I was 22 years old, lying in bed one night while on a pilgrimage, when I suddenly sensed an idea in my mind: "Go to the seminary." There was no voice, no vision, but a gentle and unmistakable clarity. I simply prayed, "Lord, if that's from you, let me find great joy in it." Three days later, my heart was bursting with joy. I dropped everything and entered the seminary.

It's common to hear belief in Jesus and the Church mocked as blind faith and credulity. But in reality, it is deeply human and rational. Think about it: we rely on the testimony of others constantly. I trust chemists who certify the safety of toothpaste and cleaning products. I trust engineers when I use a microwave or drive over a bridge. Why? Because they have studied and seen what I have not, and their testimony proves itself in daily life. That kind of trust is not irrational; it is how human knowledge works.

Apple ran a commercial not long ago called "Behind the Mac - Greatness." It shows artists and creators, such as Kendrick Lamar, Billie Eilish, and Lady Gaga, working behind their MacBooks. The narration says, "There's a certain kind of person who doesn't wait for greatness. They make it." It's a compelling message. There's beauty in using our gifts with passion and purpose. But there lies a hidden weight in that idea: If you are what you make, what happens when you can't anymore? When the project fails, the passion fades, or the spotlight moves on, where is greatness then?

When I was 22, I went on a pilgrimage to Rome for the Jubilee Year of 2000. I was traveling light with just a backpack, one blue shirt and black pants, little money, and no Italian. I had a few close friends and one goal: to reach the Eternal City. Despite the challenges and deprivations, I felt alive in a way I had never known before.