Article by Phoenix Writer James Watkins ’26
I reluctantly went to Saint Aidan’s, my home parish, for the five o’clock mass and sat in the pew, distracted, as my leg shook from the thought of everything I had to accomplish afterward.
It came to me like wind. It was neither the Gospel nor the words of the priest’s homily. Rather, the deep calling to find God that came over me stemmed from something much different. The flora was abundant on the altar, with each plant catching my eye illuminating radiant colors. There, nature was at its pinnacle, for it coexisted perfectly with the congregation; the Lord’s beautiful design was shown off to all who looked upon it.
It was able to fully shine right where it was, as it was, without any thoughts of why. I, on the other hand, was buzzing with questions of–why?
Somehow, nature’s abundance made me wonder about life itself: my fears, failures, joys, and hopes for the future. It made me realize how I walk into adversity with confidence and with timidity simultaneously, a paradox of worry, disappointment, and achievement. And so, I did what I usually do: overthink. In the course of four minutes, my brain computed millions of different ways I could make my life different.
Church of St. Aidan, Williston Park
But once all of the thoughts were quieted, there was nothing but silence. Suddenly, I remembered how Saint Thomas Aquinas defined God as this: “Deus est ipsum esse per se subsistens.” This states that God Himself is the act of existing. What did this mean for me? It gave me hope that my existence itself came from good and has the potential to grow into greater good. I began to learn how to feel at home within myself.
Existence itself cannot be enough; something must be done with it. James 2:26 states, “For just as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is also dead.” Being alive calls each human person to act, for they have been given the gift and responsibility to do so. The “right place” for me to be in could only become reality if I acted for the betterment of the world. Then, anywhere can be home.
I began to pull my feet out of the mud. I had to, I just had to. Being a child of Christ means to act. What felt like a millennium of brainstorming ended by the glorious ringing of bells; the mass had begun. I, fully myself since a long time ago, was ready to see God for who He truly is. As the old expression goes, sometimes you need to stop and smell the flowers, even when the flowers are on the altar at mass.
