A transcript of the Taizé homily given by Michael Bell, on January 24, 2010:

This is my third time giving a Taizé homily at St. Thomas. The first time was back in early 2008, I think, and I talked about my own personal theology: What is God? What is faith? It was very exploratory, and it was a little esoteric. The second time was just over a year ago-December 2008-and that homily was more traditional. It was Advent, and the Gospel reading was about the annunciation: Gabriel's visit to Mary. I talked about that story and another biblical story, one of my favorites: the story of little Samuel hearing the voice of God for the very first time. My message that night was that the voice of God is ever-present in our world, God is always speaking, and not just to a select few, but to every one of us. I said that the truest act of faith is to listen for that voice, to look for that angel, everywhere and always. And then, most importantly, to respond, to take the next step, like Mary and Samuel did.

But tonight, I'm going to do something different, again. I want to tell you a story: it's a true story from my own life, and I brought something with me to help me tell it. This is a gift from a very dear friend of mine, Joseph, a monk and an iconographer. He made it after he heard the story I'm about to tell you.

Most people here probably don't know it, but a year ago, I had begun my own process of discerning whether my calling in life was to become a priest. In fact, I had pretty much convinced myself by that point in my life that this was the path for me, and I was doing everything I could to move down that path as quickly as possible. And then, in March of last year, something happened ... I lost my job. I was actually given a choice, and I chose to go. I took it as a sign: I knew that this was God's way of telling me that it was time to open this new chapter of my life. I was ready, so I did.

I decided that I needed to take a little vacation somewhere where I could be alone, contemplative, to decompress, to listen, to come back refreshed for this new chapter. So, I went online, I found a cheap ticket to Paris, and off I went. I spent five days alone in that city, in parks, in churches, being quiet and being convinced that I knew exactly what was going to happen in my life when I got back. And then ... the last weekend that I was there, something else happened, something that changed my life forever: I went out, I went to a bar, and I met Michel.

It really was like a Hollywood movie. I saw him across a crowded space, his beautiful brown eyes met mine, and I was instantly drawn to him. There were introductions, questions, choices, amazing moments together, awkward goodbyes ... and then ... a feeling deep inside that I had let something amazing and beautiful slip away from me. So I went back and found him again the next night ... and he was looking for me, too. We made plans to see each other again, and the next day we spent the most beautiful Sunday afternoon together ... my last one in Paris ... walking hand-in-hand through the streets of the city, laughing, talking to each other ... or, trying to talk to each other ... and all the while feeling a connection that I had rarely felt, if ever, in my life. We had to say goodbye again, but that night I felt light; I felt like I was floating.

I came home to America the next day, images and feelings welling up inside me, and thanks to the miracle of modern technology (that's Facebook), I connected with him and less than a week later, I had bought another ticket to go back to Paris to figure out what all this meant for me.

During the next few weeks, there were emails, there were "pokes" on Facebook, there were song dedications. It was like being in love in junior high school, and it was amazing. And, so I came back to Paris in May, I met him in the rain on a Thursday night in front of the fountain at Centre Pompidou, he sang songs to me, he made me laugh ... and then ... he made me cry.

It was another beautiful Sunday afternoon. We were walking through the city, and he led me to a church in the Marais, St. Gervais. (He knew that I was kind of "churchy.") We walked inside. It was cool, and the light was just right. We walked around to the apse, and there was a chapel to Mary. We stood at the entrance to this chapel, immersed in the power of that place ... flickering candles, wafting smoke from the incense ... it was so calm, so serene. And then after a few minutes, I looked over at him, and I saw that he was crying. I saw tears trickling down his face, and I thought, "My God. How beautiful. This man at my side is crying." Then, he realized I was looking at him and he seemed a little embarrassed. I reassured him, and we ambled out of the church.

Outside on the street, he took my hand and we walked along, Then, he stopped me, he took both of my hands, I looked into those deep brown eyes, and he said the most beautiful words that I had ever heard: "I have something very intimate to tell you. Earlier, I said I don't know if there is a paradise. But I believe in Mary. I talk to her. I always talk to her. And today, I cried in the church because I asked her to approve our love." And then I cried, tears streaming down my face in a way I could not control. I didn't have words for him, but my eyes told him everything he needed to know. That night, I wrote in my journal, "Will I cry with him everyday? I hope so." I had fallen in love.

And so, I went back to Paris again in July. Michel had told me that he wanted us to go back to the church, and on another beautiful Sunday evening, he led me back. The light was just right: the sun casting a shadow of the cross of the high altar on the floor at our feet. The candles, the incense-it was just like our visit in May. But this time, there in the church, his hand was in my hand. He would gaze up at Mary and smile, as if to thank her, gently squeezing my hand. He would turn and smile at me, and I would smile back, tears trickling down both our faces. And we sat like this for what seemed an eternity. It felt so right to be there with Mary, together, in love.

When we eventually left, I took his hand and led him over to the curb of this little cobble-stoned street behind the church. We sat down, I took both his hands, and I said to him in the best French I could speak, "I need to tell you something. I love you like I have never loved anyone in my life, and I want to be with you forever. I want you to be my husband." And with tears streaming down our faces, he said "I want it too." And like that, we were engaged.

So this little chapel is "our place" now. He goes there when he feels the need to talk to Mary, to thank her, to ask her to watch over us. He sends me photos of the place to show me that he's been there. And it was this story that moved my friend Joseph to make this icon as a gift for us. On the back, he wrote after the dedication to us, "In thanksgiving for the love you share, and the intercessions of our Lady."

The first time that I cried with him was over 8 months ago and everyday, just as I hoped I would, I cry, not out of sadness, but out of a feeling of abundance, being so full of love I can't stop it. There are these moments when I know our souls speak to each other across the distance. When I'm down and I think of him, suddenly, there's an email. When I wake up in the middle of the night, he's just sent me a message to tell me he's awake and starting his day and thinking of me. There are flowers, rainbows, colors in the clouds, dreams, songs on the radio. All these little moments, these little signs, these little pieces of evidence that we're connected, that our souls are together even when we're not.

Maybe we see the things we want to see. Maybe we hear the things we want to hear. But whatever it is, it has given us the strength to live 4,000 miles apart, but at the same time, to live this amazing dream into reality.

So what am I saying tonight, besides telling you the most beautiful story I've ever lived? I guess my message hasn't changed much from what I said here, on this spot, a little more than a year ago. I still believe that God is always speaking to us, and we must always listen for that voice, we must always look for that angel in the faces of those around us, and we must act on it. You never know where it will lead you.

Last April, I certainly didn't expect this. I chose to leave my job, thinking I would be well on my way to becoming a priest in a year's time. But here I stand with new choices, new dreams, new plans. Anywhere along the way, I could have chosen differently. I could have decided to stay in my old job. I could have decided not to travel after leaving that job. I could have decided not to say hello. I could have decided not to go back and find him again. I could have decided not to open myself up to this amazing possibility. But, instead, I listened to something deep inside me. I listened to love. I listened to the voice of God. And for me, that's faith.