From CA to MN, finding home in Christ

My shirt was completely drenched as I unloaded the last few boxes from the ten-foot U-haul trailer I drove halfway across the country from Palmdale, CA to Collegeville, MN. The thick, humid air filled my lungs as if I had dipped my head into a pot of warm bisque and inhaled. Humidity is typically low in the high desert of Southern California, even in the hottest of summer months. I quickly found this not to be the case upon my arrival—the first indication that I was no longer in my beloved desert homeland.

As I reflect on my time at St. John’s University, within this academic and monastic community, five weeks have quickly elapsed since my arrival. I am still feeling out of sorts. Living in Central Minnesota is very different from living in Southern California. And, while I’m trying to break myself of the annoying habit of comparing my native locale to the current, it is inevitable. It is a complete life adjustment, a replanting of roots that ran deep in the desert soil. For many of us who have come from other parts of the country and the world, studying at St. John’s is a bit of a culture shock. Experiencing culture shock in one’s own country seems puzzling, as if the phenomena is relegated only to visiting foreign countries—that is until one considers differences in food, weather, topography, ethnicity, religion and community.

Having the opportunity to live in a very different environment, a very different culture, is vital to our understanding of the world and people in our extended peripheries. We can catch glimpses into lives we will never be able to fully live. We can meet new people, establish profound connections and expose our hearts and minds to Christ outside of the familiar. That doesn’t make it any easier—admittedly, I’m still having a difficult time adjusting.

I think of our Vietnamese cohorts—sisters and priests—whom I have the privilege of sitting next to in my School of Theology classes. How drastically different this must be for them compared to their home country. I think of the many hundreds of Somalian refugees living in our local communities who were displaced, forced to leave their homes. I think of my fellow LGBTQ classmates and the feelings of isolation we experience for lack of a larger queer community. I think of other students from ethnically diverse backgrounds, leaving communities of familiarity behind for a community which may not speak their language or understand their culture. I think of the homegrown students who may have their ideologies challenged by “outsiders” in ways they could not have foreseen.

Pursuing higher education is not just about the academics. No. It’s much more than that. It’s about the connections we make with our professors, our fellow classmates and everyone else around us. Most importantly, it’s an opportunity to see Christ in people we never imagined could bear His image. Nowhere is this more fully realized than when we receive Christ in the Sacrament of the Eucharist. We, in our varied and unique backgrounds, become one in the Sacred Banquet. And in that shared meal, we are able to find the familiar in our hearts—home.