IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

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.

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.)

Guest Column
By Sister Hosea Rupprecht

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?

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.)

GUEST COLUMN
By Silvio Cuéllar
This February, we celebrate Valentine’s Day, the day of love and friendship. February 14 is also Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. At first glance, many will think that we will not be able to celebrate with our partners, but there are interesting parallels between true love as a couple and Lent. During Lent, we focus mainly on three important things: prayer, fasting and charity. Likewise, to have a successful and holy marriage, it is also required to have a prayer life with Christ at the center, make many sacrifices and be generous in giving ourselves to our family as Christ offered up himself for the church.

—Prayer—
Prayer is essential for a Catholic home and a couple’s relationship to last and bear much fruit. When we look at the lives of the saints, many were the fruit of their parents’ lives of prayer.
We have the example of St. Monica, mother of St. Augustine, who persevered in prayer for many years for the conversion of her son, who, despite having had a non-exemplary life, decided at one point to embrace the faith, becoming a doctor of the church.

My in-laws, Paul and Barbara, are examples of prayer, sacrifices and charity. I have always admired their great faith and commitment to serving others. They adopted a child from the foster care system and, over the years, helped many single mothers financially. From them, I learned what it means to live the faith, not just in the parish, but Monday through Sunday. I remember that, at every family gathering, they would begin with a family prayer. They always led by example and never missed going to church.

One suggestion during this Lent would be to take on (or pick back up) the practice of praying the rosary as a family, giving the children the opportunity to lead a decade. Let us remember that “The family that prays together, stays together.”

—Sacrifices—
For Catholics, Ash Wednesday and Good Friday are obligatory days of fasting and abstinence. Likewise, the Fridays of Lent are days of abstinence; on those days, we abstain from eating meat. That may not be a sacrifice for you so there are many other ways in which we can practice sacrifice and fasting. For example, we can fast by limiting or eliminating social media and technology use during the 40 days of Lent.

Sacrifice is also very important for a couple. Spouses should love and make sacrifices for each other as Christ sacrificed himself for the church. This concept goes against the modern culture of instant gratification, where the “I” comes first.

At the beginning of a marriage, we go through the honeymoon or infatuation stage, where everything is rose-colored. Then comes the maturity stage, where every day we make the decision to love the person God has placed in our lives. That implies making sacrifices for the sake of our partner and family, putting them ahead of our needs.

I remember recently, the night after a very exhausting weekend, I was very tired on my way to bed when I received a call from my son at 10:30 p.m. He was at the gym and had no way to get home. Even though my body was telling me to go to bed, without a moment’s hesitation, I answered, “I will be there in 15 minutes.” As parents, we may have countless examples of how we have sacrificed for our children, including our time and income.

Another important way to make sacrifices and an excellent investment is, for example, to enroll our children in a Catholic school, where they can receive an excellent education and formation in the faith. I sometimes joke that I could be driving a luxury car with what I pay for my daughter in high school. But the truth is that as parents we know that any material sacrifice is not enough to give the best to our children.

—Charity—
Finally, Lent is a time to practice charity more intensely.

Many of our parishes participate in Catholic Relief Services’ Rice Bowl campaign to support the efforts of the U.S. bishops’ international relief agency, which helps the world’s most disadvantaged with development programs and emergency assistance. Diocesan Service Appeal campaigns also help fund diocesan ministries and local relief. Let us be generous with these opportunities and offer our generosity in our parish community.

In married life, we can focus on giving more of our time this Lent, seeking to strengthen the relationship between spouses and with our children by being more present in their lives and activities.

We can also make time to reconnect with family members with whom we have not spoken for a long time, call them to reconcile, ask forgiveness if we have offended them, give them a word of support and offer to pray for them.

This Lent, let us seek to focus on habits of prayer, fasting and charity, using our resources, time, treasure and talents to volunteer in ministries that serve and help others.

(Silvio Cuéllar is a liturgical music composer and journalist. He is a former coordinator of the Hispanic Ministry and editor of El Católico de Rhode Island newspaper in the Diocese of Providence.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

A sound theology and a sound science will both recognize that the law of gravity and the Holy Spirit are one in the same principle. There isn’t a different spirit undergirding the physical than the spiritual. There’s one spirit that’s speaking through both the law of gravity and the Sermon on the Mount.

If we recognized that same Spirit is present in everything, in physical creation, in love, in beauty, in human creativity and in human morality; we could hold more things together in a fruitful tension rather than putting them in opposition and having the different gifts of the God’s Spirit fight each other. What does this mean?

We have too many unhealthy dichotomies in our lives. Too often we find ourselves choosing between things that should not be in opposition to each other and are in the unhappy position of having to pick between two things which are both, in themselves, good. We live in a world in which, too often, the spiritual is set against the physical, morality is set against creativity, wisdom is set against education, commitment is set against sex, conscience is set against pleasure, and personal fidelity is set against creative and professional success.

Obviously there’s something wrong here. If one force, God’s Spirit, is the single source that animates all these things then clearly we should not be in a position of having to choose between them. Ideally we should be choosing both because the one, same Spirit undergirds both.

Is this true? Is the Holy Spirit both the source of gravity and the source of love? Yes. At least if the Scriptures are to be believed. They tell us that the Holy Spirit is both a physical and a spiritual force, the source of all physicality and of all spirituality all at the same time.

We first meet the person of the Holy Spirit in the opening line of the Bible: In the beginning there was a formless void and the Spirit of God hovered over the chaos. In the early chapters of the Scriptures, the Holy Spirit is presented as a physical force, a wind that comes from the very mouth of God and not only shapes and orders physical creation but is also the energy that lies at the base of everything, animate and inanimate alike: Take away your breath, and everything returns to dust.

The ancients believed there was a soul in everything and that soul, God’s breath, held everything together and gave it meaning. They believed this even though they did not understand, as we do today, the workings of the infra-atomic world: how the tiniest particles and energy waves already possess erotic electrical charges, how hydrogen seeks out oxygen, and how at the most elemental level of physical reality energies are already attracting and repelling each other just as people do. They could not explain these things scientifically as we can, but they recognized, just as we do, that there is already some form of “love” inside all things, however inanimate. They attributed all of this to God’s breath, a wind that comes from God’s mouth and ultimately animates rocks, water, animals and human beings.

They understood that the same breath that animates and orders physical creation is also the source of all wisdom, harmony, peace, creativity, morality and fidelity. God’s breath was understood to be as moral as it is physical, as unifying as it is creative, and as wise as it is daring. For them, the breath of God was one force and it did not contradict itself. The physical and the spiritual world were not set against each other. One Spirit was understood to be the source of both.

We need to understand things in the same way. We need to let the Holy Spirit, in all its fullness, animate our lives. What this means concretely is that we must not let ourselves be energized and driven too much by one part of the Spirit to the detriment of other parts of that same Spirit.

Thus, there shouldn’t be creativity in the absence of morality, education in the absence of wisdom, sex in the absence of commitment, pleasure in the absence of conscience, and artistic or professional achievement in the absence of personal fidelity. Not least, there shouldn’t be a good life for some in the absence of justice for everyone. Conversely, however, we need to be suspicious of ourselves when we are moral but not creative, when our wisdom fears critical education, when our spirituality has a problem with pleasure, and when our personal fidelity is over-defensive in the face of art and achievement. One Spirit is the author of all of these. Hence, we must be equally sensitive to each of them.

Someone once quipped that a heresy is something that is nine-tenths true. That’s our problem with the Holy Spirit. We’re forever into partial truth when we don’t allow for a connection between the law of gravity and the Sermon on the Mount.

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a theologian, teacher and award-winning author. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com.)

On Ordinary Times
By Lucia A. Silecchia

Perhaps this is a luxury I can enjoy because I am not a pilot, a seafarer or a driver on winding country roads. For those such as these, the inability to see in the distance is not a welcome treat.

But, when I wake up in the morning, look out my seventh story window and see a milky dew fill the air, it brings a special peace. This peace lasts even when I leave home if the streets and sidewalks are still shrouded with early morning mist.

I think my fondness for fog comes in the way it hides all that lies in the distance and forces me to pay attention, willingly or not, only to those things that are close at hand.

Perhaps I appreciate this because, sometimes there is a wisdom to living life inspired by foggy mornings.
Typically, when someone describes feeling “in a fog” this is meant in the pejorative, as something to be avoided. Yet, there is also a beauty in taking time to gaze only on that which is nearby. So often, it is tempting to spend the day looking into the distance and into the future, rather than focusing on that which is up front and close by.

How often do we listen to someone across the table from us, while thinking about the texts we want to answer? How often do we hear someone speaking while we are busily planning ahead for how we will respond? How often do we greet small children by asking them what they want to be when they grow up rather than enjoying who they are? How often do we watch a play or listen to a concert while our minds wander to what the workday will hold the following morning?

How often do we gaze at the mountain in the distance without seeing the wildflowers that bloom next to us at the side of the road? How often do we pray for the “big” things in life, without seeking God’s sustenance in the daily bread of everyday life? How often do we spend our attention on the important things we plan to do someday, without noticing the little things we can do today? How often is it easier to appreciate the sights we seek a world away than it is to appreciate the highlights of our own hometowns?

I admire those who live with the grace to see the needs of the person before them, know the need to walk with God in the present moment, and do not fail to miss the opportunity to stretch out a hand to help today, not tomorrow.

When a fog rolls in, we have no choice but to live with the distance hidden for a time. Willingly or not, the beautiful and the frightening, the pleasant and the disturbing things that lie beyond are hidden. When those things lie beyond our line of sight, there is nothing to do except to focus on that which is nearby.
Yes, life cannot be lived entirely this way. Planning and keeping an eye to the future have their place and are important parts of responsible adulthood.

Nevertheless, I would still like to live with a lesson from a foggy morning. Sometimes, it is just as important to surrender the future and the far away. Sometimes, it is a gift to gaze only at the blessings and burdens close at hand. Sometimes, it is worth letting the fog roll in to our ordinary time.

(Lucia A. Silecchia is a Professor of Law and Associate Dean for Faculty Research at the Catholic University of America’s Columbus School of Law. Email her at silecchia@cua.edu.)

FOR THE JOURNEY
By Effie Caldarola

Walking through the park on a brisk winter morning, I glance at the parking lot near the playground and notice a colorful van.

I see big letters on its side panel: “Worry First.”

Wait a minute. I look again. Actually, it says “Worry Free,” the slogan of a utility company’s appliance service. I chuckle. I’ve proven something I know about myself all too well. I am a worrier, and I just let my eyes deceive me. Is that my slogan, I wonder, “worry first?”

We all worry. We worry about the future, about all the things that could go wrong. On the one hand, it’s good to be prepared, but worrying is a spiritual problem. A very human one, but a problem nonetheless.
In Wendell Berry’s poem, “The Peace of Wild Things,” he writes of waking in the night “in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be.” How many of us can identify with that?

Nighttime is the perfect incubator of worry.

Berry tells us that he goes into nature when these fears arise, and I believe he’s speaking metaphorically when he writes, “I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the heron feeds.”

His next line is one I have memorized: “I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.”

How much time do we waste taxing our lives with “forethought of grief?” Of all the species in this world, we humans are the only ones who worry about all the “what ifs.” The birds of the air make nests, and they carefully find a spot to protect their eggs from predators. But they are called to this, and they do it naturally and without worry. They live in each present moment.

Once a spiritual director was encouraging me to trust God more. She mentioned Jesus’ admonition (Mt 10:29-31), “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.”

I immediately mentioned the birds that would occasionally crash into my plate glass front window. Was God caring for them? My director smiled. They died without worry, she said. No forethought of grief burdened them.

Turning away from worry does not mean our lives will be without struggle, illness, frustration and certain death. Turning away from worry means that in the moment, in each precious and passing moment, we accept the presence of God with us through it all.

In Jesuit Father James Martin’s book, “Come Forth,” about Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, he talks about what some psychologists call “catastrophizing,” always focusing on the negative. He gives examples: “a bumpy airplane ride meant that we were crashing … a mildly critical remark from a friend meant that he hated me.”

This thinking the worst, expecting the worst or worrying about every possibility can dominate our lives.
“There’s a reason,” writes Martin, “that they call Satan ‘the Prince of Lies.’ If Satan can get you to focus on only the negatives, you are living a lie.”

Anxiety, another spiritual director told me, means a lack of trust. I was taken aback by this comment, because I know that some people are plagued by genuine anxiety for which they may need medical help.
But for the anxiety that taxes my life, the worry that exhorts payment in wasted time, wasted opportunities and lost sleep, I know that God is the answer. Making the choice in each present moment to not “worry first” is a step on the spiritual journey.

(Effie Caldarola is a wife, mom and grandmother who received her master’s degree in pastoral ministry from Seattle University.)