FROM THE HERMITAGE
By Sister alies therese

In the Texas death house, on Nov. 9. 2023, Brent Brewer uttered these last words, “tell the family of the victim I could never figure out the right words to fix what I have broken.” And with that he was executed and died, the seventh execution this year in Texas.

In this month of November, we celebrate the dead, Dia de los Muertos, those who have gone before us, but do we pay attention, however, to every day death-dealing … wars filling the globe, hunger, abortions for inconvenience, executions, euthanasia, or the dying of those in hospital or nursing homes, fading away, cast aside?

Scars are forever things; they ache. “I thought about what death is and what loss is – a sharp pain that lessens with time but can never quite heal. A scar.” So says Maya Lin, the Chinese American creator of the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, DC where thousands of names are beautifully inscribed to serve as reminders. Maybe we have not figured out the words or the policies that will fix what is broken? Maybe they are scars that never heal?

Recently the President told us he took his grandchildren, one at a time, when they turned 15, to Dachau in Germany to see the concentration camp and to hear his instruction: never again. Never again seems a lot like here we go again when we view the world and the savage massacres of men, women and children. Having visited Dachau myself I can tell you that the chills that ran up and down my spine will never be forgotten nor the ache when visiting a friend on death row.

November is about remembrance, yes … and rightly so. About love and about loss. It is also about service and protection. Indeed. Perhaps, however, it might also be a month of renewal? A new commitment to peace, a month where like the suffering servant in Isaiah all people across the world are not murdered for who they are … Black, Native American, Asian, Hispanic, Jew, Palestinian, gay, women?

Gary Cummins in If Only We Could See (Cascade, 2015) writes, “like the suffering servant, ‘the crucified people have no form, no comeliness, no beauty, (Is 53:2) since to the ugliness of daily poverty is added that of disfiguring bloodshed, the terror of tortures and mutilations….’ As Rauschenbusch says, ‘religiosity sharpens the steel edge of intolerance.’ As Pascal says, ‘people never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction.’”

What part of these are we ignoring?

Let’s use the rest of this month to discover what death and fear bring to the human spirit, to the soul. Of our many remembrances let’s honor those who told the truth, who did not lie to us; let’s honor those who struggled to help others, who went out of their way to sacrifice themselves, especially when it was unpopular. Consider your own scars received from abuse, or hatred, or hopelessness … and then ask the Good Jesus to wash your heart with His love so that you might not pass on any resentments or fears to others. In our tradition we remind one another that life has changed not ended and so does American teacher and writer Helen Coutant, in First Snow, who says: “At this moment, Lien thought she understood what dying meant. The drop of water had not really gone; it had only changed like the snowflake into something else.”

Let’s pray for a change of spirit, one of the beatitudes and especially draw to our hearts the tiny children who suffer so and if living with scars of anguish might just take that other path. May our prayer join those of St. Francis as Thomas Celano (St. Francis of Assisi, 1988) writes “The common view of Francis forgets that after his vision of Christ crucified, ‘he could never keep himself from weeping, even bewailing in a loud voice the passion of Christ. For this he allowed himself no consolation and filled his days with ‘sighs.’ “Let us weep as we work for justice, let us cry out to an awesome God who promises to hear us.
Blessings.

(Sister alies therese is a canonically vowed hermit with days formed around prayer and writing.)

By Gretchen R. Crowe

It’s been almost a year and a half since Corpus Christi Sunday 2022 — June 19 — the launch date of the ongoing National Eucharistic Revival.

At the time of the revival’s start, Bishop Andrew Cozzens of Crookston, who is leading the efforts, said the following: “It’s our mission to renew the church by enkindling in God’s people a living relationship with Our Lord Jesus Christ in the Holy Eucharist. We want everyone to encounter the love of Jesus Christ truly present in the Eucharist and to experience the life-changing effects of that love. We want to see a movement of Catholics across the United States that are healed, converted, formed and unified by an encounter with Jesus Christ in the Eucharist and sent out on mission for the life of the world.”

I’m not sure there’s a better mission than that. I’m also not sure there’s a bigger one. Following the timeline of the revival, we are currently in its second year — what is called a time for “fostering Eucharistic devotion at the parish level, strengthening our liturgical life through the faithful celebration of the Mass, Eucharistic adoration, missions, resources, preaching, and organic movements of the Holy Spirit.”

At my parish, we are having a 40 Hours Devotion at the start of Advent, where parishioners can come and spend time intimately with the Lord. I’d imagine most parishes around the country are doing something similar to foster devotion to Our Lord in the Eucharist.

Then, of course, in just eight short months, there will be the National Eucharistic Congress in Indianapolis. “Every movement needs a moment,” the website says. “This is ours.” A lot of time and money and planning is going into this national event, and it’s exciting. We’re going, and I hope you go, too.

But it’s also one event. What about the in-between times? What about the times when our parishes are not bringing in a speaker, or facilitating small group discussions, or coordinating special devotions? What about the times when we will not be gathered together by the thousands, being affirmed in our faith and encountering the Lord together? It’s in these in-between times that the habits of daily life are formed, and where virtue is born.

Four Eucharistic tips
This time of year offers us a prime opportunity for getting serious about our own personal revival in the Eucharist. With the start of Advent in a few weeks, we will begin preparations to welcome the Prince of Peace into our homes. Here are a few things we could do to draw closer to him in the Eucharist:

1) Make time for some spiritual reading on the Eucharist. In particular, sit and pray with the treasure that is St. John Paul II’s encyclical on the Eucharist, “Ecclesia de Eucharistia,” available from OSV for purchase or on the Vatican’s website for free. If you’ve never read it, or read it 100 times, there’s always more to glean from it, if we make the time.

2) Speaking of making time, any personal Eucharistic revival has to start with our own commitment of time spent in the presence of the Eucharist. Maybe we’re being called to attend daily Mass for Advent, or perhaps make a weekly holy hour. Or maybe you do both of those things, and the Lord is asking you to up the ante and make a daily holy hour! Pick something and commit to it.

3) Try really paying attention to the words of the Eucharistic prayer during Mass. I’ll be the first to admit, it can be easy or tempting to lose focus during this part of the liturgy. But try to really focus. Read along if it helps. Ask Jesus to quiet your mind and center your heart on him.

4) Once we learn more about Christ, spend more time with him, and seek to better understand his saving love for us in the Mass, the natural next step is to resolve to bring Christ to others. Perhaps there’s an opportunity to bring your kids to adoration – or your parents, a friend, or a sibling. Maybe, once you’ve read and enjoyed a book on the Eucharist, you could share it with others. Most importantly, we bring our Eucharistic Lord to the world through our love of and sacrifice for others.

We’re just about halfway through with the revival, which wraps up on Pentecost 2025. Let’s embrace the opportunity for renewal this Advent.

(Gretchen R. Crowe is the editor-in-chief of OSV News.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

There are different ways of being excluded in life.

Earlier this year, one of my older brothers died. By every indication he had lived an exemplary life, one lived mainly for others. He died much loved by everyone who knew him. His was a life lived for family, church, community, and friends.

Giving the homily at his funeral, I shared that, while he almost always brought a smile, a graciousness, and some wit to every situation, underneath he sometimes had to swallow hard to always do that. Why? Because, even though through his entire adult life he gave himself to serving others, for much of his life he didn’t have much choice in the matter. Here’s his story.

He was one of the older children in our family, a large second-generation immigrant family, struggling with poverty in an isolated rural area of the Canadian prairies where educational facilities weren’t easily available at that time. So, for him, as for many of his contemporaries, both men and women, the normal expectation was that after elementary school (an eighth-grade education) you were expected to end your school days and begin to work to support your family. Indeed, when he graduated from elementary school, there was no local high school for him to go to. Making this more unfortunate, he was perhaps the brightest, most gifted mind in our family. It’s not that he didn’t want to continue his formal education. But, he had to do what most others of his age did at that time, leave school and begin working, giving your entire salary over every month to support your family. He did this with good cheer, knowing this was expected of him.

Through the years, from age sixteen when he first entered the work force until he took over the family farm in his mid-thirties, he worked for farmers, worked in construction and did everything from operating a backhoe to driving a truck. Moreover, when our parents died and he took over our farm, there were a number of years when he was still pressured to use the farm to support the family. By the time he was finally freed of this responsibility, it was too late (not radically, but existentially) for him to restart his formal education. He lived out his final years before retirement as a farmer, though as one who found his energy elsewhere, in involvement in ongoing education and lay ministries programs where he thrived emotionally and intellectually. Part of his sacrifice too was that he never married, not because he was a temperamental bachelor, but because the same things that bound him to duty also, existentially, never afforded him the opportunity to marry.

After I shared his story at his funeral, I was approached by several people who said: That’s also my brother! That’s also my sister! That was my dad! That was my mother.

Having grown up where this was true of a number of my older siblings, today, whenever I see people working in service jobs such as cooking in cafeterias, cleaning houses, mowing lawns, working in construction, doing janitorial work and other work of this kind, I am often left to wonder, are they like my brother? Did they get to choose this work or are they doing it because of circumstances? Did this person want to be a doctor, or writer, a teacher, an entrepreneur, or a CEO of some company, and end up having to take this job because of an economic or other circumstance? Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing demeaning or less-than-noble in these jobs. Indeed, working with your hands is perhaps the most honest work of all – unlike my own work within the academic community where it can be easy to be self-serving and mostly irrelevant. There’s a wonderful dignity in working with your hands, as there was for my brother. However, the importance and dignity of that work notwithstanding, the happiness of the person doing it is sometimes predicated on whether or not he or she had a choice, that is, whether or not he or she is there by choice or because factors ranging from the economic situation of their family, to their immigrant status, to lack of opportunity, have forced them there.

As I walk past these folks in my day-to-day life and work, I try to notice them and appreciate the service they are rendering for the rest of us. And sometimes I say to myself: This could be my brother. This could be my sister. This could be the brightest mind of all who was not given the opportunity to become a doctor, a writer, nurse, a teacher or a social worker.

If in the next life, as Jesus promised, there’s to be a reversal where the last shall be first, I hope these people, like my brother, who were deprived of some of the opportunities that the rest of us enjoyed, will read my heart with an empathy that surpasses my understanding of them during their lifetime.

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

Reflections on Life
By Melvin Arrington

We all know what the commandment says: “You shall have no other gods before me.” (Exodus 20:3) The text goes on to state in a straightforward manner: “You shall not make for yourself an idol … You shall not bow down to them or worship them.” (verses 4a and 5a) Unfortunately, the Israelites did just that. They built altars to pagan idols and worshipped them rather than the one true God.

In our time we obviously don’t bow down to Baal or any of the other false gods mentioned in the Old Testament. Nevertheless, idolatry (worshipping some aspect of creation instead of the Creator) is pervasive in our contemporary culture. Our society considers practically everything more important than matters of faith. And anything we put before God becomes, in essence, an idol. Think about how our culture idolizes celebrities of all kinds. We put rock stars and sports heroes on a pedestal. The fact that we call certain movie actors matinee idols is especially telling.

What about family, friends, possessions, careers and leisure activities? Are we guilty at times of prioritizing any of these at the expense of Sunday worship? Instead of going to Mass, some choose to stay in bed a little longer on Sunday or perhaps play a round of golf or go to the lake. But because God is, in the words of St. Anselm, “that than which nothing greater can be thought,” we should always give Him precedence in our lives, especially on Sundays. In other words, we should make sure we get to Mass, and then we can do some of the other things, as long as we “keep the Sabbath day holy.” God wants first place in our lives. If we will make Him a priority, He will in turn supply our needs: “Strive first for the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” (Matthew 6:33)

When we pray the spiritual communion prayer, we say to Jesus: “I love you above all things.” Not some things, but all things. If I say I love God more than anything, I need to prove it; I need to live it. Others are watching, and the last thing I want to do is turn someone away from God and the church because they see that I’m not living out my faith.

Years ago, I met a man who belonged to a well-known civic organization that has clubs in practically every large city in the country. This man was heavily involved in the club’s service activities; it was his life. I know this because he told me one time that the club was his religion. Admirable as his commitment to service was, he clearly had his priorities mixed up.

Some people put flag and country first. It’s right and proper to love our country, but we should never privilege country over God. I belong to a local civic club (a different one from the club referred to above). Our meetings open with a prayer and the pledge of allegiance to the flag, in that order. But that wasn’t always the case. At one point, confusion arose among club members regarding how we should begin our meetings.

After some discussion, we finally resolved the issue by acknowledging that God is paramount. Prayer is always the first thing on our agenda. As is often the case, tradition helps us to get things right. As everyone knows, the phrase is “God and country,” not the other way around.

Daily scripture reading and prayer are other ways we can make the Lord preeminent in our lives. We offer up prayers of thanksgiving, praise, petition and intercession first thing in the morning, at various times during the day, including before meals and immediately before going to bed at night. Scripture study and prayer allow us to enter into intimate conversation with God. Do I sometimes forget one of my prayer times or fail to do the daily readings? Sure I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up my reading and prayer regimen altogether. The Christian life is a struggle in many ways, and one way this can manifest itself is in our study and prayer time.

If our modern society were to put things in their proper order, God, the source of all good things, would come first; others would be second, and we would place ourselves last. However, our culture usually gets that turned around. What we actually see is the self, the ego, first and foremost; and everything else far behind. Regrettably, the classic expression – looking out for number one – still holds sway. Advertising backs this up by encouraging consumers to pamper their ego, to “go for all the gusto.” So where does this leave God? It leaves Him out of the picture altogether.

How often do we put family, friends, sports and our own wishes before God? It’s difficult for me to reflect on this because I’ve been guilty of relegating God to second place or lower at various times in my life. But imagine what society would look like if we all gave God His rightful place. It would, in short, revolutionize our culture.

As in everything else in life, we have a choice. We must choose between the kingdom of God and the things this world has to offer. Choosing both is not an option because “no one can serve two masters.” (Matthew 6:24) As Christians, our desire should be to serve God first, always, and everywhere, because He is, was and always will be before all things. It’s His proper place.

Deuteronomy 6:4-5 contains the schema, the fundamental statement of the Jewish faith: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.” Practicing Jews still recite this passage twice a day. Jesus expands on these words by showing us how to apply them to our lives: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matthew 22:39)

Keeping the commandment “You shall have no other gods before me” requires that we love God with all of our being and that we put our faith into practice by transforming our selfishness into selflessness. In short, we show our love for God by our love for others. When we give God first place in our lives, we put others before ourselves. That’s the correct order.

(Melvin Arrington is a Professor Emeritus of Modern Languages for the University of Mississippi and a member of St. John Oxford.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

In a book, The Book of Hope, which he co-authored with Jane Goodall, Douglas Abrams makes this statement: Creating the human race may be the single biggest mistake evolution ever made.

He says this tongue-in-cheek since he recognizes that the emergence of the human race was clearly intended by the evolutionary process and that rather than being a colossal mistake it is the apex of the process. Nonetheless, today, the human race is a huge threat to planet earth. Simply put, there are now over seven billion people on the planet and already in many places we have used up nature’s limited resources faster than nature can replace them. By the year 2050 there will probably be 10 billion of us. If we carry on with business as usual, the planet simply cannot sustain us, at least if we continue in our present lifestyle.

And the lifestyle referred to here is not, first of all, the lavish lifestyle of the rich who can be reckless and consume more than their share of resources. They, of course, contribute to the problem and unduly influence the rest us in our own habits of consumption; but the lifestyle referred to here is what you and I, conscientious consumers, are living, even as we conserve, recycle, compost, drive electric cars and try to live simply.

I can take myself as an example. I’m trying to be sensitive to what my own consumption is doing to mother earth. By comparison to those who have a luxurious lifestyle, I can claim to live pretty simply. I don’t buy what I don’t need, have a very small wardrobe, and am cautious about the amount of electricity and water I use. I drive a second-hand compact car and try to drive it only when necessary. I help assure that the thermostat in our house is set so as to ensure the minimal use of electrical energy, and I live in a relatively small house, recycle and try to use as little plastic as possible.

But, on the other hand, I have two computers, a desktop in my office and a laptop at home. I have a cellphone which, through the years, has had to be updated four different times in terms of buying a new model and junking the old one. I shower daily and, depending upon physical work and exercise, sometimes take a second shower. I drive a car. I get on an airplane at least once a month for conferences and meetings and I fly internationally several times a year to visit family. I don’t have a lot of clothes, but my ministry and work require a certain standard of dress (which I meet minimally).

I think I can claim a simple lifestyle, given where I live and the work I do. However, realistically, if all seven (plus) billion people in the world lived as I do, there wouldn’t be enough resources to sustain us. Bottomline, the world cannot support eight billion people if everyone lives as I do, and as most of us do in the more affluent parts of our world. What’s the answer?

We can lay a guilt trip on ourselves and on others, though this isn’t necessarily helpful. What can be helpful? There’s no easy answer. Those of us living in the more affluent parts of our world can make changes, but can we simply stop using computers and mobile phones? We can conserve water, but can we abandon our present standards of hygiene? We can conserve electricity, but can we simply stop driving our cars and darken all our city buildings at night? We can be more scrupulous on how much we travel on airplanes, but can we live without airplane travel? We can cut back on what we buy in terms of excess food, excess clothing, and excess luxuries and entertainment. We can recycle, compost and not use plastic bags – and all of this, cumulatively, will make a difference. Indeed, all of this needs to be done. However, helpful though this is, it alone will not solve the problem.

For Jane Goodall, beyond these individual things, we need to do some collective things to solve the existential threat to this planet. Goodall names three: First, we must alleviate poverty. If there are people living in crippling poverty, it is understandable that they will cut down the last tree to grow food or catch the last fish because they are desperate to feed their families. Second, we must eliminate government corruption and corporate greed. Without good government and concern for the common good in business, it is impossible to solve our enormous social and environmental problems. Moreover, those who for their own benefit refuse to face the problem will go on unchallenged. Finally, collectively too, we must realistically face up to the tension between our lifestyle and the ever-growing population on this planet.
Thoughtless consumers are part of the problem – but so are the rest of us, me included, who fancy ourselves as living simply.

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