St. Jude, My Patron Saint
By Drey Carr

One Sunday, when I was 16 years old, and looking for a way to escape from my immediate family for a few hours, I decided to go to church with my grandparents, who lived nearby, and who I knew believed in the same God as I did. As old as I was, I did not know there was a difference between their tradition, and the Protestant church I was raised in. I learned more that weekend about differences in practice, and in faith, than I ever thought I would. I will always be grateful to God for working the miracle of my conversion through my small act of teenage rebellion.

The unassuming interior and exterior of the church, which was located beside a strip mall, did not faze me. I was used to attending church services in high school gyms, rented basements, and humble community centers. I would learn later that the church, a mission of the Diocese of Arlington, Virginia, was operating out of a converted motorsports warehouse. The cavernous walls were undecorated and hospital white, and besides the large crucifix, I felt right at home.
As I followed my grandparents towards a seat, I suffered my first shock: they kneeled! Not only did they kneel before entering the pew, they kneeled in prayer before the service had even begun! I realized then that I was dealing with something beyond my experience. Instead of nervously waiting for the church band to strike up its music, or for the preacher to start sermonizing, I was watching my grandparents use the church as a sanctuary for prayer, independent of the service. I was receiving some of my first adult lessons in the worship of God.

As the Mass began, I was touched by the common prayers. Instead of being led to expect an intense emotional experience, I was simply and joyfully praying with my new church fellows. We were linking ourselves to the saints of the past, to Jesus, and to each other through a common vocabulary, and through the common motions of standing, kneeling, and sitting. I was also introduced to hymns, which seemed so different from my experience of typical Christian Rock; the simplicity of the singing, and the lack of raised “praise” arms was fresh air to my teenage boyhood. With each passing moment I felt more and more at home. This was what it meant to worship God.

When the Mass was over, I looked more intently at the parish sign. I wanted to come back. It read “St. Jude Catholic Church.” From that week on I attended Mass whenever possible. In those weeks, I began to feel the traditional hunger of the catechumen for the Eucharist. I could not wait to stand in that line and receive Jesus, and I had never felt so perfectly comfortable in a church – so despite the warehouse environment, despite the spartan parish choir, and the nonexistent organ, and despite the fact that this was the church of my grandparents, I began my formal conversion process.

Eventually during the RCIA program (these days called OCIA), you begin to think about who your Patron Saint will be. I did not take long to decide. I had heard that St. Jude was the patron of “lost causes and desperate situations.” If a 16 year old is not a desperate situation, I do not not know what is. I did choose St. Jude to be my patron – 10 years on, I have no regrets. I believe St. Jude took me under his wing because of the prayer of my grandparents, and because through his intercession all things are possible. I have turned to him year after year, and have always found comfort in invoking his name, and answer to my prayer when I turn to his novena. I heartily encourage the readers of The Saint Jude Messenger to trust in St. Jude!