in the teaching is “finding”, meaning that while the pearl of wisdom might not immediately be apparent, all experiences are an invitation to go deeper if we are willing.

But surely Ignatius wasn’t anticipating a world populated by the Kardashian sisters or the Real Housewives of Atlanta—or was he? Perhaps one answer is that these shows embody parts of ourselves that we are unwilling to admit are there—parts of ourselves that scare or repulse us so much that we need them to be externalized, embodied by someone else. That way they stay safe and “other” and never really demand us to see them as part of us.

If I have decided that Kim Kardashian is vapid and superficial and feel just a little bit better about myself because of it, I never have to look at the ways in which I, too, am vapid or superficial. If I am outraged that there is a mom who would put her 2-year-old in a beauty pageant, I never really have to acknowledge the part of myself that is insecure about my parenting because I have such a clear example of a “Really Bad Mom.”

In therapy or spiritual work, one of our jobs is to befriend those parts of ourselves we would rather reject and embrace those parts of ourselves that we are ashamed of. To do this, we must be brave enough to acknowledge that these parts of exist. I’m not saying that you should swap your meditation practice for a Jersey Shore marathon, but we can begin to see all of life as an invitation to do just this. It could be really fun.

PHOTO: L'Osservatore Romano

As I knelt in prayer after communion one Sunday morning, I became aware that my praying had been subliminally replaced by the words of the hymn being sung by the choir.  It was a sweet melody, and the lyrics had grabbed hold of my soul:

Loving and forgiving are you, O Lord,
slow to anger; rich in kindness,
loving and forgiving are you.

(You Tube: Psalm 103: Loving and Forgiving)

I stayed on my knees savoring the significance of the words, realizing how blessed I was to be the recipient of God’s love and forgiveness.  The hymn ended, but the lyrics continued to demand my attention. I imagined myself to be loving and forgiving, slow to anger, and rich in kindness. I thought “how awesome that would be.”

The themes of love and forgiveness are not new to Christians.  They echo through religious writings, and occur often in the Bible.  In Colossians, Chapter 3, we learn that “if one has a grievance against another; as the Lord has forgiven you, so must you also do.”  In that same chapter, St. Paul reminds us to put on “heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience” (v. 12), and “over all these things, put on love, that is, the bond of perfection” (v. 14).

Practicing love and forgiveness is usually associated with spirituality, but it does not reside there alone.  If not in our personal lives, as pastoral counselors, we encounter clients whose health and/or relationships are compromised by an inability to forgive and love.  Oftentimes they believe that expressions of love or forgiveness might be misinterpreted for weakness.  Therefore, our initial task might sometimes be to help our clients release themselves from bondage by practicing forgiveness.  We help them recognize how challenging it is to love when filled with rage and resentment. Forgiveness offers them freedom to love.

What happens when one refuses to forgive?

If you’re unforgiving, you might pay the price repeatedly by bringing anger and bitterness into every relationship and new experience.  Your life might become so wrapped up in the wrong that you can’t enjoy the present.  You might become depressed or anxious.  You might feel that your life lacks meaning or purpose, or that you’re at odds with your spiritual beliefs.  You might lose valuable and enriching connectedness with others. (Mayo Clinic)

We can reverse those symptoms.  When we love and forgive we imitate Jesus, who with his dying breath asked his heavenly father “forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34).  We must strive to love and forgive as our heavenly father loves and forgives us.  “God never gets tired of forgiving us; it is we who get tired of asking for forgiveness” (Pope Francis I).

By the time you read this blog, millions of people will have already attended an Easter service on Sunday. Many parishioners will have purchased new clothes, and numerous churches will have spent money to make sure that their buildings and the worship experience are as attractive as possible. There will be plays, dramatizations, special guests, and special effects. In an overheard conversation, one pastor even called Easter Sunday, “Showtime”.

I thought long and hard about that statement. What exactly are churches offering on “Showtime” Easter Sunday? And why is that offering not compelling enough to encourage persons to come back before Easter of the next year? Is that an indication of their lack of religious conviction or an indictment of the relevance of the Church? Many churches are reporting that attendance is dropping and it is not beyond belief to wonder if eventually Easter will just become another Sunday.

I don’t think it has to be that way. Even in our age of smartphones, tablets, and virtual-almost-everything, I still believe that the community church is relevant and necessary. There are challenges that the Church must address. How does the Church really feel about marriage equality and why are so many Church marriages failing? What does the Church really think about issues like gun control, poverty, and equal rights? Has there ever really been a separation between Church and State and, if so, what are the boundaries? These are questions that need answers and not all of those answers are easy to obtain. And most of the people who found their way into Church doors on Easter cared more about the love they felt rather than the answers to those questions.

So maybe rather than Showtime, it is “time to show” the love of Jesus in a relevant way. It is “time to show” that church members are not perfect, just persistent. It is “time to show” that wearing the right attitude is more important than wearing the right clothes and that what you are driving is far less important than what is driving you. For the Church it is time to show that compassion, forgiveness, redemption, hope, and love are really the most impressive things that can ever be shown. So is it Showtime? Yes, every single Sunday; hopefully, the Church will make sure to show the right things!

by Andrea Noel

At a recent visit to my alma mater, I encountered a group of students who chose to participate in the annual Alternative Spring Break (ASB) Program. ASB is a weeklong service learning experience that students voluntarily substitute for entertaining vacations during spring break. ASB is spread nationally and internationally, involves graduates and undergraduates, and responds to the needs of marginalized populations.

Throughout the week, students live together and work in teams at various sites providing services to forgotten residents in local communities. Each day, they reflect on their encounters at these sites. During my visit with the Washington D.C. ASB team, I witnessed meaningful thoughts students shared about people they met at schools, homeless shelters, and hospices.

One particular student shared that there exists this overwhelming need for change in the world. In Washington D.C. there are too many homeless people, individuals dying of AIDS/HIV, children abused and neglected, schools closing and over-crowded, violent crimes increasing, and fixed unemployment rates. This student said it seems impossible for one week of service to make any difference in the lives of individuals who encounter so much scarcity, violence, or disregard. The student believed the work of the week seemed hopeless.

After hearing this, I recalled a prayer attributed to Archbishop Oscar Romero. This prayer was written by Bishop Ken Untener, of Saginaw, November 1979, in celebration of the lives of departed priests.

“…The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise
that is God’s work. Nothing we do is complete…the Kingdom always lies beyond
us.

No statement says all that could be said.

No prayer fully expresses our faith…

No pastoral visit brings wholeness.

No program accomplishes the Church’s mission…

This is what we are about.

We plant the seeds that one day will grow.

We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.

We lay foundations that will need further development…

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.

This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.

It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an

opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master

builder and the worker.

We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.

We are prophets of a future not our own.[1]”
Amen.

May this prayer shape our ways of being present to those we serve as pastoral counselors and spiritual caregivers. Although problems around us seem monumental, let us do whatever we can with love and care.

By Kate Gerwin

“Thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me. I‘d like to discuss the most efficient way for me complete the program…”

The words come back to me like it was yesterday. At the ripe old age of 25, the specter of 30 loomed large in the distance like an exacting track coach, ready to record my time; I was beginning to feel the pressure to “have something to show for myself,”…not that I would have admitted that to anyone—or God forbid to myself—at the time. Having attended Loyola as an undergrad Theology major, I had long been familiar with the Pastoral Counseling program and knew that something felt right about it to me; the marriage of spirituality and psychology excited me in a way I couldn’t yet name, but I somehow knew I needed to be a part of what it entailed. My desire was sincere and my heart was open, and yet I couldn’t shake the culturally prescribed feeling that I had to get it all done NOW… or better yet, yesterday. 

Without hesitating, Dr. Filakowski smiled knowingly and offered what might be the best advice I’ve received to date, “Try not to speed up the process too much.”

And that is exactly what my time in the Pastoral Counseling program has been; a process. Not necessarily a linear one, not always a “successful” one, but certainly a life changing one. It has been the process of learning to accept where I am and who I am— a person full of flaws and contradictions, gifts and graces. It has been a process of learning how to press into those parts of myself that scare me and cause me to recoil; and to freely gift those parts of me that I love, without expectation of return. It has been a process of learning to wait expectantly while immersing myself in the moment and a process that challenges me to constantly reexamine what I knew to be true. It is a process that has helped me to become more compassionate, more open minded and even, more patient. Though I hope to graduate in May of 2015 (after 30, I might add), I hope it is a process that never ends.