IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

There’s a saying attributed to Attila the Hun, a 5th century ruler infamous for his cruelty, which reads this way: For me to be happy, it’s not just important that I succeed; it’s also important that everyone else fails. I suspect that Atilla the Hun was not the author of that, but, no matter, there’s a lesson here.

The Gospels tell us that God’s mercy is unlimited and unconditional, that God has no favorites, that God is equally solicitous for everyone’s happiness and salvation, and that God does not ration his gift of the Spirit. If that is true, then we need to ask ourselves why we so frequently tend to withhold God’s Spirit from others in our judgments – particularly in our religious judgments. We are blind to the fact that sometimes there’s a little of Attila the Hun in us.

For example, how prone are we to think this way? For my religion to be the true, it’s important to me that other religions are not true! For my Christian denomination to be faithful to Christ, it’s important that all the other denominations be considered less faithful. For the Eucharist in my denomination to be valid, it’s important that the Eucharist in other denominations be invalid or less valid. And, since I’m living a certain sustained fidelity in my faith and moral life, it’s important to me that everyone else who isn’t living as faithfully does not get to heaven or is assigned to a secondary place in heaven.

Well, we aren’t the first disciples of Jesus to think this way and to be challenged by him in our Attila the Hun proclivities. This is in fact a large part of the lesson in Jesus’ parable regarding an over-generous landowner who paid everyone the same generous wage no matter how much or little each had worked.

We are all familiar with this story. A landowner goes out one morning and hires workers to work in his fields. He hires some early in the morning, some at noon, some in mid-afternoon, and some with only an hour left in the workday. Then he pays them all the same wage – a generous one. The people who worked the full day understandably became resentful, upset that (while their wage was in fact a generous one) they felt it was unfair to them that those who had worked a lot less should also receive an equally generous wage. The landowner in response says to the complainant, “Friend, I am not being unjust to you. Didn’t you agree to this wage? Why are you envious because I am generous?” (Matthew 20:1-16)
Notice that Jesus addresses the one making the complaint as ‘friend.” That’s a designation for us, we, the ones who are faithfully doing the full day’s work. Note his tone is warm and soft. However, his challenge is less warm and soft: Why are you jealous because God is overly generous? Why is it important to us that because we are doing things right, that God should be hard on those who aren’t?

Full disclosure: sometimes I imagine myself, after having lived a life of celibacy, entering heaven and meeting there the world’s most notorious playboy and asking God, “How did he get in here?” and God answering, “Friend, isn’t heaven a wonderful place! Are you envious because I am generous?” Who knows, we might even meet Attila the Hun there.

One of the core values held by a certain group of Quakers is something they call generous orthodoxy. I like the combination of those two words. Generosity speaks of openness, hospitality, empathy, wide tolerance and of sacrificing some of ourselves for others. Orthodoxy speaks of certain non-negotiable truths, of keeping proper boundaries, of staying true to what you believe and of not compromising truth for the sake of being nice. These two are often pitted against each other as opposites, but they are meant to be together. Holding ground on our truth, keeping proper boundaries and refusing to compromise even at the risk of not being nice is one side of the equation, but the full equation requires us to be also fully respectful and gracious regarding other people’s truth, cherished beliefs and boundaries.
And this is not an unhealthy syncretism, if what the other person holds as truth does not contradict what we hold – although it might be very different and may not in our judgment be nearly as full and rich as what we hold.

Hence, you can be a Christian, convinced that Christianity is the truest expression of religion in the world without making the judgment that other religions are false. You can be a Roman Catholic, convinced that Roman Catholicism is the truest and fullest expression of Christianity, and your Eucharist is the real presence of Jesus, without making the judgment that other Christian denominations are not valid expressions of Christ and do not have a valid Eucharist. There’s no contradiction there.
You can be right, without that being contingent on everyone else being wrong!

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

FROM THE HERMITAGE
By sister alies therese

On earth day I planted one seed, a giant sunflower sent to me by a friend in California. If it sprouts and is nourished it might grow to 15’14” across. Oh my. That’s a lot for one seed. While thinking about this one seed (and she sent me seven) I recalled the wonders God has done and was drawn to Psalm 104 where we encounter God as provider and creator.

In this springtime some of our readers are suffering perhaps from illness or accident, aging or loneliness. You might be reading from a prison or a nursing home, from your den or garden. What I learned from this Psalm is how rich and bountiful our God is and no matter where I make this meditation, (34) I can sing (33) praise to God. This is a seed of hope.

What is the one seed you will plant today? Is it an actual seed like mine, or will it be a seed of happiness or healing? Will it be a seed of thanksgiving or peace, or gratitude or friendship? See each day as the opportunity to plant one seed. Maybe it will be a phone call, or kindness to a visitor, or writing an email to someone who is sick. One seed can change things greatly. This God knows and shows God’s graciousness to us. Our favorite ‘one seed’ is Jesus. One seed planted and grown and rescued from permanent danger by being raised from the dead. Not all seeds seem to flourish like Jesus … they pop up and then whither. I do not want to wither, and Psalm 104 shows me how God, our provider wishes the same.

We remember the story about the seeds on the path, the seeds in the thorns, the seeds on rich soil. Maybe only one seed prospered … the rich soil made it possible. The birds and creeping things each come from one seed. Out of all the reproductive possibilities, one seed is available, one seed blossoms, one seed provides nourishment. And what did Jesus say that seed was? The Word of God. Are you reading your Bible? Are you finding new ways to grow in God? Are you praying in thanksgiving for the treasures of God?

In this Psalm, I am happy to read about all of creation and also about how I can respond. I can rejoice, sing and mediate and my love for God is deepened, and I increase my wonder and awe of all that God created. I can also be alert to the ways human beings are not generous with the creation of God.
Russell Baker, a US journalist who remarked in an article in the New York Times on Feb. 22, 1968, “We live in an environment whose principal product is garbage.” I dare say we have not become more responsible in all these years. Rachel Carson, environmentalist, and writer, in her work Silent Spring, noted: “For the first time in the history of the world, every human being is now subjected to contact with dangerous chemicals, from the moment of conception until death.”

What is this garbage besides the obvious plastic? Well, when it is a seed of resentment or anger, hatred or regret the ‘garbage’ in our souls grows. When our focus is on the things of this world that keep us from God, chemicals surround us … dangerous and contaminating. What breaks the cycle of negativity? What causes us to be transformed into peacemakers and children of such a gracious Father? Well, plant the seeds, even if only one of charity within and all the others will fall into place. Consider St. James 1:21ff, who sets the seeds of welcome and meekness against those of sordidness and wickedness. They are like smog in the throat keeping one from singing.

“ ‘Once-ler!’ He cried with a cruffulous croak.

‘Once-ler! You’re making such smogulous smoke! My poor Swomee-Swams…why they can’t sing a note! No one can sing who has smog in his throat.” (Dr. Seuss, The Lorax).

That includes the smog in our hearts. Plant something today that will bring joy and healing to hearts and minds. It could be green things that drive out the smog and invite us into the refreshment of God.
Blessings.

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

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

This year, Mother’s Day falls on Sunday, May 14, just one day after the Feast of Our Lady of Fatima. Together, these two days make up a special weekend in this month already dedicated to our Blessed Mother. It is fitting that our celebrations of motherhood and Mary coincide because she is the guardian of mothers in this world. Mary is the model for motherhood in both joy and sorrow, and she shows the way of mercy at all times.

The story of Mary standing at the foot of the cross resonates with mothers in their deepest moments of suffering. When Jesus said to Mary, “Woman, behold, your son!” He was entrusting her to the care of John. He followed that by saying to John, “Behold, your mother!” So, He was entrusting John to her care as well, and by extension, He was entrusting us all to Mary’s care.

The numerous and well-documented Marian apparitions that have occurred over the years confirm Mary’s role as mother to us all and her profound connection to God. Credible Marian apparitions have occurred in many cultures at important moments in history, and the apparitions at Fatima remain among the most astounding.

Mary’s final apparition at Fatima made international news, and it was reported that somewhere between 30,000 and 100,000 people made pilgrimages to the Cova da Iria, a field where Lucia dos Santos and her cousins Francisco and Jacinta Marto pastured their families’ sheep. There, the pilgrims witnessed Mary’s promised sign as the sun broke through dark rain clouds and defied the laws of physics, dancing in the sky and, at one point, appearing to fall to earth before finally returning to its normal position, leaving the ground the people were standing on and their previously wet clothes completely dry.

In her appearances to Lucia, Francesco and Jacinta, Mary asked for prayers, reparations and devotion to her Immaculate Heart, and she made statements about war and peace that proved prophetic throughout the 20th century. At every turn, her intervention at Fatima was marked by a profound care for humanity and the hope that we would follow Christ and discover the Mercy of God.

Mary’s role as the mother of Jesus is the lens through which to understand why she is such a powerful intercessor for us. Consider the story of the Wedding at Cana, when Jesus turned water into wine at His mother’s request. Midway through the gathering, she said to Him, “They have no wine,” and Jesus answered, “O woman, what have you to do with me? My hour has not yet come.” At this point, Mary turned to the servants and said, “Do whatever He tells you.”

What amazing confidence Mary had that Jesus would do as she asked even after He expressed displeasure at the request. This is the type of confidence we should have in asking for Mary’s intercession because she will always bring our needs to the foot of the Cross where all good things have been made possible in Christ.

In His actions at the Wedding at Cana, Jesus demonstrates the tremendous loyalty and respect we all owe to our mothers, who walk in the footsteps of Mary in the countless selfless acts they perform on our behalf. We should turn to the intercession of Mary to ask Christ to bless us with the same devotion to our mothers that He showed to His, so we can honor them this Mother’s Day and throughout our lives.

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

GUEST COLUMN
By Sister Alicia Torres

I love dogs. Not like I love my family, or like I love Jesus, but I really do have a strong affection for dogs.

A few months ago, I came home from teaching and was welcomed by an unfamiliar, and rather unpleasant, smell in the convent. Entering our large dining room, I noticed the puppy crate had been set up, and indeed was being used! Little Charlie was about 5 months old and it was love at first sight. Although he really did stink.

Earlier that morning, my religious community was serving over 400 families at our weekly food pantry when – seemingly out of nowhere – Charlie had shown up – soaking wet, muddy and full of friendly energy. Sister Kate noticed that this rather large Siberian Husky puppy was causing distress among our pantry guests and quickly put him on a leash.

When I met him some hours later, Charlie had already been given the first of several (very necessary) baths and was making himself at home. He was all cuddles and kisses. Everyone was his friend, and he made sure you knew you were loved.

Through the neighborhood grapevine we learned that Charlie had been abandoned by his owners. Caring for man’s best friend is not easy: It takes time, attention and resources. The people who had originally owned Charlies must have thought, “Surely the nuns will take care of him.” And we did.

But could we become his forever home?

In religious life (and really all Christian life), a great virtue to cultivate is detachment.
Unfortunately for me, that virtue wasn’t kicking in (nor was I really attempting to foster it) when it came to Charlie. All I wanted was to keep him. But with three German Shepherds, our little Franciscan community already had our hands full, and for all of his positive character traits, there was not one drop of guard dog in Charlie. At the time we had a small renovation project going on in the convent, and not one “stranger” (construction worker) who entered was bereft of a kiss from him.

Six days after he came to us, we were able to locate a proper Husky rescue, and a few weeks after that, we received the good news that Charlie had been adopted – he had found his forever home.

If you and I are honest, we really are looking for the same thing as Charlie, aren’t we? Don’t we have a deep, innate desire for home? And no matter how good it can get this side of heaven, that desire is just never fully satisfied.

During my theology classes, I was blessed to befriend Father Tom Norris, an Irish theologian and a visiting professor to Mundelein Seminary. He had a way of teaching – and storytelling – that could leave one not only stunned but speechless and immobile – as if he could open a wellspring of grace, and you couldn’t help but let yourself be lovingly soaked in the glory. One day, as he was describing the paschal mystery he stated: “Good Friday is when the ‘homeland’ enters exile so that the exiles may enter the ‘homeland.’”

I was totally blown away; I began to realize in a new way that the paschal mystery wasn’t just something that happened 2,000 years ago.

What happened on Good Friday and what was victoriously completed in the resurrection and ascension of Jesus is represented for us in the Eucharist at every Mass. In those moments of consecration – so timeless – we are invited with the priest to truly pray the Mass. In doing so, we enter into something that is real, and truer than anything this side of heaven.

Charlie had to roam for a few months before he found “homeland,” but you and I don’t ever have to wait that long. The forever home we long for begins right here, right now, in every Eucharist.

(Sister Alicia Torres is an executive team member for the National Eucharistic Revival, editor of the Heart of the Revival e-newsletter, and a member of the Franciscans of the Eucharist of Chicago, a religious community that carries out the mission of the church through service to the poor, evangelization and teaching.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

After Jesus rose from the dead, his first appearances were to women. Why? One obvious reason might be that it was women who followed him to his death on Good Friday, while the men largely abandoned him. As well, it was women, not men, who set off for his tomb on Easter morning, hoping to anoint his dead body with spices – so it was women who were in the garden when he first appeared. But there is, I believe, a deeper and more symbolic reason. Women are the midwives. It is generally women who attend to new birth and women who are more paramount in initially nurturing new life in its infancy.

In any birth a midwife can be helpful. When a baby is born, normally the head pushes its way through the birth canal first, opening the way for the body to follow. A good midwife can be very helpful at this time, helping to ease that passage through the birth canal, helping ensure that the baby begins to breathe, and helping the mother to immediately begin to nurture that new life. A midwife can sometimes mean the difference between life and death, and she always makes the birth easier and healthier.

Jesus’ resurrection birthed new life into our world, and in its infancy that life had to be specially midwifed, both in its emergence and in the initial breaths it took in this world. The resurrection birthed many things, and these had to be midwifed; initially by the women to whom Jesus first appeared, then by the apostles who left us their eyewitness accounts of the risen Jesus, then by the early church, then by its martyrs, then by the lived faith of countless women and men through the centuries, and sometimes too by theologians and spiritual writers. We still need to midwife what was born in the resurrection.

And many things were born in that event – an event as radical as the original creation in what it gave birth to. The resurrection of Jesus was the “first day” a second time, the second time light separated from darkness. Indeed, the world measures time by the resurrection. We are in the year 2023 since it happened. (Christianity was born with that event. New time began then. But scholars calculated that Jesus was thirty-three years old when he died and so they added thirty-three years so as to begin new time with the date of his birth.)

Prominent within what the resurrection gives birth to and what needs still to be midwifed, is hope. The resurrection gives birth to hope. The women in the Gospels who first met the resurrected Jesus were the first to be given a true reason for hope and were the first to act as midwifes of that new birth. So too must we. We need to become midwives of hope. But what is hope and how is it given birth in the resurrection?

Genuine hope is never to be confused with either wishful thinking or temperamental optimism. Unlike hope, wishful thinking isn’t based on anything. It’s pure wishing. Optimism, for its part, takes its root either in a natural temperament (“I always see the bright side of things”) or on how good or bad the evening news looks on a given day. And we know how that can change from day to day. Hope has a different basis.

Here’s an example: Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, a deeply faith-filled scientist, was once challenged by an agnostic colleague after making a presentation within which he tried to show how the story of salvation history fits perfectly with the insights of science regarding the origins of the universe and the process of evolution. Teilhard went on to suggest, in line with Ephesians 1:3-10, that the end of the whole evolutionary process will be the union of all things in one great final harmony in Christ. An agnostic colleague challenged him to this effect: That’s a wonderfully optimistic little schema you propose. But suppose we blow up the world with an atomic bomb. What happens to your optimist schema then? Teilhard answered in words to this effect: If we blow up the world with an atomic bomb, that will be a set-back, perhaps for millions of years. But what I propose is going to happen, not because I wish it or because I am optimistic that it will happen. It will happen because God promised it – and in the resurrection God showed that God has the power to deliver on that promise.

What the women who first met the risen Jesus experienced was hope, the kind of hope that is based on God’s promise to vindicate good over evil and life over death, no matter the circumstance, no matter the obstacle, no matter how awful the news might look on a given day, no matter death itself, and no matter whether we are optimistic or pessimistic. They were the initial midwives helping to give birth to that hope. That task is now ours.

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