Kneading Faith
By Fran Lavelle

Prior to moving to Mississippi in 1999 to serve as the campus minister at Mississippi State, I was a lay missioner with the Glenmary Sisters, headquartered in Owensboro, Kentucky. I was missioned in Providence, Kentucky from 1996-1999.

I recently found out that one of the Glenmary Sisters, Sister Kathleen Mulchrone passed away. She was born in Ireland but came to the States in the 1950s. She served in active ministry as a Glenmary Sister for 61 years and retired in 2019. She was in her 90s.

I was reflecting on my time in Kentucky and in particular the influence Sister Kathleen had on my ministry and my life. During my orientation one of the things the sisters underscored repeatedly was the importance of the ministry of presence. That is that no matter where you are or what you are doing you are called to be present to the people surrounding you and environment you are in. A good Glenmarian always came back from the post office with more than mail. Not only would they be present to the people who were in the post office, but they would pick up the news of the day from postal workers as well. This is especially effective in rural communities. More often than not they would hear of someone in the community who was sick, or someone who lost their job, and good news like the birth of a baby or engagement. The post office is not the only place where a ministry of presence can happen. It happens anywhere and everywhere. It is an intentional disposition. It is the art of listening and hearing what is happening to the people around you. Sister Kathleen was masterful at the ministry of presence.

I remember my days in youth ministry, the most challenging but privileged time during our time together was at the end of the night when the kids voiced their prayer petitions. One can learn a lot about what’s going on in the lives of the people around them when they are present and listen. In his 2016 book, The Name of God Is Mercy, Pope Francis opines, “People are looking for someone to listen to them. Someone willing to grant them time, to listen to their dramas and difficulties. This is what I call the ‘apostolate of the ear,’ and it is important.” What we vocalize in prayer speaks of our hopes and dreams and also our grief and worries.

Listening and presence are greatly missing in the public forum today. More often than not people listen to respond or do not listen at all. We all can recall a time when someone was speaking to us and the whole time, we were having our own conversation in our head about what we needed from the grocery store. In the church, especially today, a lack of intentional listening and presence is deadly. People, especially young people want to be seen, valued and heard. For Jesus, intentional listening and a ministry of presence sum up the whole praxis of accompaniment. We have all heard the saying, “Meet people where they are.” It can be a bit slogan-ish, but in practice is the very place where meaningful ministry begins. How can we help people grow in their faith if we do not understand where they are with their faith?

Amelia Rizor is the coordinator for the Office of Young Adults and Campus Ministry for the diocese. She has put together two men’s basketball teams for a Jackson area young adult basketball league. On the occasion of the two Catholic teams competing against one another Amelia invited Bishop Kopacz and I to attend the game with her. We did. It was loads of fun. But, perhaps the most impactful part of the evening was at the end of the game a player on another team recognized Bishop Kopacz and spoke to him. In that brief encounter he told us that he was not Catholic but had been to Mass on several occasions. He also said that he has been thinking about becoming Catholic. That brief exchange was an example of the ministry of presence and why it’s so important. We cannot be present to others if we remain behind our desks or on our phones. We cannot share the apostolate of the ear if we are not in places where people need to be heard.

This Easter season I encourage you to slow your pace and look around you for opportunities to exercise the ministry of presence and the apostolate of the ear. Take in a local sporting event or go out for coffee after Mass. In listening to the needs of others, you just might discover something about yourself.

(Fran Lavelle is the Director of Faith Formation for the Diocese of Jackson.)

LIGHT ONE CANDLE
By Father Ed Dougherty, M.M., The Christophers’ board of directors

Have you ever wondered what it was like for the Apostles and followers of Christ during the period of time we now call Eastertide, which begins with the Resurrection and concludes with Pentecost? First, they were struck by the most astounding event in human history in discovering that Christ had risen from the dead. It must have been such an extremely jubilant time, yet they were also left with the traumatizing memory of the Crucifixion and the fear of what might be done to them as news of the Resurrection spread and panic set in among those who wanted that news silenced.

Amid this mix of jubilation and fear was a lingering question about what they should do, and that question would not be fully answered until Pentecost, when they were commissioned by God to evangelize the world. The roller coaster of emotions the Apostles and followers of Christ must have experienced during that time is probably something most of us can relate to as we attempt to walk in their footsteps today.

One of the most beautiful moments that occurred after the Resurrection was when Jesus appeared to the Apostles on a beach at the Sea of Galilee. The scene points to answers for questions we all have amid our own mix of emotions over the triumphs, failures, and fears that life throws our way. The Apostles had been fishing all night and caught nothing until daybreak, when a man called to them from the beach telling them to cast their net to the other side of the boat, at which point they caught so many fish they couldn’t haul it all in. Upon realizing the man on the beach was Jesus, Peter jumped out of the boat to hurry towards Him.

Imagine the emotions Peter must have had rushing out of the water towards Christ on that beach. It must have been a bittersweet moment of joy mixed with the sorrow he probably still carried over his three denials before the Crucifixion. Later, walking along the beach together, Christ asks Peter three times, “Do you love me?” Each time, Peter answers that he does, until finally saying the third time, “Lord, You know everything; You know that I love You.”

We’re told that Peter felt hurt to be asked a third time, and maybe that was partly because it reminded him of his previous denials. But it seems Jesus was also providing him with an opportunity to understand the Redemption. Perhaps this was even Jesus’ way of emphasizing for Peter that He knows he loves Him despite those previous denials because He gives him the chance to answer “yes” three times, almost as though to wash away the mistakes of the past. That conversation must have lingered with Peter as a stark reminder of the love of God and the confidence we must have that opportunities will always be provided for redemption.

This then is the ultimate message of the Resurrection, that we are redeemed every time we run to Christ with a spirit of reconciliation and hope in sharing His joy. This also answers the commission the Apostles were awaiting and received at Pentecost and that we have inherited as followers of Christ. We must constantly be at work healing the wounds of others through a spirit of forgiveness and reconciliation, providing opportunities wherever we can to open hearts to the transformative power of God’s love and having confidence those opportunities will always find us.

(For a free copy of The Christophers’ LIFT UP YOUR HEARTS, e-mail: mail@christophers.org)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

The night before he died, Jesus struggled mightily to accept his Father’s will. The Gospels describe him in the Garden of Gethsemane, prostrate on the ground, “sweating blood,” and begging his Father to save him from the brutal death that awaited him. Then, after he finally surrenders his will to his Father, an angel comes and strengthens him.

This begs a question: where was the angel when, seemingly, he most needed it? Why didn’t the angel come earlier to strengthen him?

Two stories, I believe, can be helpful in answering this.

The first comes from Martin Luther King, Jr. In the days leading up to his assassination, he met angry resistance and began to receive death threats. He was courageous, but he was also human. At a point, those threats got to him. Here is one of his diary entries.

“One night towards the end of January, I settled into bed late, after a strenuous day. Coretta had already fallen asleep and just as I was about to doze off the telephone rang. An angry voice said, ‘Listen, nig.., we’ve taken all we want from you; before next week you’ll be sorry you ever came to Montgomery.’ I hung up, but I couldn’t sleep. It seemed that all of my fears had come down on me at once. I had reached a saturation point.

“I got out of bed and began to walk the floor. Finally, I went to the kitchen and heated a pot of coffee. I was ready to give up. With my cup of coffee sitting untouched before me, I tried to think of a way to move out of the picture without appearing a coward.

“In this state of exhaustion, when my courage had all but gone, I decided to take my problem to God. With my head in my hands, I bowed over the kitchen table and prayed aloud. The words I spoke to God that midnight are still vivid in my memory.

“‘I am here taking a stand for what I believe is right. Now I am afraid. The people are looking to me for leadership, and if I stand before them without strength and courage, they too will falter. I am at the end of my powers. I have nothing left. I’ve come to the point where I can’t face it alone.’ At that moment I experienced the presence of the Divine as I had never experienced Him before.” (Strive Toward Freedom)

Notice at what point in his struggle the angel appears.

In her autobiography, The Long Loneliness, Dorothy shares this story. As a young woman, along with the man she loved, she had been somewhat militant in her unbelief. Indeed, their reluctance to enter the institution of marriage was meant as a statement of their non-acceptance of traditional Christian values. Then she conceived a child and its birth was the beginning of a radical conversion for her. The joy she felt holding her baby convinced her that there was a God and that life had a loving purpose. She became a Roman Catholic, much to the chagrin of the man she loved, the father of her child: he gave her an ultimatum: if you have this child baptized, our relationship is ended. She had the child baptized and lost that relationship (though they continued as friends). However, she now found herself a single mother with no job and no real vision or plan as to where to go now in life.

At one point, she became desperate. She left the child in the care of others and took a train from New York City to the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C. In her autobiography, she describes how she prayed that day, how desperate her prayer was. Like Jesus in Gethsemane and Martin Luther King in Montgomery, her prayer was one of raw need and helplessness, of an admission that she no longer had the strength to go on. Essentially, she said this to God: I have given up everything for you and now I am alone and afraid. I don’t know what to do and am lacking strength to carry on in this commitment.

She prayed this prayer of helplessness, took the train back to New York, and not long after found Peter Maurin sitting on her doorstep, telling her that he had heard about her and that he had a vision of what she should now do, namely, to start the Catholic Worker. That set the path for the rest of her life. The angel had come and strengthened her.

Notice at what point in these stories the angel makes its appearance – when human strength is fully exhausted. Why not earlier? Because up to the point of exhaustion, we don’t really let the angel in, relying instead on our own strength. But, as Trevor Herriot says, “Only after we have let the desert do its full work in us will angels finally come and minister to us.”

(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

Every year, when I flip my calendar to December, thoughts of Christmas overwhelm me with anticipation of the joys to come and the great gift of Christ’s Nativity.

Yet, when I open that same calendar to the month of March, my initial thought has never been, “The Solemnity of the Annunciation is on March 25!” There are no cards or gifts, and merely a handful of hymns dedicated to this occasion. It is not celebrated as a Holy Day of Obligation, nor is it marked with much festivity outside the celebration of regularly scheduled weekday Masses.

Perhaps this is because this solemnity often falls in the heart of Lent’s penitential season. Perhaps, too often, it falls in the shadows between the sorrow of the passion and the glory of the Resurrection.
Lately, though, I have asked myself why I do not give the Solemnity of the Annunciation its due – and resolve that it will be different this year.

March 25 was chosen for this celebration precisely because it falls exactly nine months prior to the birth of Christ. If I truly believe all that the church teaches about the sacred dignity of life in the womb, then I should celebrate the Annunciation with the same reverence, joy and gratitude that I celebrate the Nativity.
I rejoice in December when the angels sung in Bethlehem, giving glory to the newborn King. I should also rejoice in March when an angel announced in Nazareth, “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you. … You will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus.” (Luke 1:26-38)

I am amazed that Christ humbled Himself to be the tiny infant we welcome at Christmas. I should also be amazed that, nine months before that, He humbled Himself to enter the world far smaller and hidden away.

It is easy to celebrate what the eye can see. Hence, we celebrate our own birthdays and those of our loved ones and we count our years from that day forward. Yet, we know that all of us had remarkable hidden lives for months before that day we were delivered into the world. So, too, did Christ.

There is no Advent calendar counting down the days to the Annunciation. There are no grand celebrations and family gatherings ahead to mark this day. But perhaps, absent the distractions of Christmas, the Solemnity of the Annunciation is a particularly sacred time to contemplate the true wonder of God’s incarnation. Perhaps, in the midst of the Lenten season, this is an occasion to contemplate not only the wonder that Christ came to earth – but why He did. Perhaps in honor of Mary of Nazareth and her great “Yes,” this occasion can inspire our parishes and families to offer spiritual and material support for all those women who carry the sacred gift of life within them.

I hope that the Solemnity of the Annunciation holds many blessings for all who take time to contemplate that instant when Christ began His human life, starting His journey at the very beginning. I hope that parishes named for this solemnity enjoy their Feast Day in a special way. I hope that greater reverence for life in the womb fills our hearts as we mark this great day. And, for myself, I hope for fuller appreciation for the great gift of divine love that brought Christ to earth to share in our ordinary time.

(Lucia A. Silecchia is a Professor of Law and Associate Dean for Faculty Research at the Catholic University of America. “On Ordinary Times” is a biweekly column reflecting on the ways to find the sacred in the simple. Email her at silecchia@cua.edu.)

FOR THE JOURNEY
By Effie Caldarola

Somewhere in Nicaragua, a Catholic bishop languishes in prison because of his outspoken opposition to the policies of an unjust government.

Bishop Rolando Álvarez, a handsome and youthful 56-year-old, has been accused of “treason” and “undermining national integrity” by the Ortega regime. Earlier, 222 political prisoners, including priests, were released to the United States. Bishop Álvarez was among them at the airport.

But according to a National Public Radio opinion piece by Scott Simon, the bishop “stopped at the aircraft stairs.”

In “A Bishop of Immense Courage,” Scott recorded Bishop Álvarez’s words: “Let the others be free. I will endure their punishment.”

For someone like me, who generally acknowledges being a chicken, this is breathtaking bravery.
But some of the people I admire most are the ones who simply remain faithful, who hear some call perhaps only they can hear. Even the journalist Simon seemed a bit puzzled by why Álvarez would not get on that airplane.

In 1980, four women, Maryknoll Sisters Ita Ford and Maureen Clarke, Ursuline Sister Dorothy Kazel, and laywoman Jean Donovan were brutally slain by the military in the midst of a civil war in El Salvador. They didn’t have to be there.

Father Frans van der Lugt, a Dutch Jesuit, spent 50 years of ministry in Syria. But when the Syrian government, aided by Russia, began a vicious war against rebel forces, he had every opportunity to leave. Instead, he was the last European left inside the Old City of Homs as fighting destroyed it. Speaking fluent Arabic, he served as a spokesperson for those caught in the destruction.

Then someone came for him, and he was shot in the head in the garden of his residence.

Our Catholic tradition has a long line of martyrs, those who won’t leave even when the average person would be on the next plane. And it always has something to do with fidelity to the poor, that preferential option for the poor at the heart of our faith.

So here’s one more. Father Stanley Rother (now Blessed Stanley Rother) was a farm boy from Okarche, Oklahoma. He was accepted to the seminary, but was sent home because he couldn’t handle the academics, especially Greek and Latin.

Fortunately, his bishop gave him another chance in another seminary and he was ordained for the Archdiocese of Oklahoma City. This country priest volunteered for a missionary assignment in Guatemala. Again, war. As always, hardest on the poor, whom Rother served in a remote village. Where, we add with a nod to his first seminary, he easily learned the Mayan dialect. Knowing he was on a death list, he returned to the U.S. But something called him back to the village. Like Frans van der Lugt, he eventually heard the knock at the door and was killed. (For a compelling biography of Blessed Stanley Rother, read Maria Ruiz Scaperlanda’s “The Shepherd Who Didn’t Run.”)

I can think of many rationalizations for why they could leave. Álvarez could speak publicly and educate us about the issues facing Nicaragua. Frans van der Lugt was 75 when he was shot – surely he deserved to die in his own bed?

But it’s Lent. So, we cast our eyes to Jesus, and watch him set his face toward Jerusalem. He knew what lay in store for him there. His disciples were confused; Peter remonstrated with him.

But Jesus had the kind of integrity that propelled him to answer a call he could have escaped.

Let’s pray to know Jesus and ask him how he wishes to send us. And let’s pray for Bishop Álvarez.

(Effie Caldarola writes for the Catholic News Service.)

Stewardship Paths
By Julia Williams

JACKSON – Lent is designed to be a time for sacrifice and self-denial, the point of which is to deepen one’s relationship with God and strengthen habits of self-control.

What you ‘give up’ you can ‘offer up’ as a prayer, united with Christ’s sacrifice of the Cross. Fasting is a powerful way to make an impact on the world with your daily prayers, which is why I think giving up pizza is a cop-out.

Is that harsh? Maybe. But I think Lent ought to be.

Unless you eat pizza every day, twice a day, you’re only going to be sacrificing it a few times a week, max! That means your powerful prayers for our broken world are diluted to two, maybe four incidences in seven days instead of the many more opportunities you could have had.

When someone gives up eating between meals, or the sweets they eat 3-4 times a day, they are tempted many times throughout the day to ‘give up’ and ‘give in.’ Then, at each temptation, they’re presented with an opportunity for prayer, for ‘offering up’ their sacrifice with Christ. When you’re hungry all the time, do what St. Paul says in 1 Thessalonians: “Pray constantly.”

Giving up something small or insignificant, like pizza or your weekly trip to the coffee shop, strikes me like Jesus getting all the way to the Cross and saying, “Nah, maybe next week. I’ve done enough today.”
When you love someone, you want to see them all the time. If you’re not with them, you’re thinking about them. You can’t wait to set things aside to spend time with them.

Isn’t your love for Jesus worth setting a few things aside? If you’re going to tell the Lord, who died for your sins, that you only want to pray and sacrifice for Him once or twice a week, I wonder if it would be better not to sacrifice at all. Prayer needs to be daily, or better yet constantly. Fasting is an amazing gift that Jesus taught us to allow us to grow closer to Him.

That’s why I’d never give up pizza for Lent. It’s far too seldom and is too easy to follow the letter of the law and order a calzone instead.

This Lent, think about how you can really challenge yourself with fasting. Fasting is prayer … and prayer is the Stewardship Way of Life.

Excerpts: catholicmom.com/Katie Kimball