“Revival: A Lenten Devotional for Eucharistic Renewal,” is a series of simple, daily reflections that will help Catholics rekindle a living relationship with Jesus by reflecting on their relationship with the Lord, the Eucharist, and our missionary call to share the love of God with our neighbors.
Have you ever heard the word “aggiornamento”? This Italian word-slash-phrase was used by Pope St. John XXIII in reference to the Second Vatican Council. It means “bringing up to date,” or, to use an image commonly attributed to him, opening the windows wide and letting in the fresh air.
In other words, “aggiornamento” is an invitation to renewal, refreshment, and growth. In everyday experience, these invitations come as “nudges” of the Holy Spirit. We often feel invitations powerfully while attending the Mass or after Communion. Even a well-timed opportunity that we take part in or an invitation to an event can unexpectedly begin a journey of growth and renewal.
I’m a Catholic twentysomething. After college, I spent several years moving around the Midwest, and my faith became isolated from a community. So I was surprised that my most recent “aggiornamento” began with an unexpected announcement I heard at the end of one early Sunday Mass at the Church of the Blessed Sacrament in West Lafayette, Indiana.
All the adults of the parish were invited to join a four-week bread-making class. Especially young adults, the announcement underlined.
I signed up from my phone in the parking lot. I wasn’t even an official parishioner at the time, but something about this opportunity inspired me to dive in. As someone who had grown accustomed to watching a parish without being a member, I saw this as a great challenge: to connect with the parish and try something new and different!
Of all the gifts God has given me, I have never considered baking to be one of them. I am a professional at making burnt cookies and underdone brownies, but I have always wanted to try my hand at baking bread. Something about being able to create a food that has been a staple of Christian and prehistoric communities made this opportunity feel special. Community, bread, and the Eucharistic connotations of making and breaking bread with others: what could be better?
So on four November Saturday mornings, I scrambled out of bed and picked up my rolling pin and baking pan to make it to “Bake and Be Blessed” on time. A hallway connected the community room (where class took place) to the main church, which gave me constant opportunities to pop in—half-awake and running late—to say hello to the Prince of Peace. I knew if I sat down, I would be even later… not to mention how loud baking equipment can be in a silent church. So most mornings I just stood in the doorway, my clunky tools in hand, and for a moment I was with the Lord in silence before genuflecting and heading to the classroom.
My words to Jesus were simple: “Lord, thank you for this morning. Help me make good friends and great bread today!”
Sandwiched in between scrambling out of bed early on a Saturday and a fun morning learning how to bake bread, those few moments of conversation with Jesus in silent prayer invited me to joy, despite how desperately I wished I could have slept in.
Those precious moments at the back of the Church opened me up to a deeper and more exciting invitation than breadmaking: I accepted a breath of fresh air from the Lord and took a step into a rich parish life.
I learned that I actually can bake bread. In the face of my overcooked and underdone baking predecessors, my bread came out beautifully and was more delicious than I had thought possible. What turned out to be even more meaningful to me was the confidence I gained in meeting a slew of baking-minded parishioners, from new college-aged students attending their first event to retired and devoted parish staff.
As a young adult, I was excited to get to know other young women who were in a similar stage of life as me: a doctoral student, two students pursuing a master’s degree, a new mom and a few other transplants to the area, all twentysomethings. With four weeks together, we naturally began to seek each other out, laughing over the absolute mess that pesto swirls can make and reveling in the success of a simple sourdough bread. We were grateful for these little opportunities to gather together and chat about what was going on in our lives as we inspected each other’s dough while we worked.
What started in the classroom grew into a group chat, and shortly after, I threw a dinner party for these friends at my house. I am certain that I would not have had the boldness or the courage not only to ask to stay in touch with my “Bake and Be Blessed” friends but also to host them for a party, if not for those short morning check-ins with the Lord in the back of church that sandwiched my classes. I had asked him for openness to accept the invitations to be social, to be connected, to embrace being seen by others and to be a welcoming presence to them, too. And he had heard my prayer.
In my first few moves, I persistently worried that I wouldn’t find someone or a parish group that I’d fit in with, that I would perpetually live as an involved outsider. But God presented a different experience through “Bake and Be Blessed.” The class served as a reminder that I can find his Church anywhere and everywhere, so long as I am open to his promptings and the invitations offered through the community. The class paid for itself quickly: after the first class filled with laughter and conversation, I felt, in just two hours, more alive and more involved than I had since graduating college.
Through a single Mass announcement, I had been invited into community, both as a participant receiving a welcome and as a host to welcome other parishioners into my own home. It was a breath of fresh air for me—in the words of Vatican II, an “aggiornamento.” This unique invitation tied my spiritual life to my baking skills and to a community. It removed the cobwebs of worry from my mind and filled me with a spirit of joy and renewal. I had found a community to be a part of, one that embraced me as I embraced it.
Invitations change lives, spiritually and literally. I have cherished my time at Blessed Sacrament Parish because of their efforts to invite me, and other young adults who may be falling through the cracks, to join the community. Invitations to events, to fellowship, and to worship are like open arms to new parishioners and those who feel invisible. These invitations don’t have to be to a Bible study or a bread-making class—they could be to a movie, to a local concert, or simply to Eucharistic adoration.
Just as welcoming one another into renewal and community is as simple as eye contact, invitations are as simple as a few words, delivered personally or even through an announcement at the end of Mass: “Will you join us?”
Colleen Schena is an Indiana-based writer with a passion for the stories of disciples moved to action by the Eucharist. She has a degree in theology and spends her days working with college students and young adults to foster Eucharistic community in West Lafayette, Indiana.
