By Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz, D.D. God of all ages, You always work to save us, and now we rejoice in the great love You give to your chosen people. Bless and protect all who are about to become Your children through baptism, and all who seek full communion with us. Grant this through our Lord Jesus Christ, Your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God forever and ever. Amen.
This opening prayer is proclaimed at the Rite of Election for Catechumens, the elect who are preparing for Baptism, Confirmation, and Eucharist; and Candidates, those preparing for Confirmation and Eucharist, all who are seeking to enter into full communion in the Catholic Church through their parish communities.
This is the Order of Christian Initiation of Adults, the process through which adults, primarily but also those above the age of reason, like Sister Thea Bowman at age nine, discern if the Holy Spirit is directing them to the bosom of the Catholic Church. This year the Rite of Election in the Diocese of Jackson took place at St. Francis in Madison, and St. John in Oxford. The OCIA is a hope-filled and joyful process for individuals, families, parish communities, and dioceses. It can also assist the traditional Catholic in their Lenten journey to hear the Lord’s call to repentance to live in a manner worthy of our calling and for the renewal of our Baptism promises at Easter.
Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz, D.D.
You are always at work to save, O God, is the initial verse of the above prayer, and Pope Francis in his Lenten address recounts God’s words to Moses at the Burning Bush to bring forth the active presence of God in our world and in our lives.
“When the Lord calls out to Moses from the burning bush, he immediately shows that he is a God who sees and, above all, hears: ‘I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry…. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them.’ (Exodus 3:7-8)” In the fullness of time God’s personal encounter with all humanity reaches its fulfillment in Jesus Christ who is “with us always until the end of time.” (Matthew 28:20)
In his Lenten address Pope Francis often speaks of the journey from slavery in its many forms to freedom through faith in Jesus Christ. “In the Exodus account, there is a significant detail: it is God who sees, is moved and brings freedom; Israel does not ask for this. Pharaoh stifles dreams, blocks the view of heaven, makes it appear that this world, in which human dignity is trampled upon and authentic bonds are denied, can never change. He put everything in bondage to himself. Let us ask: Do I want a new world? Am I ready to leave behind my compromises with the old?” Pharoah, who easily stands for the evil one, in league with any of the idols we construct, wants us to be subjects; the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ wants beloved children. What a difference!
An essential part of the Liturgy of Baptism is a series of questions addressed to the parents and godparents, as well as to adult catechumens. They place us in the desert with Jesus who rebuffed the devil’s allures and temptations.
“Do you reject Satan, and all his works, and all his empty promises?”
“Do you reject the glamor of evil and refuse to be mastered by sin?”
Our affirmative responses express our commitment to the spiritual warfare against sin and evil that prayer, fasting and almsgiving effectively counter.
At the end of his Lenten message Pope Francis endeavors to rally the faithful. “To the extent that this Lent becomes a time of conversion, an anxious humanity will notice a burst of creativity, a flash of new hope. Allow me to repeat what I told the young people whom I met in Lisbon last summer: Keep seeking and be ready to take risks. At this moment in time, we face enormous risks; we hear the painful plea of so many people. Indeed, we are experiencing a third world war fought piecemeal. Yet let us find the courage to see our world, not as being in its death throes but in a process of giving birth, not at the end but at the beginning of a great new chapter of history. We need courage to think like this.”
By putting on the armor of God we claim our dignity as God’s children, as ambassadors of Jesus Christ, ministers of reconciliation, in effect, new creations. (2Corinthians 5:20) Indeed, the Kingdom of God is at hand for our receiving.
“Our affirmative responses express our commitment to the spiritual warfare against sin and evil that prayer, fasting and almsgiving effectively counter.”
To discern the diocesan priesthood is to discern whether the Lord is calling you to a certain place. Religious priests can get assignments in a variety of locations based on where their order is serving. For instance, a Jesuit might get assigned to teach at Creighton University in Omaha, Nebraska, or at Jesuit High School in New Orleans. We have Franciscan priests serving in our diocese, and they could be called to serve in various other locations outside of our diocese, and the same could be said of the Sacred Heart Fathers that serve the Northwestern part of the diocese. But for the men who are discerning whether to enter the diocesan priesthood, they need to discern whether the Diocese of Jackson will be the place where they will give their life away to Jesus and His church.
Father Nick Adam
In order to help our seminarians get a ‘good look’ at our diocese, we’ve been making concerted efforts to assign them to parishes whenever they have extended breaks from their studies in New Orleans. I appreciate that the seminaries we use are very supportive of these efforts. This past Christmas break I had three of our seminarians staying with me at the Cathedral Rectory, and when the seminarians were off again earlier this month for Mardi Gras, Francisco Maldonado spent his five-day break back up here at the Cathedral. Over that weekend we visited a homebound parishioner, helped out at a Confirmation retreat, went to a Super Bowl party, and went to the movies, along with the weekend and weekday Mass schedule of course! It was a great picture for him of a priests’ day-to-day existence!
As I continue to learn how to be a better vocation director, I’ve started being more focused with our guys regarding the need to discern this place. During my time in seminary, I prayed long and hard regarding whether God was calling me to serve these people in this diocese. Knowing that I focused on that during my formation has helped me be more ‘all-in’ when it comes to my priestly ministry. As my assignments have changed and my responsibilities have increased, I can look back on my time in seminary as confirmation that the Lord called me to serve these people in this place, and so I need to do whatever it takes to serve them well.
Having seminarians around the parish is also just life-giving. There is something energizing about having men who are freshly on-fire for the Lord around. They have helped me rededicate myself to the ‘basics’ that I learned back in my days of seminary.
Thank you for your encouragement of our men while they spend time in parishes around the diocese.
Father Nick Adam, vocation director
(Father Nick Adam can be contacted at nick.adam@jacksondiocese.org.)
God behaves in the psalms in ways that God is not allowed to behave in theology. That quip comes from Sebastian Moore and should be highlighted at a time when fewer people want to use the psalms in prayer because they feel offended by what they sometimes find there. More and more, we see people resisting the psalms as a way to pray (or desire to sanitize them) because the psalms speak of murder, revenge, anger, violence, war-making, and patriarchy.
Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
Some ask, how can I pray with words that are full of hatred, anger, violence, speak of the glories of war, and of crushing one’s enemies in the name of God? For others, the objection is to a patriarchal coloring in the psalms – where the divine is masculine and the masculine is too-much deified. For yet others, the offense is aesthetic. Their objection: “They’re bad poetry!”
Perhaps the psalms aren’t great poetry and undeniably do smack of violence, war, hatred of one’s enemies, and the desire for vengeance, all in the name of God. Admittedly, they’re also patriarchal in character. But does that make them a bad language for prayer? Let me suggest something to the contrary.
One of the classical definitions of prayer says “prayer is lifting mind and heart to God.” Simple, clear, accurate. I suggest that the actual problem is that we seldom actually do this when we pray. Rather than lifting up to God what is actually on our minds and in our hearts, we tend to treat God as someone from whom we need to hide the real truth of our thoughts and feelings. Instead of pouring out mind and heart, we tell God what we think God wants to hear – not murderous thoughts, desire for vengeance, or our disappointment with God.
But expressing those feelings is the whole point. What makes the psalms particularly apt for prayer is that they do not hide the truth from God but express the whole gamut of our actual feelings. They give an honest voice to what’s actually going on in our minds and hearts.
Sometimes we feel good and our spontaneous impulse is to speak words of praise and gratitude, and the psalms give us that voice. They speak of God’s goodness in everything – love, friends, faith, health, food, wine, enjoyment. But we don’t always feel that way. Our lives also have their cold, lonely seasons when disappointment and bitterness simmer or rage under the surface. The psalms give us honest voice where we can open up all those simmering feelings to God. Also, there are times when we are filled with the sense of our own inadequacy, with the fact that we cannot measure up to the trust and love that’s given us. Again, the psalms give us voice for this, asking God to be merciful and to soften our hearts, wash us clean, and give us a new start.
As well, there are times when we feel bitterly disappointed with God and need some way to express this. The psalms give us voice for this (“Why are you so silent?” “Why are you so far from me?”) even as they make us aware that God is not afraid of our anger and bitterness; but, like a loving parent, only wants us to come and talk about it. The psalms are a privileged vehicle for prayer because they lift the full range of our thoughts and feelings to God.
However, there are a number of reasons why we struggle with that. First, because our age tends to eschew metaphor and taken literally, some of the images in the psalms are offensive. Second, we tend to be in denial about our actual feelings. It’s hard to admit that we feel some of the things we sometimes feel – grandiosity, sexual obsessions, jealousies, bitterness, paranoia, murderous thoughts, disappointment with God, doubts in our faith. Too often our prayer belies our actual thoughts and feelings. It tells God what we think God wants to hear. The psalms are more honest.
To pray with full honesty is a challenge. Kathleen Norris puts it this way: If you pray regularly “there is no way you can do it right. You are not always going to sit up straight, let alone think holy thoughts. You’re not going to wear your best clothes but whatever isn’t in the dirty clothes basket. You come to the Bible’s great `book of praise’ through all the moods and conditions of life, and while you feel like hell, you sing anyway. To your surprise, you find that the psalms do not deny your true feelings but allow you to reflect them, right in front of God and everyone.”
Feel-good aphorisms that express how we think we ought to feel are no substitute for the earthy realism of the psalms which express how sometimes we actually do feel. Anyone who would lift mind and heart to God without ever mentioning feelings of bitterness, jealousy, vengeance, hatred, and war, should write slogans for greeting cards and not be anyone’s spiritual advisor.
(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a theologian, teacher and award-winning author. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com.)
”What are you giving up for Lent?” For many Catholics, the question appears almost automatically – and even before the last box of Christmas decorations has been packed up and stowed away. As someone who spent most of my life in that category and with that crowd, I think it’s because Lent can feel a lot like a competition, a 40-day spiritual marathon with winners and losers.
Every Ash Wednesday, it seemed to me, the church threw personal holiness down like a gauntlet. The point, I thought, was to accept the challenge and do everything in my power to excel in achieving it. My naturally competitive nature means that I have always been more than willing to take up just about any challenge. Living the faith was no exception.
Jaymie Stuart Wolfe is a sinner, Catholic convert, freelance writer and editor, musician, speaker, pet-aholic, wife and mom of eight grown children, loving life in New Orleans.
That’s one reason why I figured that the more demanding and strenuous Lent was, the better. It was a matter of simple logic. If fasting on Fridays demonstrated my love for God, then fasting on Wednesdays and Fridays would do so even more. If praying one novena was good, two or three had to be even more beneficial. Whenever I heard about someone else’s sacrifice, I’d up the ante for myself. If someone was giving up coffee, I’d commit to drinking only water. When someone I knew gave up chocolate (and there was always someone who did), I’d attempt to give up sweets of any kind. There were years I even put pebbles or toothpicks in the soles of my shoes for the season. Nothing was too much for me.
And that was the problem. In doing all those things, I failed to grasp the point of Lenten penitential practices and disciplines. I didn’t realize that because nothing was too much, nothing would ever be enough. Rather than accepting my weaknesses, I tried to live my spiritual life beyond my means and the measure of my strength. And those efforts never produced the fruit of repentance in my life. Instead, they left me exhausted and puffed up. Eventually, I finally recognized that intensifying penitential practices in preparation for Easter isn’t about spiritual bootstrapping or one-upmanship. As a result, I decided to give up giving up things for Lent.
So, for more than a decade now, I’ve been letting God choose what I give up for Lent. And he has chosen some real doozies. The things God has invited me to sacrifice have challenged me at a much deeper level because they call for more faith than I can muster on my own. This approach has made a real difference in what I gain from Lenten practices because God knows what I need better than I do. He is happy to show me all the things I have allowed to take his place. And he is more than willing to reveal the pantheon of idols in my heart, especially when I am convinced that I have none.
The truth is that the crosses I used to choose – even the most difficult ones – were still within my control, simply because I was the one who chose them. Sometimes, they required significant discipline on my part, but they also fueled my pride. In contrast, moving across the country, facing a health scare or losing financial security pulls the ground out from under me. And that’s the only way I can truly know what I’ve been standing on all along.
God understands precisely what it will take to make each one of us rely on him, to accept his grace and to trust him more completely.
As St. Francis de Sales wrote, “The everlasting God has in his wisdom foreseen from eternity the cross that he now presents to you as a gift of his inmost heart. This cross he now sends you he has considered with his all-knowing eyes, understood with his divine mind, tested with his wise justice, warmed with loving arms, and weighed with his own hands to see that it is not one inch too large nor one ounce too heavy for you. He has blessed it with his holy name, anointed it with his grace, perfumed it with his consolation, taken one last glance at you and your courage, and then sent it to you from heaven, a special greeting from God to you, an alms of the all-merciful love of God.”
(Jaymie Stuart Wolfe is a sinner, Catholic convert, freelance writer and editor, musician, speaker, pet-aholic, wife and mom of eight grown children, loving life in New Orleans.)
January was National Slavery and Human Trafficking Prevention Month, leading up to the Feb. 8 feast of St. Josephine Bakhita. St. Josephine Bakhita was a young southern Sudanese girl who was kidnapped and sold into slavery. She eventually was bought by an Italian diplomat and taken to Venice, where she encountered the Catholic faith.
Her story is an interesting one, since escaping from slavery was not an easy task even in Italy during the 19th century, yet Josephine persevered and became a Canossian sister. She was canonized by St. John Paul II, who in his homily said, “We find a shining advocate of genuine emancipation.” Josephine has become the patron saint of those enslaved and trafficked, as well as one venerated by African American Catholics in the United States and also the patron saint of Sudan.
Bishop Nicholas DiMarzio is retired bishop of the Diocese of Brooklyn, N.Y. He writes the column “Walking With Migrants” for Catholic News Service and The Tablet. (OSV News photo/courtesy DeSales Media Group)
Human trafficking, often referred to as a modern form of slavery, involves using force, fraud or coercion to make someone provide labor or engage in sexual activities against their will. Migrants are particularly vulnerable to trafficking because, in their desperation, they may resort to paying a smuggler to arrange transportation to their destination.
Exploiting this vulnerability, smugglers may then traffic migrants for labor or sex. The hazards migrants encounter during their difficult journeys can expose them to trafficking, regardless of whether they have used a smuggler before.
Even though those who are smuggled might initially consent and pay a fee for transportation to their desired country, some soon find themselves recruited or lured into situations of sexual exploitation, forced labor or indentured servitude – whether it happens before, during or after their migration journey. Trafficked individuals are frequently deceived with promises of a good job and a better life or, like St. Bakhita, kidnapped.
Awareness of the problem is a critical tool to combat the crime of human trafficking, which is a worldwide problem. Due to the underreported nature of the crime, it is difficult to gather accurate statistics of those trafficked and exploited. Nevertheless, the Global Slavery Index reports that at any given moment there are nearly 50 million people living in a situation of modern slavery. Estimates show there are about 1 million people living in situations of slavery in the United States.
The bimonthly newsletter put out by the anti-trafficking office of the U.S. bishops’ conference titled “Hidden in Plain Sight,” highlights how often we fail to see trafficking situations in our own communities. Hidden in plain sight is the best way to describe this reality, as they are sometimes hidden in nail salons, massage parlors or in sectors of the entertainment industry.
Awareness, prevention and detection are effective tools to eliminate human trafficking from our midst. How important it is that we keep watch for any signs of those who may be ill-treated in their workplaces, understand what might constitute a human trafficking situation and then report it to the proper authorities who can then intervene.
It is admirable that many female religious orders have dedicated much of their resources, both personnel and financial, to combating this terrible scourge on our world society. Most of those trafficked are women, but young and middle-aged men are among those trafficked.
A Prayer to St. Josephine Bakhita St. Josephine Bakhita, you were sold into slavery as a child and endured untold hardship and suffering. Once liberated from your physical enslavement, you found proper redemption in your encounter with Christ and his church. O, St. Bakhita, assist all those trapped in a state of slavery; Intercede with God on their behalf so that they will be released from their chains of captivity. Those whom man enslaves, let God set free. Provide comfort to survivors of slavery and let them look to you as an example of hope and faith. Help all survivors find healing from their wounds. We ask for your prayers and intercessions for those enslaved among us. Amen.
(Bishop Nicholas DiMarzio is the retired bishop of the Diocese of Brooklyn, New York. He writes the column “Walking With Migrants” for The Tablet and OSV News.)
Por Ron Rolheiser La piedad es enemiga del humor, al menos cuando algo menos que piedad se disfraza de piedad. Aquí hay un ejemplo: una vez viví en comunidad con un hombre demasiado serio que, después de que alguien contaba un chiste colorido, nos devolvía a la tierra con la pregunta: “¿Contarías un chiste como ese frente al Santísimo Sacramento?” Eso no sólo desinfló el chiste y a su narrador, sino que también quitó el oxígeno de la habitación.
Tres monaguillos bromean mientras uno de ellos sostiene un modelo de una iglesia en la fiesta del Cuerpo de la Sangre de Cristo el 22 de mayo en el pueblo de Seehausen, Alemania. La comunidad celebró su tradicional procesión de Corpus Christi, que se desplaza principalmente en barco por el lago Staffelsee. (Foto CNS/Alexandra Beier, Reuters)
Hay una respuesta que me hubiera gustado dar a su pregunta: un chiste que solía contar mi maestro de novicios oblato, cuya ironía expone la falsa piedad. El chiste es el siguiente: una joven se iba a casar y su familia no podía permitirse un lugar para la recepción de la boda.
El párroco les ofreció generosamente el vestíbulo de la entrada de la iglesia, diciéndoles que podían traer una tarta y hacer una recepción allí. El padre de la novia preguntó si también podían traer algo de licor. “Por supuesto que no”, respondió el sacerdote, “¡no se puede beber licor en una iglesia!” “Pero”, protestó el padre de la novia, “Jesús bebió vino en las bodas de Caná”. “¡Pero no delante del Santísimo Sacramento!” respondió el sacerdote.
Es cierto que el humor puede ser impío, grosero, ofensivo, sucio, pero cuando es así el fallo suele estar más en la estética que en el contenido del chiste. Un chiste no es ofensivo porque trata sobre sexo, religión o cualquier otro área que rodeamos de sacralidad. El humor es ofensivo cuando cruza una línea en términos de respeto, gusto y estética. El humor es ofensivo cuando es mal arte. El mal arte cruza una línea en términos de respeto, ya sea hacia su audiencia o hacia su tema.
La Madre Teresa se ríe con otras hermanas de su orden durante una visita a Washington en 1996. Las Misioneras de la Caridad fueron fundadas por la Madre Teresa en 1950. Desde entonces se han extendido por todo el mundo ayudando a los pobres y moribundos. (Foto de archivo CNS de Michael Alexander)
Lo que puede hacer que un chiste sea ofensivo o sucio es cuándo se cuenta, o cómo se cuenta, o a quién se cuenta, o el tono en el que se cuenta, o la falta de sensibilidad ante lo que se cuenta, o el color de la lengua. el lenguaje tal como se cuenta. Si se puede decir o no antes del Santísimo Sacramento no es un criterio.
Si un chiste no se debe contar delante del santísimo sacramento, no se debe contar delante de nadie. No hay dos estándares de ofensiva.
Aún así, la mala piedad es enemiga del humor. También es enemigo de una vida sólida y terrenal. Pero ese es sólo el caso de la mala piedad, no de la piedad genuina. La piedad genuina es uno de los frutos del Espíritu Santo y es una reverencia saludable ante toda la vida. Pero es una reverencia que, si bien es sanamente respetuosa, no se ve ofendida por el humor (incluso el humor robusto y terrenal), siempre que el humor no sea estéticamente ofensivo, similar a la desnudez, que es saludable en el arte pero ofensiva en la pornografía.
La falsa sensibilidad que se disfraza de piedad despoja también de humor toda espiritualidad, salvo la más piadosa. Al hacer eso, en efecto, hace que Jesús, María y los santos pierdan el humor y, por lo tanto, sean menos que plenamente humanos y saludables. Uno de nuestros mentores en nuestro noviciado oblato nos dijo, jóvenes novicios, que no hay ni un solo incidente reportado en las Escrituras en el que Jesús se riera alguna vez. Nos dijo esto para apagar nuestra energía natural, juvenil y bulliciosa, como si de alguna manera esto fuera un obstáculo para ser religiosos.
La energía humorística no es un obstáculo para ser religioso. De lo contrario. Jesús es el modelo de todo lo que es saludablemente humano, y él, sin duda, era una persona humana completamente sana, robusta y deliciosa, y ninguna de esas palabras (sana, robusta, deliciosa) se aplicaría a él si no hubiera tenido un sentido del humor saludable, incluso terrenal.
Durante quince años enseñé un curso titulado La Teología de Dios a seminaristas y otras personas que se preparaban para el ministerio. Intentaría cubrir todas las bases requeridas en el plan de estudios: revelación bíblica, ideas patrísticas, enseñanzas normativas de la iglesia y puntos de vista especulativos de los teólogos contemporáneos. Pero, dentro de todo esto, como un tema recurrente en una ópera, les diría esto a los estudiantes: en toda su predicación, enseñanza y prácticas pastorales, cualquier otra cosa, traten de no hacer que Dios parezca estúpido. Trate de no hacer que Dios parezca poco inteligente, tribal, mezquino, rígido, nacionalista, enojado o temeroso. Cada homilía, cada enseñanza teológica, cada práctica eclesial y cada práctica pastoral refleja en última instancia una imagen de Dios, lo queramos o no. Y si hay algo que no es saludable en nuestra predicación o prácticas pastorales, el Dios que lo respalda también aparecerá como insalubre. Un Dios sano no sustenta una teología, eclesiología o antropología enfermas.
Por lo tanto, si enseñamos a un Jesús que carece de humor, que se ofende por lo terrenal de la vida, que se siente incómodo al escuchar la palabra sexo, que se estremece ante el lenguaje colorido y que tiene miedo de sonreír y reírse de la ironía, el ingenio y el humor, hacemos que Jesús parezca rígido y tenso, un mojigato, y no la persona con la que quieres estar en la mesa.
(El padre oblato Ron Rolheiser es teólogo, maestro y autor galardonado. Se le puede contactar a través de su sitio web www.ronrolheiser.com. Facebook/ronrolheiser)
Hermanas de las Siervas de los Corazones Traspasados de Jesús y María de Miami, Florida, bromean juntas al final del primer día de la conferencia del Consejo de Superioras Mayores de Mujeres Religiosas en St. Louis el 13 de noviembre. (Foto CNS/Lisa Johnston, St. Louis Review)
JACKSON – Archbishop Thomas Rodi of Mobile lays hands on Bishop Joseph Kopacz during his ordination as Bishop of Jackson on Feb. 6, 2014. (Photo from archives)
By Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz, D.D. Just shy of 47 years a priest and now 10 years as the 11th Bishop of Jackson, I give thanks to the great High Priest, Jesus Christ for the gift of serving Him, His body the church, and the Kingdom of God in this world.
The Lord pronounced that “I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.” (John 10:10) This promise has been fulfilled ten-fold in my life. Indeed, abundance is the stamp of priesthood and episcopal ministry. Whether blessings or burdens, for me iIt has been a life of purpose especially over the unanticipated bends in the road.
A few days following my consecration and installation on Feb. 6, 2014, I treasured the opportunity to fly from Madison to St. Mary’s Basilica in Natchez, to St. Joseph in Greenville, to St. James in Tupelo, and to St. Joseph in Starkville, and in the process to have my first encounters with the faithful. During those 12 hours, 7 a.m. to 7 p.m., from an ariel view of 3,000 feet a large swath of the Diocese of Jackson stretched out before me, a grand view that remains vivid to this day. Play it forward, and 10 years and 300,000 miles later, via modern day horsepower, have given me boots on the ground experience forming a deep bond with the Diocese of Jackson and the State of Mississippi. Of course, it’s not a matter of miles, but of mission and ministries and the Catholic people who make up the communities of faith throughout 65 counties.
As my anniversary approached there were two events a week ago that afforded me the opportunity to deepen the understanding that the gift I have received can only be graciously lived in turn. Unexpectedly, Bishop Mario Dorsonville died from health complications after serving only 10 months as the Ordinary of Houma-Thibodaux. At his Mass of Christian burial, the shock and sadness of those in the congregation were plain to see, and at moments I could not help but be self-referential considering the timeframe of his ten months and my ten years. If he were blessed to serve ten years, he would have been my age looking back in gratitude over a decade of service in the Bayou of Louisiana. We know not the day nor the hour, only that each day is the moment at hand, and the weeks, months and years follow rhythmically under the wings of Divine Providence.
The following day, on Friday of last week I had a visitor from Northeastern Pennsylvania, who was on his way to begin a new chapter of active duty in the Army Corps Band at Fort Hood, Texas. Liam and his brother Luke, my godson, served at my Mass of consecration and installation as early adolescents. Now they are 23 and their adult lives are unfolding with energy and enthusiasm.
Over breakfast at Broad Street Bakery, he just happened to mention that he could retire after 20 years at age 42, and then floated the question – “by the way, how old will you be at retirement?” That’s a number he couldn’t even compute. As he savored his grits it struck me that over ten years a number of folks in my life have left this world, and others have come of age. And yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus and yes, someday I will retire. But meanwhile I am still on active duty and grateful for the energy and motivation that propel me forward each day. Another way of naming this is God’s grace in varied and splendid ways, especially implored in the Eucharistic prayer at each Mass when I am lifted up by name.
Finally, I give thanks for the countless collaborators in the ministry – ordained, religious, and lay – whose love for the Lord Jesus and the church, whose generosity and Gospel commitment are a fountain of inspiration every day. Let the new decade begin and may the bends in the road ahead continue the adventure in that sacred space between time and eternity. Ad multos anos!
In John’s Gospel two disciples of John the Baptist begin to follow Jesus and ask him where he is staying. He responds with an invitation: ‘Come and See.’ (John 1:38-39)
We know that one of these disciples was Andrew, the brother of Peter. It is believed that the other disciple is John the Evangelist. John often makes mention of the disciple “whom Jesus loved,” and it is very possible that this is John himself. But we can also place ourselves in that position of the beloved disciple. We are all students of Jesus who are loved by him without reserve. Often, however, we live as if Jesus has nothing to teach us, and he’s just there to help us when we need it.
Each spring on Palm Sunday weekend, St. Joseph Seminary College hosts a ‘Come and See’ retreat for young men who are open to the call to priesthood. This retreat serves as a point on the road for young disciples as they gather information and seek to discern their vocation well.
Father Nick Adam
I try to send as many guys on this retreat as possible each year because it is a great way to see what seminary life is really like. Seminarians are not ‘normal’ in many ways: they schedule their life around prayer and Mass, and that’s not the norm. But they are very ‘normal’ in other ways. They have hobbies and interests far beyond the pews. They love to build good community and spend time having fun. In some ways, the seminary is the place where men go to learn a more virtuous ‘normal.’ In the secular world, we learn many things that seem normal but are actually damaging to our consciences and our souls. Bad language is thrown around like it’s nothing, and vicious behavior is talked about on a sliding scale depending on the audience.
In the seminary men are normal, but they have been invited to ‘Come and See’ a new way of living as they are challenged to rise above the small-ness of a life focused on self and move toward a life lived for God. That focus could lead them toward the ultimate end of priestly ordination, but even if it doesn’t, they are shown a way of living that helps them be the virtuous men that our society needs. At the ‘come and see’ retreat, visitors get a look at this way of life firsthand. They see the ‘normal-ness’ of the seminarians but also they are inspired by the different way of life they have voluntarily chosen.
I hope that we will have a great group of men going to the ‘Come and See’ this spring. Please pray that the men who are being called to this event have the courage to reach out to me and overcome the obstacles that can sometimes appear when something important is happening. Pray that many more men will want to follow Jesus wherever he leads them.
Father Nick Adam, vocation director
(Father Nick Adam can be contacted at nick.adam@jacksondiocese.org.)
Is this new or are we just more aware of it? Hatred and contempt are everywhere. They are in our government houses, in our communities, in our churches and in our families. We are struggling, mostly without success, to be civil with each other; let alone to respect each other. Why? Why is this happening and intensifying?
Moreover, on both sides, we are often justifying this hatred on moral grounds, even biblical grounds, claiming that the Gospel itself gives us grounds for our disrespect – My truth is so right and you are so wrong that I can disrespect you and I have biblical grounds to hate you!
Well, even a cursory look at scripture should be enough to enable us to see this for what it is; rationalization, self-interest – and the farthest thing from Jesus.
Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
Let’s begin with something already taught long before Jesus. In the Jewish scriptures, we already find this text: “I have made you contemptible and base before all the people, since you do not keep my ways, but show partiality in your decisions. Have we not all the one Father? Has not the one God created us? Why do we break faith with one another?” (Malachi 2:8-10) Long before Jesus, Jewish spirituality already demanded that we be fair and never show partiality. However, it still gave us permission to hate our enemies and to take revenge when we have been wronged – “an eye for an eye.”
Jesus turns this on its head. Everywhere in his person and in his teaching, most explicitly in the Sermon on the Mount, he challenges us in a radically new way, telling us that, if we want to go to heaven, our virtue needs to go deeper than that of the Scribes and the Pharisees. What was their virtue?
The Scribes and Pharisees of his time were very much like the church-going Christians of our time. They were sincere, essentially honest, basically good people, who kept the commandments and practiced strict justice. But, according to Jesus, that isn’t enough. Why? If you are a sincere person who is honest, keeps the commandments, and is fair to everyone, what’s still missing? What’s still missing lies at the very heart of Jesus’ moral teaching, namely, the practice of a love and forgiveness that goes beyond hatred and grievance. What exactly is this?
In justice and fairness, you are still entitled to hate someone who hates you and to extract an appropriate vengeance on someone who has wronged you. However, Jesus asks something else of us: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor’ and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. … If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matthew 5:43-48)
This is the very essence of Christian morality. Can you love someone who hates you? Can you do good to someone who wishes you evil? Can you forgive someone who has wronged you? Can you forgive a murderer? It’s this, and not some particular issue in moral theology, which is the litmus test for who is a Christian and who isn’t. Can you love someone who hates you? Can you forgive someone who has hurt you? Can you move beyond your natural proclivity for vengeance?
Sadly, today we are failing that test on both sides of the ideological and religious spectrum. We see this everywhere – from the highest levels of government, from high levels in our churches, and in public and private discourse everywhere, that is, people openly espousing disrespect, division, hatred and vengeance – and trying to claim the moral high ground in doing this. Major politicians speak openly and explicitly about hating others and about exacting revenge on those who oppose them. Worse still, churches and church leaders of every kind are lining up behind them and giving them “Gospel” support for their espousal of hatred and vengeance.
This needs to be named and challenged: anyone who is advocating division, disrespect, hatred or revenge is antithetical to Jesus and the Gospels. As well, anyone supporting such a person by an appeal to Jesus, the Gospels, or authentic morality, is also antithetical to Jesus and the Gospels.
God is love. Jesus is love enfleshed. Disrespect, hatred, division and revenge may never be preached in God’s or Jesus’ name, no matter the cause, no matter the anger, no matter the wrong. This doesn’t mean that we cannot have disagreements, spirited discussions and bitter debates. But disrespect, hatred, division and revenge (no matter how deeply they may in fact be felt inside us) may not be advocated in the name of goodness and Jesus. Division, disrespect, hatred and vengeance are the Anti-Christ.
(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a theologian, teacher and award-winning author. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com.)
Season four of “The Chosen,” the wildly popular series on the life of Jesus that began its existence as a crowd-funded streaming series, is finally here, much to the delight of fans around the world. This time around, all episodes will enjoy a theatrical release before debuting on streaming and broadcast outlets. At nearly the same time as season four is released, Catholics begin the liturgical season of Lent. “The Chosen” provides much inspiration that could kick start your Lenten reflection on how God might be inviting you to metanoia, or conversion, during this penitential season.
The first episode deals with the death of John the Baptist (David Amito) and the fallout of that for Jesus (Jonathan Roumie) and the apostles, especially Andrew (Noah James), one of John’s early followers. John’s faithfulness to his God-given vocation, even through imprisonment and death, encourages us to reflect on our own responses to God’s invitations. How have we responded to God’s prompting? How do we even recognize how God summons us to follow him on a daily basis? Are we courageous in the face of persecution, whatever form that may take, or do we shrink from it?
Sister Hosea Rupprecht is a workshop presenter and film critic for the Pauline Center for Media Studies. (OSV News photo/courtesy Daughters of St Paul)
In episode two, things heat up for Jesus following John’s execution. More than that, though, there is dissension in the ranks when Jesus declares that Simon (Shahar Isaac) is no longer Simon but Peter, the rock upon which his church will be built. That night around the campfire, the apostles start to bicker with comments like, “Is Peter the best?” and “He doesn’t act like a rock.” Have you ever felt disappointed in those in leadership positions? How did you respond? What place does humility have in your life? How might God be inviting you to deepen your humility?
Fans of the show will remember that Matthew (Paras Patel) is depicted as having some form of autism. He’s extremely precise – that made him a good tax collector – and he really doesn’t like physical contact. There’s a small scene in episode two when Matthew encounters his old friend, the Roman, Gaius (Kirk B.R. Woller). Gaius observes that Matthew seems different, more relaxed and at peace. Matthew’s response is all about trust in Jesus and surrender to God’s will. He says, “I have only one thing to do today: Follow him. The rest takes care of itself.” What if every Christian could have that attitude? What would happen if we could let go of the problems that worry us and give them all over to God? Is there one thing in my life right now that I need to let go of and relinquish to God? How might I do that this Lent?
Lent is a time to think about the need for reconciliation and forgiveness. In “The Chosen,” the ongoing tension between Matthew and Simon (now Peter) started way back when Matthew almost turned Peter over to the Romans for unpaid taxes. Matthew has never apologized for his actions, and Peter holds onto his resentment. With hostility increasing all around them, Matthew feels unsettled and seeks out Jesus. Jesus helps him to see the need to own up to his actions and reach out to Peter. Jesus tells Matthew that one apologizes to repent, but that forgiveness is a gift from another person. It cannot be demanded.
The thing is, neither Matthew nor Peter is ready to reconcile. Jesus is gentle in his prodding saying, “There is no peace when two of my followers hold resentment against one another.” Since there are over 2 billion Christians in the world, it can be assumed that there are enough resentments to displace the peace that comes with following Jesus. What is one resentment that you could let go of this Lent? Do you need to apologize to anyone? Do you have the power to offer the gift of forgiveness to someone who has hurt you? What’s holding you back?
Yes, “The Chosen” is a made-up television series and not the Gospel itself. Yet, the power of media stories is that they show real, flawed humans, just like you and me, interacting in an imaginative way. “The Chosen,” in particular, can inspire us to take what we see on screen and prompt us to look at our inner selves and the quality of our own following of Christ, especially during this Season of Lent.
(Sister Hosea Rupprecht, a Daughter of St. Paul, is the associate director of the Pauline Center for Media Studies.)
