St. Thomas More Catholic Church
and Campus Ministry

By: Anna Kelley '23

We always hear about how people lose their faith in college. College is the time when
you go to find yourself, and for many, that involves no longer going to Mass. However, this is not
my story.
Let’s just say I got a little too into the not-so-beneficial aspects of college life. I had
always been Catholic and my parents were incredibly faithful in bringing us to Mass on Sundays
but I never really connected to it. Once I got to college, I kept coming to mass on Sundays but it
was out of habit and a desire to make myself feel better about how I was living. I was leading a
double life, no doubt. I do not think I ever really assented to the teachings of the faith. I was
missing something and I could not find it in the place the culture was telling me to look.
As I remember it, one Monday evening after a weekend of poor choices, I was sitting in
my dorm room and I had this desire to go to mass. It was not anything dramatic; I cannot even
remember what my thinking was. I saw that St. Thomas More had an 8pm Mass and I got ready
and went. All of the lights were off in the little chapel; it was completely candlelit and slightly
cloudy because of the incense. Confused, I took my seat toward the back. I thought to myself,
what are all these college kids doing at mass on a random Monday? What am I doing here?
However, as I sat there, awe slowly filled my heart; I knew I had entered a holy place. Father’s
homily was about a metaphorical path. I remember it going something like this: Life is like
walking down a path. Sometimes we take so many wrong turns that we are so far away from
Jesus that life seems hopeless. We will never be able to find our way home. However, all we
have to do—and all we can do—is turn around and take steps back towards Him. He loves each
one of us and He wants us to come back to Him. In my case, I had never truly met Him but at
that moment, I knew I wanted to. As the incense smoke got thicker, the fog over my eyes began
to lift. I knew that there was more to life than what I had been doing. Tears streamed down my
face as I listened to Father speak about how no matter what we have done, we are invited back
to the Lord. I felt the gut wrenching reality that the path I was on was only going to lead to
misery.
I left that night and I was not changed instantly; in fact, my reversion continues to
deepen every day. Many small moments after that lead me to even admit I was not truly
practicing the faith and living for Christ. There was so much I did not know about the faith that
everyone else seemed to know. I was scared. However, everyone was so kind and patient as I
asked my questions. So many people walked with me, especially Father Williams. I prayed my
first Holy Hour; I started going to mass more than just once a week; I grew to love the
Sacrament of Confession. I still know so little but I am taking steps—admittedly, very slow and
wobbly ones—down that path that Father had talked about in his homily.
Long story short, I did not lose my faith in college; I found what I never had to begin with.
I hope I will continue to grow in faith until the day I die. I call what happened to me not a
reversion but a conversion and we each have a conversion story, regardless of whether or not
you were raised Catholic. As a good friend recently told me, my heart was radically transformed
when I met the Lord. We must always remember that everyone is in need of conversion. My
story is not unique. My story is the story of STM.

By: Megan Willison '23

“You have been reading the Bible in black and white, but now you will read it in color.” When I reflect on our pilgrimage to the Holy Land, I keep coming back to this quote from our tour guide. From reading the Bible to going to Mass, nothing is the same after seeing where Jesus grew up, performed his ministry, died, and rose for our sins. I had heard these stories my entire life and believed them, but something about seeing these sites in person makes them so much more real. It’s like getting to know a new friend. You get to know them, you hear all their stories about their childhood, where they grew up and where they came from, but it’s not until you go to their hometown that you really understand these stories and what makes them who they are. That’s what going to the Holy Land was like. It revealed so much more to me about who Jesus is. 

    One of my favorite places we went was the Church of the Primacy of St. Peter in Capernaum. This is the spot where after His resurrection Jesus saw his disciples out fishing and told them to cast their net to the other side. After miraculously catching an overwhelming number of fish, Jesus prepared breakfast for them on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. This is also when he made Peter the head of the Church. As I looked around at my friends sitting with me at the same shore Jesus sat on and shared a campfire with His friends, I couldn’t help but to be overcome with joy. I smiled as I thought of how much I loved to swim and have campfires just like He did in that very spot! It made my love for being outside, water, and camping so much better to know that I shared that in common with Him. For the next half hour, I splashed around in the Sea of Galilee and skipped rocks with friends, feeling close to Jesus knowing that He might have done that same thing. 

Throughout the trip we talked about how Jesus would go up on the mountain to be alone or have private conversations with the apostles and come down the mountain to the Sea to preach to the people. Knowing the Gospel stories, He went up and down those mountains often. One morning while we were staying in Magdala, a group of us decided to try our hand on going up one of these mountains to watch the sunrise over the Sea of Galilee. This was not an official part of the tour and the mountain we climbed was just across the road from our hotel. It ended up being about 1000ft incline in about 1 mile or so. We decided to start our ascent at 4:30am to give us extra time considering there was no trail and we didn’t know what was on this mountain. After scrambling up the side of the mountain, getting stuck in pricker bushes, running into a few cows, and hearing a pack of dogs in the distance we made it to the top safely. We got there in time to watch the sunrise over the Sea and to pray morning prayer while taking in the beautiful scene. Again, I couldn’t help but smile that Jesus likely had seen many sunrises just like this from the top of a mountain, maybe even this one! I also had a newfound appreciation for the adventurous spirit He must have had. Likely he did many climbs like this without a trail. I thought it was a lot of fun despite the challenge. I couldn’t help again but feel close that we too might have a love for hiking in common. 

On the seventh day of our trip, we went to the Garden of Gethsemane. From the garden you can look out and see the entire Old City of Jerusalem. Our tour guide pointed out to us where the upper room was where they would have had the last supper before coming down to the garden. Very close to the upper room was Caiaphas’ palace where Jesus would have walked back up to in chains after being arrested. He then pointed out Pontius Pilates’ house, Herod’s house, and finally the spot where Jesus was crucified. Later that night we came back to the Garden of Gethsemane for adoration. Inside the church there is exposed rock, the rock Jesus had his agony on. Just outside the church is the garden where some of the trees date back to the time of Jesus. These trees very well could have witnessed Jesus’ agony and arrest. During adoration I went outside and walked around the garden. I imagined what it was like that night. Jesus could see all the places that He was about to go. He knew all the things He was about to endure. I then thought of the apostles with him that night. They had no idea what was about to happen, so what did they do? Fell asleep. Being there in that quiet, peaceful garden I wept because I knew I likely would have done the same thing. As I walked around the garden to the stone where Jesus had his agony, a beautiful thing happened. I felt Jesus’ love so deeply in a new way that is hard to describe. He knew what was about to happen, He knew His friends would fall asleep, He knew that we are sinful and not worthy of His sacrifice, yet He chose to die for you and me anyways. I have been told that my whole life, but the magnitude of His love struck me strongly at that spot. 

The next morning, we got up and walked the stations of the cross in the rain. The stations ended in the Church of the Holy Sepluchre. Inside is the spot of Jesus’ crucifixion. Under an alter there is a hole in the ground that you can stick your arm in and touch the spot that Jesus’ cross was. After the revelation I had the night before, I was filled with so much gratitude and overwhelmed by His love as I venerated this holy site. We then had the opportunity of a lifetime to say Mass inside the Holy Sepluchre, the tomb Jesus rose from the dead in. All 30 of us huddled together in this tomb and took turns venerating the spot Jesus’ body lay as Mass was being said. This was the most incredible thing I will ever do in my life. Words cannot describe the beauty, joy, and awe that I felt there. Even now I can’t express the gratitude I have for that experience, and how Jesus revealed Himself to me on this pilgrimage. We share a joy and love for adventure, community, and the outdoors. He also loves us so deeply that its overwhelming and in comprehensible. He desires us and shows mercy even when we haven’t earned it. Seeing where all these things and more happened I now have a better understanding and can visualize the Gospel stories when I hear them. I can read the Bible in color now, a gift I am forever grateful for and will carry with me the rest of my life.