Brothers and sisters, peace be with you. I have a confession to make: I haven’t been telling you the whole truth. Allow me to set the stage. Lancaster, PA, August 17th, 2016. One decade ago yesterday, I said goodbye to my wife of 8 years. The year prior was my 30th birthday, and she threw a surprise party for me. Life was trending upwards. I had successfully funded my little comedy show about a priest and we would be shooting the second season soon. But in the middle of shooting that first episode, I broke and could go no further. I was overwhelmed with a desire to end my life. By God’s grace alone, I didn’t go through with it; but I fell into a deep depression where I couldn’t find satisfaction in anything anymore. The following year, on my 31st birthday, I came home late, drunk, and told my disappointed wife, “We should just get an annulment.” Convinced I was the reason for all of the misery in her life, I decided to let her go. This decision haunted me right away. I had long thought it would be cool to get Maximilian Kolbe’s tattoo and now I was going to do it for the 75th anniversary of his martyrdom. (I’ve got a thing for numbers and anniversaries). It fell on a Sunday though, and not wanting to be the reason someone had to work on Sunday, I got it the following day, on the solemnity of the Assumption of Mary, something I knew Maximilian would appreciate. 2 days later, my wife was gone, and I found myself grateful that I installed this sacramental on my forearm. I found myself now praying for his intercession as patron of drug addicts, very worried about what might happen to me as I slid into a deep hole of depression while working in the bar scene. By God’s grace, I did not fall into addiction, but I was starved for affection. After losing the only woman I ever knew like that, I got hooked on affection with others. But it led me to a very good, life-giving relationship that lasted till 2018. I still hated myself though, and it ruined the relationship. I was also overwhelmed with Catholic guilt for dating someone without having my marriage being declared null, and I found myself hoping that it wouldn’t be. (I meant what I said in my vows! How could I hope that the Church would judge otherwise?) I continued to work in hospitality and entertainment while trying to walk the straight and narrow. I wanted this to be my martyrdom: the husband who would stay loyal to the wife he would never see again. But the letter from the tribunal arrived; I was not sacramentally married. Thankfully, my heart was prepared. I even made a joke video on Facebook where I opened it like I was unboxing an iPhone. It was time to start anew. I made new friends, I followed my heart, and I met Karolina. On our first date, she joined me in feeding the homeless before we went to the movies. We married in 2021. This time was different, and I knew it would be different. I would give this my all and it would not fail this time. Fast forward 5 years, and I’m lost. After a long winding journey, one where I finally came to terms with my abuse by two priests, I found myself back in the same spot. I was out of things to give and I was out of things to give up. We only made rent in October by rolling up Karolina’s coin collection that had been decades in the making. Now we were halfway through November, behind on rent and with no idea how we would make rent for December. (Where did I go wrong? Where did I fail??) I brought these questions alone in prayer. I had to; Karolina and I were not on the same ground spiritually. She was trying to live honestly and she couldn’t even go to Mass, angry at the Church for what happened to me and thoroughly disillusioned by the Christians in her life who weren’t even trying to love their neighbor as much as they love themselves. But now I was carrying the added shame of leading her away from the Church?? (This is why I shouldn’t have told anyone! Better a millstone were around my neck, right!?) Meanwhile, I was still trying to go to Mass even though my hands would often shake and sweat. I prayed the Liturgy of the Hours every day, but I was beginning to wonder if this was itself a trauma reenactment or compulsion. Where do I turn when all of the signs of the sacraments are loaded with feelings of danger and shame? Like Adam being offered the fruit of the tree, I saw sweet death put before me. It was mine to take. Nobody would be able to stop me this time. Nobody would know until it was too late. Karolina the widow would certainly get more sympathy than Karolina the wife. I was ready to jump again. But instead of making that leap, I chose a leap of faith. I was going to take God at his word, that if I seek first the Kingdom and righteousness, all these other things would be taken care of. We agreed to do the ultimate novena to our Blessed Mother, nine months, spanning from November 14th to August 14th, from the feast of Cabrini to Kolbe, leading up to the Assumption on August 15th. (That’s why I got an 815 area code. Like I said, I’ve got a thing for numbers.) The very next day, Karolina and I made a breakthrough in our marriage. The day after that, we went to Mass together again. Then He asked me to quit my second job. He wanted his Sundays back, and He revealed more one step at a time. He asked us to start a mission to the margins, and we hardly understood what that even meant. He asked me to quit my other job, leaving me with no income, and to beg for alms. Karolina would follow when she heard the call to quit her job too. We were to shun all transactional relationships while being pruned on the Vine. We were to follow the trail of charity by choosing weakness, vulnerability, and humiliation. Being impressive, or clever, or highly resourceful to curry favor would be cheating, and every time I flirted with that, He quickly brought me back to the way of humiliation. I reached out to everyone who cares about me in my Lancaster community, especially those I would hope would reach out to me if they needed help. It wouldn’t be very charitable of me to assume others are less generous than I, would it? I gave everyone the benefit of the doubt, feeling grateful for the conditioning of my heart through the heartbreak, returning every slight against us with a blessing on them. I was to let people believe what they want and live in their assumptions. The people who really cared about me reached out anyway. Most importantly, I was to never lie, but I had to keep the secret, to avoid muddying the waters of mercy. I even left my rap diss tracks raw and unpolished to remain unassuming. (I did try leaving some hints along the way though.) I didn’t want to leave Lancaster, but the only way I was ever going to be able to stay in the town where I was raised, abused, and abandoned was to have it offset with an outpouring of sympathy from my community, my parish, my diocese. But a prophet isn’t welcome in his hometown, right? So we let God lead us all the way to southwest Michigan, where neither of us had even set foot. He led us to a new community, a new diocese. My new ordinary, Bishop Edward Lohse, met with me one-on-one. Karolina and I continue to go to Mass together, and she now prays the Liturgy of the Hours with me every day. The miracles in our lives have been abundant, and the only thing we lack anymore is money. We have been homeless for 5 months. We have slept in our cars, with our cats in the back seat. We still don’t have a home, but now, we’re here. This training season is over. So. To my family, my community, my friends. To those who judged me, rejected me, ostracized me, or ignored me, I got one thing to say to you: thank you. Whether detractor or supporter, every one of you played a crucial role in molding our hearts for this mission. Did you think I was trying to save myself? That’s quite the assumption. Did you think I was trying to be impressive, that I was doing my best to… This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit ambrosebeforehoes.substack.com
