When I left the Seminary, My Soul was Saved by Art!

Well, in a manner of speaking. God alone saves, but in my case, He decided to use art for that purpose. Leaving that community of prayer and mutual spiritual support left my soul feeling lost and starved, my heart with feelings of bitterness and despair. I did not immediately realize after I left that I needed to have a healthy outlet for these feelings or they would destroy me. And for several months they did indeed tear me down.

I’d always been a bit of an art nerd. I took lots of art history classes in college, without much idea of how to use them other than to soak up my elective credits, despite the continued objections of my academic advisor who thought I was crazy and needed something more practical. I took all my class notes as a series of random doodles, partly from love of doodling, and partly because I have ADD so bad I couldn’t actually take proper notes. The pictures formed for me a kind of pictorial mnemonic device for remembering what I’d learned that particular day.

By the end of my 4 years in college there were guys who would come to me at the end of the semester just to see my notebooks. I really didn’t understand why they were fascinated. The staff there thought it was inexcusable, that I was treating my academics like a joke by spending all my time doodling, so naturally I felt that way too. For me, those scratches represented what I perceived as my own personal weakness and laziness, my inability to be a “good seminarian.”

I eventually would go on to show those scribbles to family and friends outside of seminary, and almost overwhelmingly I would be asked, “Is there any more? Will you please make more?” I had no inkling that this art thing was anything important, but my spiritual director had just reminded me that when you have a gift from God, the Holy Spirit will draw people to it, and they will come to you and ask for it. So I went back to drawing.

I didn’t think I was very good. Actually, I was objectively bad! But I drew because I needed it, as a way to heal. And because other people needed it, and I needed to feel that people needed me, too. In prayer, God made it clear that I needed to do this for Him, because He had people who needed what I could make.

So I learned how to draw in new ways, using new tools. I learned how to use paint. I learned how to engrave. Some people meditate over Scripture by reading it over and over again, but I would imagine it over and over again, and then draw it. Other times, when my imagination would run wild in the Adoration chapel and I couldn’t get an image out of my head, I’d draw it, and then listen to see what He thought.

There were also times that I would draw with the intention of making something for selling, without listening to God or presenting my work to Him – worshiping mammon with the work of my hands, as it were. In these cases I almost always failed. It was humbling to see how my work is empowered by Him, how even when I will not obey His commands, the work of my hands is still the work of His hands.

Through all of this, I was constantly reminded that drawing was something that was for my healing. Not because it stroked my ego (though it sometimes did) but because God made my hands and I was using them to do something for Him, even though I didn’t understand exactly how. I don’t always pray before I pick up my pencil or brush, but in those early days I learned a sense of working with God on this hobby of mine. Or more precisely, this hobby of ours.

I discovered that I didn’t have to change the whole world to be holy or happy outside of a religious community. My vocation to personal holiness and communion with God can sometimes just be about making scribbles and giving them to Him.

 

By Anthony
Anthony is a thoroughly lovable former seminarian, artist, and Catholic blogger. He is not only the author of this week’s post, but also the creator of its featured image. If you’ve never seen his artwork, check out his blog at http://weaselsgonarf.blogspot.com/.

And please PRAY FOR ANTHONY, because he’ll be marrying the lovely Katie on the Solemnity of the Assumption (this coming August 15th)!

 

Leonie’s Ladies: What have you found works as an “outlet” for you since returning to the world? Has something in particular helped you to heal, to process feelings, to readjust? Please share in the commboxes below so others can get ideas that may help them!

“By Waiting & By Calm”

The Holy Spirit moves in mysterious ways. Whenever we are faced with a move, a change, it brings conflicting feelings.

This Pentecost I am in the middle of preparing for a move from my first assignment as a priest to a new assignment later this month. One of my brother priests called it “from one extreme to another” – from two slow-paced, rural parishes to a big suburban parish with a school in a major college town. I have lived here four years, five if you count the times I visited on the weekend as a transitional deacon. The people and the place have left a mark on my heart. Everywhere I look I find more things that belong to me and that I will need to pack and move. I also find things I’ve bought for the rectory with Church money and wonder if I’ll have these same amenities at the new place.

Moving is difficult, not just for me but for the staff and the parish. Each person has to deal with it in their own way. I am filled with conflicting emotions: excitement for the new and unknown and sadness for the places where I experienced God’s love. A part of me is happy to leave behind certain people and memories. In the mess of the move, the preparation, the packing, the schedule hassles, the new pastor moving in early, the waiting for the date of the move, it is easy to feel lost and forgotten. Sometimes it feels like the whole world is advancing while I stand still. Temptations multiply to fill oneself with snacks, TV, iced cappuccinos… and indeed some of those things do seem to take the edge off temporarily. It is hard to pray, to sit and be still in the heart even during prayer. Moving brings up emotions and memories from the past, insecurities and fears.

There is something else too, though, or rather someone. There is a presence, a deep peace, a person who is accompanying me, who gives thoughts such as “Be at peace, it will be all right,” “Be patient, it will work out,” “Keep praying your regular prayers,” “Stay quiet,” “Watch me work this out.” This is the Third Person of the Holy Trinity, the one we call the Holy Spirit. He is God just like the Father and the Son. He is a person just like the Father and the Son. And His presence is palpable in all those who have been baptized and believe.

The Holy Spirit is all-pervading, the Advocate, the Consoler, the one whom I can trust when all else seems to fail. The Holy Spirit has been there for me in the past and I am even more aware of Him now. The Holy Spirit wants me to be strong and calm:

By waiting and by calm you shall be saved. In quiet and in trust your strength lies.

Isaiah 30:15

The Holy Spirit wants me to be holy, to not freak out, not send a quick reply over email, not make a hasty comment, not indulge. The Holy Spirit wants me to enjoy this experience even amid the pain. The Holy Spirit wants me to have a holy transition and His way is indeed the better, wiser way.

Why be up in arms? Why fear, be anxious? Nothing has importance except my relationship with the Son and the Father in the Holy Spirit. Everything else is fluff. May God bless all our moves and transitions!

 

By Fr. Tom Wasilewski

Fr. Tom was born in Poland, raised in East Lansing, Michigan, and graduated from Central Michigan University. Since his ordination in 2010 he has been a priest in the Diocese of Lansing. In his spare time he likes to mountain bike and work on basic wood projects.