IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

There comes a time in life when it’s time to stop writing your resume and begin to write your obituary. I’m not sure who first coined that line, but there’s wisdom in it.

What’s the difference between a resume and an obituary? Well, the former details your achievements, the latter expresses how you want to be remembered and what kind of oxygen and blessing you want to leave behind. But, how exactly do you write an obituary so that it’s not, in effect, just another version of your resume? Here’s a suggestion.

There’s a custom in Judaism where as an adult you make out a spiritual will each year. Originally, this will was more in line with the type of will we typically make, where the focus is on burial instructions, on who gets what when we die, and on how to legally and practically tie up the unfinished details of our lives. Through time, however, this evolved so that today this will is focused more on a review of your life, the highlighting of what’s been most precious in your life, the honest expression of regrets and apologies, and the blessing, by name, of those persons to whom you want to say a special goodbye. The will is reviewed and renewed each year so that it is always current, and it’s read aloud at your funeral as the final words you want to leave behind for your loved ones.

This can be a very helpful exercise for each of us to do, except that such a will is not done in a lawyer’s office, but in prayer, perhaps with a spiritual director, a counsellor, or a confessor helping us. Very practically, what might go into a spiritual will of this sort?

If you are looking for help in doing this, I recommend the work and the writings of Richard Groves, the co-founder of the Sacred Art of Living Center. He has been working in the field of end-of-life spirituality for more than thirty years and offers some very helpful guidance vis-à-vis creating a spiritual will and renewing it regularly. It focus on three questions.

First: What, in life, did God want me to do? Did I do it? All of us have some sense of having a vocation, of having a purpose for being in this world, of having been given some task to fulfill in life. Perhaps we might only be dimly aware of this, but, at some level of soul, all of us sense a certain duty and purpose. The first task in a spiritual will is to try to come to grips with that. What did God want me to do in this life? How well or poorly have I been doing it?

Second: To whom do I need to say, “I’m sorry?” What are my regrets? Just as others have hurt us, we have hurt others. Unless we die very young, all of us have made mistakes, hurt others and done things we regret. A spiritual will is meant to address this with searing honesty and deep contrition. We are never more big-hearted, noble, prayerful, and deserving of respect than when we are down on our knees sincerely recognizing our weaknesses, apologizing, asking where we need to make amends.

Third: Who, very specifically, by name, do I want to bless before I die and gift with some special oxygen? We are most like God (infusing divine energy into life) when we are admiring others, affirming them, and offering them whatever we can from our own lives as a help to them in theirs. Our task is to do this for everyone, but we cannot do this for everyone, individually, by name. In a spiritual will, we are given the chance to name those people we most want to bless. When the prophet Elijah was dying, his servant, Elisha, begged him to leave him “a double portion” of his spirit. When we die, we’re meant to leave our spirit behind as sustenance for everyone; but there are some people, whom we want to name, to whom we want to leave a double portion. In this will, we name those people.

In a wonderfully challenging book, The Four Things That Matter Most, Ira Byock, a medical doctor who works with the dying, submits that there are four things we need to say to our loved ones before we die: “Please forgive me,” “I forgive you,” “Thank you,” and “I love you.” He’s right; but, given the contingencies, tensions, wounds, heartaches, and ups and downs within our relationships, even with those we love dearly, it isn’t always easy (or sometimes even existentially possible) to say those words clearly, without any equivocation. A spiritual will gives us the chance to say them from a place that we can create which is beyond the tensions that generally cloud our relationships and prevent us from speaking clearly, so that at our funeral, after the eulogy, we will have no unfinished business with those we have left behind.

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

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

“The cock will crow at the breaking of your own ego – there are lots of ways to wake up!”
John Shea gave me those words and I understood them a little better recently as I stood in line at an airport: I had checked in for a flight, approached security, saw a huge lineup, and accepted the fact that it would take at least 40 minutes to get through it.

I was all right with the long wait and moved patiently in the line – until, just as my turn came, another security crew arrived, opened a second scanning machine, and a whole lineup of people, behind me, who had not waited the forty minutes, got their turns almost immediately. I still got my turn as I would have before, but something inside of me felt slighted and angry: “This wasn’t fair! I’d been waiting for forty minutes, and they got their turns at the same time as I did!” I had been content waiting, until those who arrived later didn’t have to wait at all. I hadn’t been treated unfairly, but some others had been luckier than I’d been.

That experience taught me something, beyond the fact that my heart isn’t always huge and generous. It helped me understand something about Jesus’ parable concerning the workers who came at the 11th hour and received the same wages as those who’d worked all day and what is meant by the challenge that is given to those who grumbled about the unfairness of this: “Are you envious because I’m generous?”

Are we jealous because God is generous? Does it bother us when others are given unmerited gifts and forgiveness?

You bet! Ultimately, that sense of injustice, of envy that someone else caught a break is a huge stumbling block to our happiness. Why? Because something in us reacts negatively when it seems that life is not making others pay the same dues as we are paying.

In the Gospels we see an incident where Jesus goes to the synagogue on a Sabbath, stands up to read, and quotes a text from Isaiah – except he doesn’t quote it fully but omits a part. The text (Isaiah 61:1-2) would have been well known to his listeners and it describes Isaiah’s vision of what will be the sign that God has finally broken into the world and irrevocably changed things. And what will that be?

For Isaiah, the sign that God is now ruling the earth will be good news for the poor, consolation or the broken-hearted, freedom for the enslaved, grace abundant for everyone, and vengeance on the wicked. Notice though, when Jesus quotes this, he leaves out the part about vengeance. Unlike Isaiah, he doesn’t say that part of our joy will be seeing the wicked punished.

In heaven we will be given what we are owed and more (unmerited gift, forgiveness we don’t deserve, joy beyond imagining) but, it seems, we will not be given that catharsis we so much want here on earth, the joy of seeing the wicked punished.

The joys of heaven will not include seeing Hitler suffer. Indeed, the natural itch we have for strict justice (“An eye for an eye”) is exactly that, a natural itch, something the Gospels invite us beyond. The desire for strict justice blocks our capacity for forgiveness and thereby prevents us from entering heaven where God, like the Father of the Prodigal Son, embraces and forgives without demanding a pound of flesh for a pound of sin.

We know we need God’s mercy, but if grace is true for us, it must be true for everyone; if forgiveness is given us, it must be given everybody; and if God does not avenge our misdeeds, God must not avenge the misdeeds of others either. Such is the logic of grace, and such is the love of the God to whom we must attune ourselves.

Happiness is not about vengeance, but about forgiveness; not about vindication, but about unmerited embrace; and not about capital punishment, but about living beyond even murder.

It is not surprising that, in some of the great saints, we see a theology bordering on universalism, namely, the belief that in the end God will save everyone, even the Hitlers. They believed this not because they didn’t believe in hell or the possibility of forever excluding ourselves from God, but because they believed that God’s love is so universal, so powerful, and so inviting that, ultimately, even those in hell will see the error of their ways, swallow their pride, and give themselves over to love. The final triumph of God, they felt, will be when the devil himself converts and hell is empty.

Maybe that will never happen. God leaves us free. Nevertheless, when I, or anyone else, is upset at an airport, at a parole board hearing, or anywhere else where someone gets something we don’t think he or she deserves, we have to accept that we’re still a long way from understanding and accepting the kingdom of God.

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

Kneading Faith
By Fran Lavelle

Autumn comes, even to Mississippi. Perhaps not in the same way as I remember the autumns of my childhood, but it comes, nonetheless. In my mind’s eye I can still see the hills and valleys covered in color swept deciduous trees. The colors, like a patchwork quilt, of vibrant yellows, reds and oranges. Cooling temperatures and open windows at night were the first signs that change was literally in the air. Like diligent ants we stored up the remaining fragments of summer. Apple butter was made in a large copper kettle slowly simmered over a wood fire outdoors. The last of the season’s hay was stacked and stored for winter’s consumption. Field corn was cut and stored in the corn crib. Sweaters and sweatshirts were emancipated from their storage bags and our summer attire was stored away for next year.

Autumn is a special season for many reasons. School is fully underway. Football dominates the airwaves. The temperatures are slightly cooler, and the vestiges of tailgates, hayrides and bonfires are palatable. In the life of the church, autumn represents the beginning of our preparation for the end. Soon will end another liturgical year and reflected in its last days our annual reminder of our own last days. We celebrate All Saint’s Day and All Soul’s Day to remember and honor those who have gone before us. We are called to a stillness in the wake of these autumn days to contemplate our own journey of life and faith.

We have a choice to make as we settle into our autumn. We can hit the pause button and make some time for reflection, or we can burn through the next few months like a well-trained thoroughbred destined to win the Holiday Triple Crown. You know an award worthy yard bedecked with all things Halloween, a Pinterest perfect Thanksgiving and a Griswold meets Martha Stewart Christmas light display. Please don’t get me wrong, I love good décor and I absolutely love a good party. Did anyone say chardonnay? Keep doing the festive things that bring people together in a joyful way. I am in. In the midst of the Holiday Triple Crown, it is also a season that calls us to contemplation and prayer.

I have seen a multiplication of grey hairs in the past few years. Determined to – as the Beatles would say, let it be – I am choosing not to dye it. Rather, I am using it as a reminder as I pass through each season of the year that I am also privileged to pass through these seasons of life. I’m on the countdown for a big birthday next year that starts with 6 and ends with Ohhh! Taking advantage of the opportunities to be more reflective and live more intentionally become more urgent with each passing year.

Yes, the rituals surrounding the seasons can create powerful touch tones that remind us of the sweetness of this life. They can become place markers that keep us connected to our past and serve as reminders to keep making memories as we continue on the journey. But they can also be important touch tones that remind us of things eternal. I remember after my Dad died; I was thinking about his legacy. It made me think about my own. Not legacy like that of a major sports figure or noted philanthropist, but legacy in the ordinary ways that we are called to love and to serve. What was I doing to leave this world better for having me in it? That reflective moment nearly 30 years ago in October was the seed that germinated to become the vocation I live out today.

There are no do-overs in life when it comes to days. They are here and then they are a memory. I am reminded of a line from the movie “The Shawshank Redemption” – “It comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living or get busy dying.”

No one is promised tomorrow so for today let’s vow to get busy living. And by living we are not merely existing or stringing together weeks into months into years and calling it good. Living as intentional, reflective, prayerful companions on the journey. Choosing to will the good of the other above ourselves. Choosing to love unconditionally. Choosing to let God guide our steps and the Holy Spirit illuminate the path so that others may follow our example.

Socrates once said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” I challenge you to find time in these early days of autumn to take the time to reflect on the gift of the life you have been given. Look back on your memories of the autumns of your life. We can learn so much about God and ourselves in this season of change.

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

THINGS OLD AND NEW
By Ruth Powers

Catholic saints have been in the news off and on over the last few weeks. A movie about St. Pio of Pietrelcina has just been released surrounded by discussion of the conversion of its star, Shia LeBeouf, to Catholicism. Pope John Paul I was beatified on Sept. 4 of this year, and a new documentary about Mississippi’s own Servant of God Sister Thea Bowman will debut on Oct. 2. This raises the question in many peoples’ minds: How does someone become recognized as a saint in the Catholic Church?

The church teaches that anyone in heaven is a saint, but there are certain people whose lives were examples of heroic virtue or who remained faithful to God through martyrdom who are solemnly recognized as models of virtue and intercessors before God and are worthy of special honor (veneration) by Catholics. This practice of recognizing certain people as worthy of special honor began in the ancient church with honoring martyrs who had given their lives for their faith in Christ and recognizing them as intercessors for those who were left behind. A little later, this recognition spread to “confessors,” who were people who stood up for their faith and suffered persecution for it but were not martyred.

In the first five centuries of the church, people were recognized as saints by the acclamation of the people. There was no formal process, and most saints were locally recognized holy men and women. By the sixth century, requests for recognition of a person as a saint had to be examined by the local bishop, and he then proclaimed whether the person was to be so honored. Beginning in the tenth century, the local bishop still made the initial examination of the person’s life and gathered as much eyewitness testimony as possible; but the results of this examination were then passed on to the Pope, who made the final determination. In 1588 Pope Sixtus set up a new office in the Vatican, the Congregation for Sacred Rites, to help with this process of determination of new saints (among other things). The process remained basically the same, with some minor changes, until 1983 when the current process was put in place.

According to the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, there are three stages in the canonization process, with specific things that happen in each stage. The first stage is the examination of the life of a candidate for sainthood. The first phase of this stage takes place at the diocesan level. A petitioner, (which can be an organization within the diocese, a religious order, or a lay association of the faithful) asks the bishop to open an investigation into the life of the candidate. Although a five-year waiting period after the person dies is required, the Pope can dispense from this waiting period. The bishop consults with other bishops, the people of his diocese and the Holy See regarding beginning the investigation. Once he receives permission from the Holy See in Rome, the bishop sets up a tribunal to study the life of the person proposed for canonization and how they lived a life of heroic virtue, or the circumstances surrounding their martyrdom. Witnesses are called and documents by and about the person proposed are examined. If the decision is made at the local level to continue the process, the person is now called a “Servant of God.”

In the second phase of the examination, all documentation is then sent to the Congregation for the Causes of the Saints in the Vatican, where it is examined by nine theologians who vote on whether the candidate exemplified heroic virtue or suffered martyrdom. If a majority of the theologians agree, the evidence is then passed on to cardinals and bishops who are part of the Congregation. If they also agree, the prefect of the Congregation presents the entire cases to the Pope, who gives his approval and names the person “Venerable” if they have lived a virtuous life. If they were martyred, they receive the title of “Blessed” immediately.

At this point the second stage of the process, beatification, begins. For the beatification of a Venerable, there must be a verified miracle attributed to the intercession of that person after death, proven through an intensive investigation with extensive documentation. If the Congregation for the Causes of Saints concludes that a miracle has occurred, and the Pope has approved, the Venerable is given the title of “Blessed” and local public veneration is approved within the diocese or religious order where the petition for sainthood originated. No miracle is required for a martyr to be given the title of Blessed.

Once the candidate is named as Blessed, the final stage of the process begins—canonization. In this stage another miracle attributed to the intercession of the Blessed after beatification must be verified. The same process of examination and verification is followed as before. Once the miracle is verified the Pope then issues a decree of canonization and the person receives the title of “Saint.” This means the person may now be publicly venerated by the Universal Church.

(Ruth Powers is the program coordinator for St. Mary Basilica Parish in Natchez.)