I was blessed to spend the first weekend of March with the youth of the diocese at DCYC in Vicksburg. I know that this is being covered in another part of this issue, but I wanted to share my perspective! Each year I am blown away by the excellence of the event which our diocesan youth office puts on under the leadership of Abbey Schuhmann. The speaker and the musicians were full of faith and energy and inspired the kids, and myself.
Our seminarians help in various ways for the youth convention each year, and this year we noted that it felt like we were all a ‘well-oiled machine.’ I was really proud of Deacon Tristan Stovall and Grayson Foley as they were the masters of ceremony at the event; and Will Foggo, as he organized all the liturgies for the weekend. Our newer seminarians got their feet wet at the event supporting the organizing efforts of the other guys and walking with the youth and getting to know them.
VICKSBURG – Parish teams engaged in team building to construct the tallest tower to see which group will be first in line for dinner at DCYC. (Photo courtesy Lauren Roberts)
But it wasn’t just our seminarians providing support – I’m just in charge of them! It was really encouraging to see the network of young people in the church bringing along the younger generation and walking with them. Amelia Rizor helped coordinate a team of college students from her campus ministry team to walk with the kids and organize events. There were fantastic chaperones and youth ministers who continue to help our young people grow in their faith and inspire them to share the Gospel.
I came away from the weekend encouraged by the teamwork and dynamic leadership that our church has, especially in the young people who are at these events and on fire for the Lord. I have known many of our seminarians since they were in high school – they’ve been formed by our schools and our parish catechesis programs and our pastors and youth leaders, and they are sharing those gifts. I’ve also known many of our young youth leaders since they were in high school, and they are sharing their gifts as well.
This is the sort of teamwork that shows that we are members of One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church. I’d like to thank Abbey and her team for letting my department play a role at diocesan youth convention, and I look forward to seeing it continue to grow and bring forth great leaders in the church for years to come.
Father Nick Adam, vocation director
(Father Nick Adam can be contacted at nick.adam@jacksondiocese.org.)
”For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)
Church leadership hears the same often bleak news about the state of religion in our country. According to the most recent PEW Research study, 28 percent of adults in the United States are religiously unaffiliated. The religiously unaffiliated are also known as nones.
The decline in membership is being felt across the spectrum of Christian denominations. The questions this reality begs are many but chief among them is simply – why? Why are folks leaving organized religion? According to the PEW study:
The reason “nones” give most often for not having a religion is that they question religious teachings: 60% say doubt about these teachings is an extremely or very important reason why they are nonreligious. In addition, 32% cite a lack of belief in God or any other higher power. Altogether, 67% cite skepticism or nonbelief (or some combination of both) as a key factor in why they are nonreligious. Meanwhile, 47% of “nones” say their dislike of religious organizations is an extremely or very important reason they are nonreligious. And 30% cite bad experiences with religious people. Altogether, 55% of “nones” mention religious organizations or religious people (or both) as key reasons for being nonreligious. About four-in-ten “nones” attribute their lack of religiousness to not having a need for religion in their lives. And 12% say they don’t have time for religion. Altogether, 44% cite a lack of need or a lack of time (or both) as reasons for why they are not religious.
I have been working on the Pastoral Reimagining process for the diocese for the last year. Enveloped in this process is a desire to dream. It is important to dream but it is equally important to anchor our dreams in reality. This process for me has done both. The question posed by many of our parishes and missions is how do we reach out to the “nones” that once identified as Catholic? What are the areas of church life that need to be examined and reimagined?
Fran Lavelle
The diocesan process for the Synod on Synodality identified unity and healing as the greatest need in our parishes. I refer to it as finding our way back to one another. Like any relationship some people have moved on feeling like they no longer need the church. Other folks have told me that they “took a break” for going to Mass and didn’t really miss anything. The challenge in all of this is not be defensive and assign blame on those who no longer worship with us. The difficult thing to do is look at who we are as a community and ask how we can be more welcoming and inviting. This is not to say that there needs to be a cheesy welcome to visitors like it’s their first time on a cruise ship, but a reinforcement of everything we do from the time people arrive in the parking lot until the time they get in their cars to leave they have been surrounded by the love of Christ manifested in how they were treated when they were with us.
We have a tendency to dismiss the missing. Statements like, “if they only believed this” or “if they were more that” diminish our responsibility to understanding why people leave in the first place. Many of those who have left said that once they were gone no one called or wrote to see how they were doing. One of my former college students told me after she left college and moved to a large city, “no one noticed when I was there, and no one noticed when I was gone.”
Catholics are creatures of habit. Most families sit within a two-pew area every week. The other members of this noted pew seating chart know when someone is not there. How can we respectfully reach out without seeming nosey? One of my friends at St. Joseph in Starkville lets me know when she is out of town, so my Mom doesn’t worry about her. Likewise, when Mom is not at Mass several church members “drop by the pew” on the way out and ask, “How’s Momma?”
It not only makes me realize how much they care about her, but it also makes me realize how easy it is to make the effort to let people know that their presence matters.
As Lent continues and Holy week approaches, who do we need to ask, ‘How’s Momma?”
(Fran Lavelle is the Director of Faith Formation for the Diocese of Jackson.)
Lent is a time of reparation – a season of sorrow for sins committed and expressions of a sincere desire to reform our lives. But what does it mean to be sorry? What are the components of real remorse?
Whether we are expressing sorrow to God, a spouse, family member or friend, it can be hard to say, “I’m sorry.” It can be even harder to say it well. Sometimes, when people say that they are sorry to us, we can feel like there is something missing. Often, it’s because there is. But what?
As we express our sorrow to God this Lent for the ways that our lives do not reflect his plan for us, it can be important to make sure our “I’m sorrys” have all the components of sincere remorse. Researchers note that good apologies involve three ingredients: empathy, restitution and objective criteria.
When people offer a sincere apology rooted not in obligation but genuine remorse, they tend to express a real emotional understanding of how their actions hurt us. “I am so sorry for doing that. I never meant to treat you that way. I know how badly you were hurt. Please forgive me.”
The truly remorseful person doesn’t make excuses or tell the person they hurt that they were “just kidding,” or that the wounded party needs to get a thicker skin or a better sense of humor. They understand the impact of their actions and they let you know that they feel your pain.
When we express our sorrow to God this Lent, are we going through the motions of repentance, or are we allowing ourselves to express genuine sorrow for the pain God feels when we reject his attempts to love us and make us whole?
When people offer a sincere apology, they don’t just “say the magic words.” They offer a plan for making things right again. Or, if they don’t know what to do to make it right, they ask you what you need them to do to heal the hurt their actions caused. They say things like, “The next time I feel that angry about something, I’m going to do this instead of that,” or, “I really want to make this right. What can I do to earn your trust again?”
Restitution isn’t about asking people to jump through hoops for the sake of watching them dance. It is about committing to the process of reconciliation – healing the wounds our actions caused.
When we confess our sins this Lent, have we put some time into how we would handle similar problem situations differently in the future? Hearing the words “I absolve you” is just the beginning. How will we let the grace of that absolution compel us to heal the wounds our actions have caused those we love, and how can we make sure to avoid those problem behaviors the next time we are tempted to go down a similar path?
Truly sorrowful people don’t hide out behind the belief that “the real problem” is that others are expecting too much of them. If we are truly sorry, we recognize that the person we hurt had an objective right to expect more from us.
How often do others apologize to us in ways that make us feel strangely ashamed for daring to expect them to be faithful, trustworthy or respectful? How often do the apologies others offer sound like, “I’m sorry, but don’t you think you’re being a little controlling/sensitive/judgmental/ needy/demanding/unfair?”
The person offering a sincere apology acknowledges that anyone in a similar situation would be reasonable to expect what you are asking of them. “You’re absolutely right to expect more of me. I’m really sorry I let you down.”
In our relationship with God, how often do we think that the real problem is that he is just asking for entirely too much. Sure, we’re sorry for what we did, but the real problem is that he expects us to be saints. Saints, I tell you! Can you believe it?!? How ridiculous is that?!?
As we conclude Lent, will we continue to pay lip service to the idea that God wants great things for us, or will we embrace the fact that every day he is calling us into deeper union with him and greater perfection in his grace?
Whether we are expressing remorse to God or others, being sorry isn’t, ultimately, about making ourselves seem pitiful enough or appearing pathetic enough to make the other person feel bad and let us off the hook.
Apologizing is about picking up our cross and embracing the hard work that comes with changing our behavior – not so that we can jump through some spiritual hoop but so that we can participate more effectively in the healing process that allows us to achieve our ultimate destiny: loving union with God.
By Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz, D.D. The American Catholic experience has been blessed far and wide from the outset by the sacrifice and dedication of religious women and men who arrived with their immigrant communities or came soon after to live and serve among them. At times, God had to raise up these dedicated servants from within to respond to the glaring needs of marginalized and persecuted populations in our country.
In our southern and western regions Sister Katherine Drexel, a native-born Philadelphian, (PA) and the sisters of the Blessed Sacrament come to mind who served Black and Indigenous Americans since their founding in 1891. Our own Sister Amelia Breton who serves as the coordinator of Intercultural Ministry, is a member of this religious community.
Cristiana Dell’Anna stars in a scene from the movie “Cabrini.” The OSV News classification is A-II — adults and adolescents. The Motion Picture Association rating is PG-13 — parents strongly cautioned. Some material may be inappropriate for children under 13. (OSV News photo/Angel Studios)
At the beginning of the 19th century Elizabeth Ann Seton founded the Sisters of Charity in 1809, the first American Religious Sisters congregation. She was deeply committed to education and is recognized as the foundress of Catholic school education in the United States. Members of her community came to Natchez in 1847 at the behest of Bishop John Joseph Chanche, S.S. to begin the legacy of Catholic education in our diocese. This religious community maintained a presence in Natchez until the early 2000s. Furthermore, God raised up our own Sister Thea Bowman from among the African American population in Canton to become a prophetic messenger of hope for Black Catholics and for all who are marginalized. Her cause for canonization is underway.
In theaters on March 8 across our nation, “Cabrini” is scheduled for release. It is the story of Frances Xavier Cabrini who founded the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus in Italy in the second half of the 19th century. The name of her community and her chosen middle name in honor of St. Francis Xavier, co-patron of the Missions, declare the purpose of her life and the charism of her community to bring the Gospel in its fulness to the nations. It is a compelling production, exceptional in its content and acting.
In one of the decisive scenes, Mother Cabrini and Pope Leo XIII are having tea and discussing possibilities. She is trying to convince him to give her order permission to venture east to China as she explains, “my mission is bigger than this world.” He calmly and clearly responds: “In that case it doesn’t matter where you begin.” He directed her to go west to New York to serve among the Italian immigrants who came in large numbers to the east coast between 1850 and 1910. The movie proceeds to realistically portray the harsh conditions for immigrants in the church and in society in the late 19th and early 20th century in New York.
On a personal note, it was around 1910 that my maternal grandparents who were from southern Italy passed through Ellis Island and began a new life with the clothes on their backs and a dream in their hearts. The movie is a gem that illustrates the plight, the vulnerability and determination of the immigrant population in ways that are true from one generation to the next. Against all odds Mother Cabrini succeeded in gaining a foothold in the shadow of the Statue of Liberty, and from there fulfilled her mission around the globe, a mission that was “bigger than this world.”
The movie never missed a beat in capturing her heroic virtue and perseverance. This story of religious life that passed from the margins of church and society to the mainstream of both, will be a catechetical and evangelizing tool for generations to come. Kudos to all who had a hand in its development and production.
Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz, D.D.
Moreover, the story of Mother Cabrini can challenge our Catholic communities and all people of good will to respond to the challenges, and at times crises, of immigration through the lens of the Gospel imperative to “welcome the stranger” and the ideals that are forever inscribed on the Statue of Liberty in the poem The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus. The following is from the second of two stanzas: “Give me your tired your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shores, send these the homeless, tempest tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
In our times, many religious are serving the immigrant population at our borders and in many corners of our nation. Often, they are as heroic as Mother Cabrini because some are pressuring to shut them down, and extremists are even advocating that they be shot. The current reality of immigration with its blessings and its burdens challenges us to go beyond the political posturing and invective that too often dominate the public narrative. In the time ahead we will add our voice to the public domain.
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)
