A Faith Transformed by St. Vincent de Paul
My first explicit encounter with St. Vincent de Paul was in the former youth ministry office of my home parish. We called that office The Link because it was down the road from the parish campus, and even though it was a parish property beyond the boundaries of the parish campus, it was still “linked” to it.
The Link was divided into five lounge spaces. My parish’s confirmation classes and young adult small groups were held in these lounges, and each was named after a saint. I do not remember which lounge space was dedicated to St. Vincent de Paul, but I know that one of the them was (my instinct is to say it was the one with the green couch and yellow wall paint, which was, admittedly, my least favorite of the lounge spaces). And even though I knew the name of St. Vincent de Paul, I did not, until my freshmen orientation, know anything about St. Vincent de Paul and his legacy.
But let me redeem myself: My first implicit and indirect encounter with St. Vincent de Paul and his legacy also happened at The Link. My parish’s youth ministry program offered four different post-confirmation young adult small groups every semester. One was always movie and discussion-based (we would watch a popular or newly released film and then discuss how faith, religion, and morality are presented and considered in the film). Another was community-based: that is, the small group would be an opportunity to play games and bond with other youth in the parish (in the Spring, we would hold this small group on the parish campus to play Romans and Christians, a hilarious and irreverently titled combination of capture the flag and hide-and-seek). Another was always a Bible Study of a different chapter of the Bible (my youth minister called it “Time for Some BS,” which, along with “Romans and Christians” says a lot about his sense of humor). And the fourth, often at the end of the week, explored different social issues through the lens of Catholic Social Teaching. I learned about the concept of social justice — that it is about seeking to rectify and reform the root causes of social ills — and the ways that the various themes of Catholic Social Teaching inform that effort, giving it a moral framework and a template for acting to increase the measure of justice in the world.
As such, I remember walking through campus on the freshmen orientation Traditions Tour, being told about the “What Must Be Done?” question, and registering that it connects to what I had been introduced to in my youth ministry program.
Even so, my time at DePaul has still been marked by a monumental education in my faith tradition, and thus a greater devotion to it; and that is because of how St. Vincent de Paul, St. Louise de Marillac, their legacy, and their Tradition has gradually formed me through the education in Catholic Studies that I received at DePaul University and, even more so — most of all — through the friendships I found in DePaul’s Catholic Campus Ministry office.
I would characterize my religious expression at the start of my time at DePaul as anxious and scrupulous, and therefore slightly self-punishing — and not unlike St. Louise de Marillac. I would dedicate two periods of time during my day to prayer, and while that is all well and good in principle — and I still strive to do so today — what underpinned that practice was a spiritual immaturity and false perception that I must fulfill that many periods of time for prayer, as well go to Confession an X amount of times per year, and certainly constantly beg forgiveness for my imperfections, which cause me to fail and displease God. Displease is the key word. For so long, I thought that if I was not accounting for and embracing any and every opportunity that God might be sending me to draw closer to Him, I was failing and displeasing Him. And while it is certainly true that, according to Catholic Tradition, God is always and at all times offering opportunities for us to encounter him (this is why St. Paul encourages us to “pray without ceasing” in 1 Thessalonians 5:17), it is not true that God is displeased and angry with us when we fail. Rather, He is simply eager to be with us, and offers up endless invitations for us to confess our sins, be with Him, and share that same unconditional love with those around us. God desires for us to rest in Him and know He loves us.
Even though I knew this truth about my faith, I could not internalize it, for whatever reason. Even though I had read passages of scripture that declared that “The Lord is gracious and merciful; Slow to anger and great in lovingkindness. The Lord is good to all, And His mercies are over all His work,” I still practiced my faith with this concern that I was displeasing and angering God (Psalm 145: 8–10).
This way of thinking, this way of being Catholic, has, for me, changed in large part during my time at DePaul because of my education as a Catholic Studies major and my friendships, which, like St. Louise de Marillac’s spiritual direction from St. Vincent de Paul, have drawn me out of myself and into a greater love for what it means to be human and to strive toward something far greater and far more good than what we are and are experiencing today.
Having studied specific, well-sourced history, literature, and theology of Catholicism at DePaul, I have come to realize how human the Church is, and how gradually it has developed over two thousand years. Its practices have been informed by economics, politics, art, and the “signs of the times,” to incorporate language from the Second Vatican Council. It’s grave sins, past and present, have been caused by pride, vanity, power-lust, and selfishness; and its reforms have been rooted in adoration of Christ and what He envisions for the Church, for the material and spiritual good of others — and especially those whom society marginalizes, either explicitly or implicitly — and for the world to ideally be.
But most of all, having friends like those I made in Catholic Campus Ministry have drawn me out of myself and taught me what it means to be Vincentian and to be Catholic. They have taught me what it means to act on my faith, to selflessly act for others, to give of myself for others. To have received a greater intellectual understanding of my faith is one thing, but to have received a truly lived-out example of it is very much another. I have been able to share my passion for the history of my faith with them, and I have seen how Christ inspires them to attentively listen to those around them, to reflect on how they and our office can better open up to those around us, and to believe that, at all times, we form one another by the grace of Holy Spirit.
As I transition out of my undergraduate career at DePaul University, I long for my career and my life to be in-keeping with the Vincentian Tradition, to be a consistent effort at being drawn out of myself and into relationship with those around me, forming and being formed by them, teaching and learning from them; I wish for that humility and openness which St. Vincent de Paul and St. Louise de Marillac cultivated after the example of Jesus Christ himself; I wish to be loving, which is “inventive unto infinity.”
