Integridad de Nuestros Héroes Católicos Modernos

Para el Viaje
Por Effie Caldarola, OSV Noticias

En algún lugar de Nicaragua, un obispo católico languidece en prisión por su abierta oposición a las políticas de un gobierno injusto.

El obispo Rolando Álvarez, un apuesto y joven de 56 años, ha sido acusado de “traición a la patria” y “atentado a la integridad nacional” por parte del régimen de Ortega. Anteriormente, 222 presos políticos, incluidos sacerdotes, fueron liberados a Estados Unidos. El obispo Álvarez estaba entre ellos en el aeropuerto.

Aquí hay una foto compuesta de las cuatro religiosas asesinadas en El Salvador por miembros de la guardia nacional en 1980. En el sentido de las agujas del reloj desde arriba están las Hermanas Maryknoll Ita Ford y Maureen Clarke, la Hermana Ursulina Dorothy Kazel y Jean Donovan. (Foto de CNS)
El beato Stanley Rother, sacerdote de la Arquidiócesis de la ciudad de Oklahoma que fue asesinado en 1981 en el pueblo guatemalteco donde atendía a los pobres, aparece en una foto sin fecha. Se dedicará un santuario en su nombre el 17 de febrero de 2023 en la ciudad de Oklahoma. (Foto OSV News/archivo CNS, archivos de la Arquidiócesis de Oklahoma City)

Pero según un artículo de opinión de National Public Radio de Scott Simon, el obispo “se detuvo en las escaleras del avión”.

En “Un obispo de inmenso coraje”, Scott registró las palabras del obispo Álvarez: “Dejen que los demás sean libres. Yo soportaré su castigo”.

Para alguien como yo, que generalmente reconoce ser un pollo, esto es una valentía impresionante.

Pero algunas de las personas que más admiro son las que simplemente se mantienen fieles, las que escuchan algún llamado que quizás solo ellos puedan escuchar. Incluso el periodista Simón parecía un poco desconcertado por el hecho de que Álvarez no se subiera a ese avión.

En 1980, cuatro mujeres, las Hermanas Maryknoll Ita Ford y Maureen Clarke, la Hermana Ursulina Dorothy Kazel y la laica Jean Donovan fueron brutalmente asesinadas por militares en medio de una guerra civil en El Salvador. No tenían que estar allí.
El padre Frans van der Lugt, un jesuita holandés, pasó 50 años de ministerio en Siria. Pero cuando el gobierno sirio, con la ayuda de Rusia, comenzó una guerra feroz contra las fuerzas rebeldes, tuvo todas las oportunidades para irse. En cambio, fue el último europeo que quedó dentro de la Ciudad Vieja de Homs cuando los combates la destruyeron. Hablando árabe con fluidez, se desempeñó como portavoz de los atrapados en la destrucción.

Entonces alguien vino por él y le dispararon en la cabeza en el jardín de su residencia.

Nuestra tradición católica tiene una larga lista de mártires, aquellos que no se irán incluso cuando la persona promedio estaría en el siguiente avión. Y siempre tiene algo que ver con la fidelidad a los pobres, esa opción preferencial por los pobres en el corazón de nuestra fe.

Así que aquí hay uno más. El Padre Stanley Rother (ahora Beato Stanley Rother) era un granjero de Okarche, Oklahoma. Fue aceptado en el seminario, pero lo enviaron a casa porque no podía con los estudios académicos, especialmente griego y latín.

Afortunadamente, su obispo le dio otra oportunidad en otro seminario y fue ordenado para la Arquidiócesis de Oklahoma City. Este sacerdote rural se ofreció como voluntario para una asignación misionera en Guatemala. De nuevo, guerra. Como siempre, más duro con los pobres, a quienes Rother sirvió en un pueblo remoto. Donde agregamos con un guiño a su primer seminario, aprendió fácilmente el dialecto maya.

El padre jesuita holandés Frans van der Lugt visita a una familia en la zona sitiada de Homs, Siria. El padre van der Lugt se negó a dejar a su pueblo en Siria mucho después de saber que su propia vida estaba en peligro. En 2014, lo sacaron de su casa y del centro comunitario que dirigía en Homs y le dispararon en la calle. (Foto de CNS/Yazan Homsy, Reuters)

Sabiendo que estaba en una lista de muerte, regresó a los EE. UU. Pero algo lo llamó de regreso al pueblo. Al igual que Frans van der Lugt, finalmente escuchó que llamaban a la puerta y lo mataron. (Para una biografía convincente del Beato Stanley Rother, lea “El pastor que no corrió” de María Ruiz Scaperlanda).

Puedo pensar en muchas racionalizaciones de por qué podrían irse. Álvarez podría hablar públicamente y educarnos sobre los problemas que enfrenta Nicaragua. Frans van der Lugt tenía 75 años cuando le dispararon. ¿Seguramente merecía morir en su propia cama?

Pero es Cuaresma. Entonces, dirigimos nuestros ojos a Jesús, y lo vemos poner su rostro hacia Jerusalén. Sabía lo que le esperaba allí. Sus discípulos estaban confundidos; Pedro le reprochó.

Pero Jesús tenía el tipo de integridad que lo impulsó a responder a un llamado del que podría haber escapado.

Oremos para conocer a Jesús y preguntarle cómo quiere enviarnos. Y oremos por el obispo Álvarez.

(Effie Caldarola es esposa, madre y abuela que recibió su maestría en ministerio pastoral de la Universidad de Seattle.)

Un tribunal nicaragüense sentenció al obispo Rolando Alvarez a más de 26 años de prisión por conspiración y difusión de información falsa. (Foto OSV Noticias/Minor Valenzuela, Reuters)

“Listen to Him”

By Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz, D.D.

The Transfiguration of the Lord was proclaimed from all Catholic pulpits throughout the world last weekend on the second Sunday of Lent, an event revealing God’s beloved Son as the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets with the appearances of Moses and Elijah. For a brief moment Peter, James and John beheld the eternal glory of God on the Lord who was calling them out of darkness into his own marvelous light. (Matthew 17:1-9)

Earlier in the Gospel of Matthew Jesus made a bold statement during his Sermon on the Mount. “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law and the Prophets. I have come not to abolish them, but to fulfill them.” (5:17)

Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz, D.D.

There was a strong prophetic component to Moses’ leadership, but generally he represents the Law in ancient Israel. As soon as Israel settled down in the promised land with a king to rule over them the prophetic ministry arose to preserve and to demand fidelity to the Covenant established by God with Moses on Mount Sinai. Jesus shouldered all of this sacred history on the Cross to establish the new Covenant in his blood. From the Law, the church for nearly 2000 years has preserved the Ten Commandments as the template for the moral life of the Christian. Section three of the Catechism devotes considerable ink to this tradition.

From the prophets primarily, the church has developed its social teaching over the past 150 years with the dawn of the modern world. Its foundation is the dignity of the human person, made in the image and likeness of God. During the season of Lent the Lord and the church call us to double down on our prayer, fasting and almsgiving as obvious signs of our repentance. Jesus has taught us how to pray, fast and die to self, challenging enough, but sometimes the hidden essentials of our mission in the world is the work of social outreach and advocacy for life, justice and peace.

At the end of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus portrayed the final judgment based on feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, clothing the naked, caring for the sick and visiting the imprisoned. This was the vision of the prophets in Israel for centuries. Listen to Isaiah, first among them.

“Why, when we fasted, did You not see? When we starved our bodies, did You pay no heed, O Lord? Because on your fast day you see to your business and oppress all your laborers! Because you fast in strife and contention, and you strike with a wicked fist! Your fasting today is not such as to make your voice heard on high. Is such the fast I desire, a day for men to starve their bodies? Is it bowing the head like a bulrush and lying in sackcloth and ashes? Do you call that a fast, a day when God is favorable? No, this is the fast I desire: To unlock the fetters of wickedness and untie the cords of the yoke to let the oppressed go free; to break off every yoke. It is to share your bread with the hungry, and to take the wretched poor into your home; when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to ignore your own kin.” (Isaiah 58:3-7)

For example, “not to ignore your own kin” is the impetus for the grassroots efforts to expand post-partum Medicaid for women and their newborn beyond two months of coverage up to one year. To ignore this critical need after Dobbs vs. Jackson Women’s Health Organization is unconscionable. This is to say that the church’s pro-life and social teachings are always at work, in Mississippi, in the United States and throughout our world because the powerful voices of the prophets are part of our religious DNA.

“Let justice roll like a river, righteousness like an unfailing stream.” (Amos 5:24) “He has showed you, O man, what is good, and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8) This is an essential part of the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets of which Jesus spoke, and that God the Father revealed on the mountain of Transfiguration. “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” He is the Way and the Truth in whom we have been baptized and seek faithfully to follow in thought, word and deed.

Sacred reality of the Eucharist

Reflections on Life
By Melvin Arrington

In observance of the National Eucharistic Revival, I offer these reflections on how I came to understand what Venerable Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen meant when he said: “The greatest love story of all time is contained in a tiny white Host.”

When I was growing up in the Baptist Church, the observance of the Lord’s Supper was always a special occasion, partly because it was observed so infrequently, but also because of its solemnity. Children knew they had better not be caught whispering or passing notes during this service. Church members believed the bread and grape juice they consumed merely symbolized the Body and Blood of Christ because the service was only a remembrance rather than a re-enactment. Nevertheless, we were always warned not to partake if we knew ourselves to be unworthy.

GLUCKSTADT – Father Ajani Gibson, of the Archdiocese of New Orleans, looks to the Eucharist as Bishop Joseph Kopacz holds the host up during Mass at St. Joseph parish, as a part of a Eucharistic Revival event on Saturday, Oct. 29, 2022. Mississippi Catholic columnist, Melvin Arrington reflects on the sacred reality of the Eucharist in his column “Reflections on Life.” (Photo by Joanna Puddister King)

My first exposure to the Catholic Church was in graduate school when I started attending Mass with Terry, my future wife. It quickly became obvious to me that the focal point of the Mass was always the same thing week after week: the priest would consecrate the bread and wine and repeat the words Jesus spoke at the Last Supper. Then the people would come forward and receive communion.

One day, after having attended Mass several times, I asked Terry, a cradle Catholic, if she had ever gotten tired of repeating the same ritual every Sunday. She replied simply, “No.” But she said it with a slight, almost imperceptible, smile while looking off in the distance, as if contemplating something beautiful. This was more than 50 years ago, and I still remember that conversation. Needless to say, her answer made a deep and permanent impression on me. Now, as a Catholic, I can appreciate why this sacrament is the essential element of the Mass. After all, the one thing Christ asked his disciples to remember was His sacrificial death.

After we were married, we tried to focus on those doctrines baptized Christians hold in common. Unfortunately, belief in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist wasn’t one I shared with her. But after praying, studying and attending Mass for many years, I finally came to accept this teaching and found my way into the Catholic Church, guided by the Holy Spirit, the writings of Archbishop Sheen, and Terry’s wonderful example of faith.

During this journey I learned that the first-century Christians believed Christ was actually present in the Eucharist. This was not just a symbol for them. Jesus said when we gather to worship He is in our midst. (Matt. 18:20) So, from the very beginning when the first Christians met in homes for prayer and the “breaking of the bread,” they sincerely believed what they were receiving was the Precious Body and Blood of the Lord.

The church has maintained a firm belief in the Real Presence throughout its history. The early Church Fathers taught this, and the teaching largely remained unchallenged until the Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century. Of course, Protestants to this day hold to a symbolic interpretation. But it’s important to keep in mind that during the church’s first 1500 years (75% of its 2000 year history), all Christians believed Christ was truly present in the Sacrament of the Altar.

Growing up, I had learned to interpret the Lord’s Supper symbolically, but the first-century Christians didn’t understand it that way, for one reason because they were able to distinguish between literal and figurative language. For example, when Jesus said, “I am the Good Shepherd” (John 10:11), they realized He was speaking metaphorically because He wasn’t really a shepherd; He was a carpenter turned teacher/preacher. They knew Jesus was using this expression to show how He watched over and cared for his own.

In like manner, when Jesus told Peter and Andrew He would make them fishers of men (Matt. 4:19), He didn’t mean these two fishermen would literally be snaring people in their nets. They must have instantly grasped the metaphorical significance of His remark – that they were being called to lead men and women to follow Jesus – because upon hearing those words the two men left their boats without hesitation and went along with Him.

However, when we come to John chapter six Jesus speaks literally, leaving no room for ambiguity: “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life … For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink.” (vv. 54-55) How do we know that? We know because when He explained this pronouncement in greater detail and they understood He meant it literally, many left Him, claiming this teaching was too hard. Even the persecutors of the early Christians took these words at face value because one of the charges they leveled at Jesus’ followers was cannibalism.

Toward the end of this passage Jesus stated, “There are some of you who do not believe.” (John 6:64) We still have scoffers with us today. In fact, surveys show that seventy percent of Catholics in this country don’t believe in the Real Presence. Despite this sad fact, the church’s teachings have not changed. We, like those in Jesus’ day, should take His words in the “Bread of Life” discourse literally. There is no other option. What Jesus said is true because He said it, and He is Truth itself.

As Christoph Cardinal Schönborn has commented, the people do not kneel and the priest does not genuflect “in front of a mere symbol.” He goes on to explain, “No one genuflects in front of a piece of bread. I bow down before God in person.”

The Eucharist, like other “mysteries of faith” (e.g. the Trinity), is difficult to explain, but it’s not necessary to comprehend something fully in order to believe it. Without understanding how gravity works or how light can travel at 186,000 miles per second, I still accept these things as true.

When we approach the altar with bread and wine, two of the basic elements that sustain life, we are bringing gifts that represent our own sacrificial offering. Bread and wine are most appropriate because, as Archbishop Sheen explains, “no two substances have to undergo more to become what they are than do wheat and grapes. One passes through the Gethsemane of a mill, the other through the Calvary of the winepress before they can be presented to the Beloved on the altar.”

In contemplating this “holy and living sacrifice,” I’m reminded of a weekly feature than used to run in a local entertainment paper. The feature asked selected individuals to answer a single question. One week the editors, probably thinking of celebrity sightings, asked: “When have you ever been in the presence of greatness?” One of our parishioners was among those questioned. He gave the best response imaginable: “Every Sunday.”

Like Coca-Cola’s advertising slogan of the 1970s, “It’s the Real Thing,” we, in turn, boldly proclaim that the Eucharist is really and truly the “Real Thing.” It is sacred reality – Jesus in our midst, offering us intimate participation in His Divine Life. And that’s a love story for all time.

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

Saints Perpetua and Felicity
Feast day: March 7

STEWARDSHIP PATHS
By Julia Williams
JACKSON – Perpetua and Felicity were African Christian women, whose names we hear in the litany of the saints. They were martyred during the persecution of Septimus Severus in Carthage, early in the third century.

The Stewardship PATHS newsletter is produced monthly by the Office of Stewardship and Development. Scan QR code to subscribe. Artwork: Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate, Saints Felicity and Perpetua.

Perpetua was the daughter of a pagan nobleman and the mother of a still nursing infant. Felicity was a pregnant slave girl who gave birth in prison just a few days before she was put to death. The persecution of Christians was a gruesome sport in Carthage.

Perpetua and Felicity, along with three male companions who also refused to renounce their faith, were taken into the public amphitheater where the men were thrown to the lions and the women were later beheaded.
In spite of being tortured herself, Perpetua encouraged the others to “stand firm in the faith, love one another and do not be tempted to do wrong because of our sufferings.”

How good a steward am I with the gift of faith? Am I willing to stand firm in the face of ridicule or criticism? What would I be willing to sacrifice for my faith?
St. Perpetua and St. Felicity, please pray for us!

Excerpts: aocstewardship.org

Requiem for an older brother

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
Several weeks ago my older brother George died. His death was somewhat of a shock since he had been in relatively good health until a week before he died. His story is worth telling. No community, Mircea Eliade once said, should botch its deaths.

Although highly intelligent and motivated, George never got the chance for higher education. Our family was large and living on a small farm that could not support us. He, like other older members of our family, ended his schooling early to enter the work force to help support the family. In this, he was not unique. In the second-generation immigrant community where we grew up, a lot of his generation, both men and women, had to do the same. His story, like many others like him, was one within which he had to renounce his own dreams for the good of others.

Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

His story is a story of dedication to faith, to family, to church and to community. For the most part, he was conscripted by circumstance. Although he was very bright, perhaps the brightest in our family, circumstances dictated that he leave school after the eighth grade to help support the family. Consequently, he never really had a chance do what he wanted in life, both in terms of a career and in terms of getting married and having a family; and for him the great sacrifice wasn’t career, but marriage.
George was never meant to be life-long bachelor, but his life and commitments never quite allowed for marriage and led instead to a life of celibacy (in much the same way as this plays out for a priest or a vowed religious). Nevertheless, as for a vowed celibate, in the end, it served him well. He ended up with a very large family, that is, with people from all over the world considering him their brother, their mentor, their trusted friend. Since his death, there has been a flood of letters, emails, texts, phone calls and messages from people everywhere expressing what George meant to them. He died celibate, but he died a loved man.

However, all of this came at a price. Those of us who were privy to his private frustrations, know the price his soul paid for his dedication. He needed, at times, simply to vent at a safe place vis-à-vis the frustrations and tensions he was carrying, times when he couldn’t fully emulate the patience and selflessness of Jesus. However, he always expressed his frustrations at a safe place, where his venting couldn’t hurt anybody. He was always bigger than his frustrations. The deepest part of him was always gracious and laced with humor. He brought laughter into every room he entered.

Moreover, he was a man of faith and of the church. The church was an integral part of what he thought of as family and he gave himself over fully, both to the little rural faith community within which he lived and to the larger church. For more than twenty years he helped lead a Lay Formation program and assisted in the youth ministry in his home diocese. The dedication and talent he brought to those programs were recognized by many. Indeed, at one point the local bishop came up to him and said, “George, I have only question for you, do I ordain you now or do you want to go to the seminary for a few years first?”

Ministry as a priest would have been a dream come true for him, but those of us who knew him also know why he turned down that invitation. He still had some commitments inside of family and community that he felt he could not abandon. That choice might be questioned; but again, it was made out of dedication and selflessness, putting the needs of others before his own.

In the Gospel of John, the author describes how, after Jesus was already dead, soldiers came and pierced his side with a lance and “immediately blood and water flowed” out of his dead body. An interesting image! Life flowing out of a dead body! After Jesus died, his followers felt themselves nourished by him in an even deeper way than during his life. From the spirit he left behind, they sensed a rich outpouring of life and cleansing.

George also left behind that kind of a spirit. Everyone who knew him will continue to drink from his spirit – his selflessness, his sacrificing his dreams for family and church, and his willingness to carry frustration and tension for the sake of others. Not least, we will be nourished by his humor and the lightness he brought into a room, a quality that manifested both his intelligence and his zest for life.

He lived a good life. He died a loved man. He will be remembered fondly by a large family – for whom he sacrificed his own chance for marriage and having a family of his own.

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

Called by Name

We finally won the Championship! If you know me, you know that I love basketball. I love watching basketball and talking about basketball, and I most especially love playing basketball. Much of my childhood was spent on a patch grass which had been pounded down into a patch of dirt as I shot baskets either with siblings, friends, or all by my lonesome. Even today I love to shoot baskets at the end of a long day just to decompress and get my thoughts together. So yes, I love basketball.

Father Nick Adam

I was filled with great joy, then, when I heard that the St. Joseph Seminary College basketball team won the national seminary basketball that they played in back in January on the campus of Mundelein Seminary near Chicago. St. Joseph, or St. Ben’s, as it is more affectionately known (since it is on the campus of a Benedictine monastery), has been playing in that tournament since way back when I was there (2012-2014). We always were at somewhat of a disadvantage because basketball isn’t life down here in the South during the winter, since it’s usually warm enough to get outside! In the Midwest, however, and the Northeast, the basketball court is one of the only spaces during the long cold winter to get some good exercise in community, and so we would always travel up to the great white north in fear and trembling! We knew that these guys had been playing day in and day out in the gym while we were enjoying the great outdoors.

In my seminary career I think I was a part of one win in basketball outside the state of Louisiana, but the boys brought back the championship trophy this year, and our own Grayson Foley was a big part of the team. Grayson played basketball at St. Joe Madison and was the starting center for the Bruins before taking his talents to St. Ben’s in 2020. At 6’6, he provided much needed height to the seminary squad, and I am so happy that those guys were able to take part in the tournament.

Every time I played, even though we lost, I always enjoyed getting to know guys from other parts of the country. We would return with great stories and great memories. I know that many folks in the diocese supported the team as they raised money to travel to and from the tournament, and I want to thank those that gave to that cause. We want our guys to have a well-rounded experience, and even though seminary basketball is not March Madness or the NBA, it means a lot to be a part of a team, and I’m really proud of Grayson and the boys for bringing home the (Seminary) National Championship! And by the way, some of those guys, including Grayson, are great athletes, which goes to show that while sports is a great way to have fun together, it is not the end all be all. I’m grateful that those great athletes followed their call to the seminary, and that they still get to use their talents together on the court.
– Father Nick Adam

(For more info on vocations email: nick.adam@jacksondiocese.org.)

Repent and believe in the Gospel

By Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz, D.D.
Once in a Blue Moon, a natural occurrence nearly every three years, the Gospel of Matthew flows seamlessly from Ordinary Time into Ash Wednesday. Since the Christmas season the church has been proclaiming our weekly Gospel from the Sermon on the Mount from the fifth chapter of Matthew. We are in Cycle A of our three-year rotation with the Gospels of Mathew, Mark and Luke.

This year the timing was picture-perfect to go from chapter 5 into the traditional Ash Wednesday Gospel taken from St. Matthew’s sixth Chapter on prayer, fasting and almsgiving. Recall that the Sermon on the Mount encompasses Chapters 5-6-7 in Matthew’s Gospel, the first book of the New Testament. The well-known words “repent and believe in the Gospel” or “remember that you are dust, and unto dust you shall return” as each person is marked with the ashes are the bridge to the Lenten season of conversion and new life in Jesus Christ. This is heaven-sent because the Sermon on the Mount is at the essence of the Lord’s standard for holiness of life, and an exceptional examination of conscience for our 40-day spiritual journey. Each chapter is brimming with God’s wisdom and by allowing Jesus’ words to find a home in our hearts and minds, and our actions will keep us firmly fixed on the road to life from on high .

Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz, D.D.

Immediately following the Ash Wednesday Gospel on prayer, fasting and almsgiving is one of the Lord’s summary statements on storing up treasures in heaven. “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth, rust and thieves are powerless.”

Why? “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” (6:19-21)

As disciples of the Lord, the first foot forward is not about receiving pennies from heaven, as it is storing up treasures in heaven. “But seek first his Kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well.” (Matthew 6:33)

We are in the world and for sure, want to live a full life, but we are not of the world. “I have given them your word; and the world has hated them, because they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world. I pray not that you should take them out of the world, but that you should keep them from the evil one.” (John 17:11, 14-15.)

The treasures we are storing up in heaven are rooted in prayer, fasting and almsgiving, or generosity of life, walking on the path Jesus trod, in the desert overcoming temptation, and as a treasure trove of blessing in daily life.

The Ash Wednesday demand to repent and believe in the Gospel is the foundation of the Lord’s call in each of our lives. St. Mark’s Gospel, without the Infancy Narratives of Matthew’s and Luke’s Gospels, and the Prologue of John’s Gospel wastes no time over who Jesus is and what are the demands of his mission. “The beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” (Mark 1:1) Immediately after his identity is established Jesus sets out on his public ministry. “After John was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee, preaching the Gospel of God saying, The time is fulfilled, and the Kingdom of God is at hand: repent, and believe in the Gospel.” (Mark 1:14-15)

Jesus invites us to place our faith in him as the Son of God and to repent, embracing a life-long journey of conversion of mind and heart, of mindset and attitude. We have been buried with Christ in baptism so that we can die to self and rise with him each day. This is not a once in a Blue Moon display of ashes, but a way of living with a storehouse of treasures.

Lesson from “the misfit”

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

More than a half century ago, Flannery O’Connor wrote a short story, A Good Man is Hard to Find. One of the main characters in the story is an elderly woman who is a difficult, stubborn and not a particularly happy person. Traveling to Florida with her family, she is constantly whining and complaining. Then, thanks to some carelessness on her part, they get in a traffic accident and while their car is stalled, an escaped convict (the Misfit) chances on them and executes the whole family. Just before she is shot, the unhappy elderly woman, fearing for her life, reaches out and touches the Misfit and has a gentle moment with him. After killing her, he says, she would have been a good woman, if there had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life.

Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

I suspect we would all be better persons if there were someone there to shoot us every minute of our lives. At least I know that I would because I once had someone there to shoot me and it made me a better person at least during the time when the threat was there. Here’s my story.

Twelve years ago, I was diagnosed with cancer. The initial prognosis was good (surgery and chemotherapy and the cancer should be stopped). For a while it was. However, three years later it again made an unwelcome reappearance. This time the prognosis was not good. My oncologist, whom I trust, shared that situation was grave. Chemotherapy would be tried again; but he assured me, that barring the exceptional, this treatment would not be effective for long and would be more for palliative purposes than for any real hope of remission or cure. He felt it his duty to deliver that message clearly. I was facing the shooter. You have about thirty months to live!
As you can guess, this wasn’t easy to accept and process. I struggled mightily to make peace with it. Eventually, through prayer, I wrote a creed for myself as to how I would try to live out those two years. Here’s the creed:

I am going to strive to be as healthy as I can for as long as I can.
I am going to strive to be as productive for as long as I can.
I am going to make every day and every activity as precious and enjoyable as possible.
I am going to strive to be as gracious, warm, and charitable as possible.
I am going to strive to accept others’ love in a deeper way than I have up to now.
I am going to strive to live a more-fully “reconciled life.” No room for past hurts anymore.
I am going to strive to keep my sense of humor intact.
I am going to strive to be as courageous and brave as I can.
I am going to strive, always, to never look on what I am losing, but rather to look at how wonderful and full my life has been and is.
And, I am going to, daily, lay all of this at God’s feet through prayer.

For some months I prayed that creed intensely every day, trying to live out its every tenet. However, the chemotherapy treatments were, surprisingly, very effective. After five months of treatment, all the indications of cancer were gone, I was healthy again, and my oncologist was optimistic that, perhaps, his diagnosis had been too dire and that with some maintenance chemo, I might enjoy many more years of life. And, indeed I did for the next seven years.

However, during those seven years of remission, feeling healthy and optimistic, with no one there to shoot me every day, I now prayed my creed less frequently and with less intensity. And even though its challenges were now more ingrained in me, my old habits of taking life for granted, of praying St. Augustine’s prayer (Make me a better Christian, Lord, but not yet!), of losing perspective, of impatience, of self-pity, of nursing grievances, and of not appreciating fully the richness of life, began to seep back into my life.

The “shooter” reappeared two years ago with another reoccurrence of the cancer. Initially the prognosis was dire (thirty months and chemotherapy for the rest of my life) and the creed again took a central place in my life. However, a new treatment unexpectedly offered a much longer future and, with no one there to shoot me every day, the creed again began to lose its power and my old habits of impatience, ingratitude and self-pity began again to mark my days.

I am deeply grateful for all the post-cancer years that God and modern medicine have given me. Cancer has been a gift that has taught me a lot. Having my life parceled out in six months chunks has me appreciating life, others, health, nature, the simple joys of life and my work like never before. I’m a better person when there is someone there to shoot me every day!

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

Called by Name

God doesn’t call the qualified – He qualifies the called. In my four and half years as a priest I have learned to do countless things that I once thought had “nothing to do” with ministering to God’s people, but which I now realize are mandatory if I am going to be an effective parish priest. I have learned to create agendas and run meetings – not exactly the height of spiritual union with the Lord, but very important if you want your staff, finance council, pastoral council and other committees to be in a good mood. I have learned how to fundraise and create budgets and produce purchase orders and expense reports – not what I immediately thought about when I began to consider the priesthood, but very important when it comes to day-to-day stewardship of the goods that the People of God entrust priests within the church.

I have learned to do all kinds of things that at one stage or another I thought had “nothing to do” with ministering to God’s people, but now I realize that as a priest, especially a diocesan priest, everything that I do can be caught up in the mystery of God’s call to be a priest. When we entrust our lives to the Lord by following his will for us, we allow him to take our lives in whatever direction he sees fit. This is what we prepare men studying for the priesthood to do. They need to be generally prepared to be good leaders, good organizers and good business managers, but they won’t know exactly what will be asked of them until they are out with their flock. Getting ready to be a priest is probably something like getting ready to practice medicine – you get lots and lots of training in med school and then when you put the white coat on, you begin to be challenged by things you never expected.

Father Nick Adam

All this is to say: our seminarians may not take a ‘class’ for every possible situation they’ll be faced with, but they are trained to expect the unexpected and do their best, because God doesn’t call the qualified – he qualifies the called. This means that the most important thing that a man learns in seminary is how to pray and how to remain in relationship with the Lord who has called him to this task and this identity. If a man is deeply rooted in a life of prayer and a joy-filled relationship with the Lord, then he will be up to the task even when the task at hand is something he had never prepared for.

In the past week at my parish, I’ve done a wide scale edit of the website (didn’t learn how to do that in seminary), revamped our social media presence (didn’t learn how to do that either), issued purchase orders for seminarian education (same) and filed expense reports (same). It can be easy to see these tasks as “added burdens,” but that is not the message that the seminary sends to our men. For the diocesan priest, all of these administrative tasks are a part of a loving response to God’s call to the priesthood. These things are important to the life of the church and the life of our people, and so we are trained over 6-9 years to expect the unexpected, and to see every part of our day as an opportunity to minister to the People of God.

– Father Nick Adam

For more info on vocations email: nick.adam@jacksondiocese.org.

The miracle of ordinary time

ON ORDINARY TIMES
By Lucia A. Silecchia

Several weeks ago, I was visiting a parish not my own for Mass on a Sunday morning. I sat about a third of the way back – on the left had side as I usually do. When I came in, I noticed some young children sitting a few rows behind me. I did not pay too much attention to them during Mass because they were remarkably quiet.

But then … we reached the sacred moment of the Consecration. The bells rang and the Blessed Sacrament was elevated in that holy moment I so often take for granted. At that exact instant, there was a small voice from a young child who said, clearly and simply, “wow.”

Maybe he was reacting to the bells. Maybe he was impressed by something entirely unrelated to Mass. Maybe one of his siblings had done something that caught his attention. Maybe his parents were embarrassed by his exuberance. Maybe I should have been critical of the way he broke the sacred silence.
But I was grateful.

Lucia A. Silecchia

I was grateful for that tiny voice that said “wow.” He drew my attention to the fact that I had just witnessed something awesome for which “wow” seems to be the only right reaction. It was a reaction that recognized that what he, and I, and we had just seen was a miracle far beyond our comprehension, and yet within our grasp.

We had just seen the miracle that, through God’s lavish generosity, happens every moment of every day in grand cathedrals and silent chapels in every corner of the globe. It is the miracle that has happened for nearly two millennia.

As an adult, I know with my mind what happens at Mass. Sometimes, though, the heart and soul can lag behind. They can fail to see how glorious that miraculous, sacrificial gift is. Sometimes, the heart and soul need to hear “wow” to remember what awe really means.

The Catholic Church in the United States is in the first year of the National Eucharistic Revival. The Revival’s aim is “to restore understanding and devotion to this great mystery.” As the years of the Revival unfold, the invitation to delve more deeply into the heart of this “great mystery” will take many forms in our dioceses and in our parishes.

Certainly, the aim of restoring understanding is a critical first step in bringing about a fuller appreciation for the great gift of the Eucharist and the reality that it is, truly, Christ Himself. If this understanding leads to greater devotion, the Revival will have been a great gift to the church in our time.

Yet, my tiny friend’s “wow” leads me to think that understanding and devotion are but the first two steps on the journey to awe.

My tiny friend’s “wow” was the invitation to stop taking this daily miracle for granted and really notice what happens.

My tiny friend’s “wow” expressed the grateful reverence and reverent gratitude that should not belong solely to the young. It belongs to all who rejoice in this great miracle of 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.)