This story has three parts.
A story about a boy I met in elementary school
A story about a man on the verge of fulfilling a spiritual path
A short segment about how they are together.
Part 1
There are some people we only know for a small season, but for reasons we may never fully understand, they stay with us. They become lodged somewhere in memory, not because we knew them forever, but because they left an impression that outlasted the actual relationship.
For me, one of those people was a boy named Chris. I met him in elementary school, and even then, through my young eyes, he seemed ahead of the curve. He had a kind of natural cool that could not be manufactured. It was not the kind of cool that comes from trying to be noticed.
It was the kind that comes from not caring whether anyone notices at all…
Chris had Airwalks before anyone had Airwalks. He had Vans before anyone had Vans. He wore a Smashing Pumpkins T-shirt before I even knew Smashing Pumpkins was a band.
In fact, I thought the shirt was about someone who really hated Halloween.
When I asked him about the shirt, he told me, and in his own quiet way, opened a door for me into alternative rock music.
He introduced me to Billy Corgan, to Siamese Dream, to a whole sound and style I had not yet encountered. I remember going to his house and seeing what I think was a Jackson guitar. I think he had a killer Jackson guitar!
I remember thinking he had this wild intellect, like he carried 100-year-old wisdom inside a third-grade brain.
And then, life moved on. Different grades. Different circles. Different paths. Chris and I drifted into separate lives, and I had not spoken to him in person since childhood.
Still, every time I walked into a record store and saw Siamese Dream on vinyl, or heard “Tonight, Tonight” playing somewhere, I thought of him.
Part 2
In September of 2011, a young man walked into a Byzantine Catholic church in downtown Cleveland. He was looking for a quiet place to meditate. He had been searching for some time, trying to understand his purpose and his destiny. Although he had been baptized Catholic, he was not practicing the faith at the time. He had been following an East Indian form of mindfulness, trying to find peace through meditation. On that particular day, the church happened to be open, and a young priest happened to be inside cleaning before its reopening.
The young man sat there in silence for about 30 minutes. As he meditated, his eyes became fixed on an image of Mary. When he got up to leave, the priest’s mother stopped him and told him it was September 8, the Nativity of Mary. She explained that Mary gathers lost souls and brings them back to her son. Then she looked at him and said, “I think you’re supposed to be here.”
Two weeks later, his mother brought him to a Thomas Merton seminar. Merton, a Trappist monk and writer, would become another signpost on the young man’s journey. The seminar eventually led him to visit the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky.
When he arrived there, something in him stirred. He felt immediately drawn to monastic life. The only problem was that he was not yet practicing the Catholic faith, and he knew the Trappists would not let him enter under those conditions. So, on the six-hour drive back to Cleveland, he began imagining another possibility. Maybe they would let him live near the monastery as a janitor. Maybe he could have some kind of quasi-monastic life from the edges.
In 2012, still searching, the young man found himself staying at an ashram in India. One day, a stranger pointed at him and said, “I don’t think this guy should be here.” The words shook him. That night, alone and anxious, he prayed what he later described as the first real prayer of his life: “Please get me through this trip. Please get me through this night.”
He did make it home. But his searching continued, and his meditation practice still felt frustrating. One day, he went on a hike. As he walked, he remembered the monks at Gethsemani chanting the Our Father.
In that memory, a peace came over him. That night, he woke up and prayed the Our Father for three hours. The next day, he returned to the Byzantine church where the whole journey had begun. That return led him into Palm Sunday, Holy Week, and a Good Friday vigil. By Easter, he understood the call…
He was not meant to live near a monastery as a janitor. He was meant to become a Catholic monk.
By 2016, he had entered Gethsemani as a postulant (someone who formally asks to become part of a religious community). In 2021, ten years after walking into that Byzantine church in Cleveland, he made solemn vows.
That young man became Brother Joseph.
Part 3
So how are these two stories connected?
Brother Joseph used to go by another name. When I knew him in elementary school, his name was Chris.
The boy I remembered as effortlessly cool, the kid who introduced me to Smashing Pumpkins, the friend whose memory came back to me every time I heard certain songs, had become a monk at the Abbey of Gethsemani. And the funny thing is, when you come from a town like Medina, Ohio, even when you are no longer connected, you somehow remain connected.
My wife, Cori, is friends with Brother Joseph’s sister, Alliey. A few months ago, Alliey reconnected Brother Joseph and me. Since then, we have been emailing.
A true gift.
The thing I can’t get out of my head is the different ways a life can be seen.
There’s the person others remember us to be, filtered through their own prism and a small slice of shared experience.
Then, there’s the person we actually are.
And finally, there’s the person we are destined to be.
It’s almost like we live three truths in one life.
*This episodes includes an adaptation and retelling of Brother Joseph's true story. You can read his original written story HERE.
*Learn more about the Abbey of Gethsemani at monks.org
Listen to the audio version of this story!
Follow 7 Minute Stories and listen on your favorite podcast app!
