OUNCE OF PREVENTION
By Reba J. McMellon, M.S., LPC
The number one reason adult survivors don’t tell their parents about being sexually abused is they didn’t want to make the situation worse. They fear the parent wouldn’t be able to handle the information in a healthy way.

Opening a conversation doesn’t have to be awkward and heavy. Ask your adolescent and adult children what their views are on the recent #metoo movement and the #timesup movement. Then, listen, listen, listen.

Different generations define sexual assault differently. What was shrugged off in the 1970’s may not be considered something to ignore now. Ask your kids what they consider unwelcomed flirtation and unwelcomed physical touch. Listen to their definitions of sexual assault and sexual misconduct. Define as a family what is considered criminal versus what is considered inappropriate. Then discuss how to handle both.

Always include both male and females in these conversations. Males are even less likely to report sexual abuse than females. Open the dialogue. Reduce the stigma, at least in your own home.

Families are as sick as their secrets and as healthy as their dialogue. Let your children know you can handle what they have to say. You can listen. You can respond in a firm and rational way. If not, they are not likely to come to you with a report of abuse. If you find that this is a subject you simply cannot breech with your children, talk with someone about why. Unresolved issues of a parent’s own sexual abuse can lead to the cycle continuing because it has become a taboo subject.

It is not uncommon for the same family member or community person that abused the parent to also abuse their child. The damage will have lifelong consequences by never reporting or revealing the assault. Abuse can become a multigenerational issue that leads to increasingly severe mental health damage.
However, there is a wide range of what is considered a reportable offense. It’s a new era. Sexual misconduct is in the media and out in the open more than ever.

These tips are for parents of adolescent and adult children.
– Open a discussion with your adolescent and adult children. Ask them to teach you what they know about the #metoo movement. In a discussion with my own son, I stated there were things we just learned to put up with, the “lighter” offenses. He said his generation doesn’t think you should have had to; therefore, we have the #timesup movement. Made sense. I liked it. I learned something.

– Be open and be honest with your children.

– People can’t recover from what has not been uncovered.

– The difference between a victim and a survivor is a victim still has an open wound, a survivor has healed and carries the scar. No shame in carrying a scar-Jesus didn’t hide his and neither should we. Scars show trauma has healed.

– If child abuse prevention is a subject you simply cannot talk about with your children, talk with someone about your own experiences. We must break the cycle.

– If not now, when. If you keep putting off these discussions, they will never happen.

Adult survivors of sexual abuse are as high as 20% of the general population. Be mindful how you discuss child sexual abuse when in the general public, you are likely to be within ear shot of someone who has suffered and survived one of the most devastating offenses to ones mental, social, sexual and spiritual development.

“To help heal the world, start with your own family.” – St. Mother Teresa

(Reba J. McMellon, M.S. is a licensed professional counselor with 35 years of experience. She continues to work in the field of mental health as a consultant and is available for public speaking. Reba can be reached at rebaj@bellsouth.net.)

KNEADING FAITH
By Fran Lavelle
The Synod on Synodality is forming and informing the work of the diocese as we continue to recover from the pandemic. Being a self-confessed overthinker, the implications about what we are hearing has my mind and heart working overtime. Yes, I am at the point of sleeping with a notepad next to the bed to write things down in the middle of the night lest I forget them by morning. There is much work to be done for sure. While our process has highlighted the challenges facing the church, it has also revealed a great hope that is palatable but energizing and exciting.

Our Synod Advisory Council spent a Saturday last month combing through the individual responses from the parishes. A common thread throughout the responses be it Anglo, Hispanic, African American, or youth is a call for unity and healing. Literally the Body of Christ is suffering from divisiveness and indifference toward the other. The question remains, how do we come back together under the four marks of the church – One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic? It is a behemoth task, but it can and must be undertaken for the good of all God’s people.

In our regional listening sessions with Bishop Kopacz, we have been asking people to give us concrete ideas on how we can truly heal and restore unity.

Sometimes in the United States we can be a little egocentric and not see life beyond our borders. One of the things that Covid revealed was the culture of dualistic thinking and divisive political rhetoric is not unique to the U.S. This culture of dis-unity has permeated the globe. We can all point fingers or become armchair sociologist in offering explanations on how we got here. To a degree I think reflecting on the question of how we got here is helpful in discerning how we move on from here, but we cannot allow the question of how we got here further divide us with blame.

The call for unity and healing can be achieved if we truly recognize and understand the dignity of all people. If we believe that we were created in the image and likeness of God, then we all share the dignity given to God’s children. At one of the regional listening sessions a young boy aged 8-9 came up to me after the session was over to turn in his paperwork. After thanking him he turned and walked away. I glanced down at the paper he handed me. In response to how we can foster healing and unity he wrote, “To love and to respect and to forgive. We should be loving people.” This young boy understands with great clarity our mission to heal and unite takes love, respect, and forgiveness.

One of the Gospel readings from the local listening sessions was the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37). We all know the story. But do we really know the story? (Pope Francis, Fratelli Tutti, paragraph 81)

Pope Francis underscores the point of the parable, “By approaching and making himself present, he crossed all cultural and historical barriers. Jesus concludes the parable by saying: “Go and do likewise” (Luke 10:37). In other words, he challenges us to put aside all differences and, in the face of suffering, to draw near to others with no questions asked. I should no longer say that I have neighbors to help, but that I must myself be a neighbor to others.”

In responding to the question of what the Holy Spirit is calling us to in this reading, one high school student responded beautifully, “The good Samaritan ignored the social differences between himself and the victim in the name of mercy. This is the mindset we should have today.”

It can feel somewhat overwhelming when we consider the multitude of challenges that face our world today. It is easy to feel small and insignificant. Many people pass by the victim on the road. It only takes one person to stop and show compassion. I am reminded of an oft noted quote by Edward Everett Hale, “I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do.”

He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. How are we being called to pour oil and wine into the wounds of our neighbors? That is the question before us today. I think my young friend from the listening session framed our response beautifully … Loving. Respecting. Forgiving.

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

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
They shall look upon the one whom they have pierced! A phrase that names the voice that’s left behind on Good Friday.

In 1981, an anonymous young girl was brutally raped and murdered by the military at an obscure location in El Salvador, fittingly called La Cruz (the Cross). Her story was reported by a journalist named Mark Danner. In his account of this, Danner describes how after a particular massacre some soldiers shared how one of their victims haunted them and how they could not get her out of their minds long after her death.

They had plundered a village and raped many of the women. One of these was a young girl, an evangelical Christian, whom they had raped many times in a single afternoon and tortured. However, throughout it all, this young girl, clinging to her belief in Christ, had sung hymns. The soldiers who had violated and eventually executed her were haunted by that. Here are Danner’s words:

“She kept right on singing, too, even after they had done what had to be done and shot her in the chest. She had lain there on La Cruz with the blood flowing from her chest and had kept on singing – a bit weaker than before, but still singing. And the soldiers, stupefied, had watched and pointed. Then they had grown tired of the game and shot her again, and she sang still, and their wonder began to turn to fear – until finally they had unsheathed their machetes and hacked her neck, and at last the singing had stopped.” (The Massacre at El Mozote, N.Y., Vintage Books, 1994, pp. 78-79.)

They shall look upon her whom they have pierced! Notice the feminine pronoun here because in this instance the one who is looked upon after being pierced is a woman. Dying such a violent, unjust, and humiliating death with faith in her heart and on her lips makes her the crucified Christ, and not just because she (like all Christians) is a member of the Body of Christ. Rather because at this moment, in this manner of death, with this kind of faith overt in her person, like Jesus, she is leaving behind a voice that cannot be silenced and which will haunt those who have done violence to her and all the rest of us who hear about it.

What haunted those soldiers? The haunting here is not that of some wounded spirit that now seeks retribution by frightening us and forever unsettling our dreams. Nor is it the haunting we feel in bitter regret, when we recognize a huge, unredeemable mistake which had we foreseen the consequences of, we would never have made. Rather, this is the voice that haunts us whenever we silence, violate, or kill innocence. It’s a voice which we then know can never be silenced and which irrespective of the immediate emotions it evokes in us, we realize we can never be free from, and which paradoxically invites us not to fear and self-hatred but to what it embodies.

Gil Bailie, who makes this story a corner-piece in his monumental book on the cross and non-violence, notes not just the remarkable similarity between her manner of death and Jesus’, but also the fact that, in both cases, part of the resurrection is that their voices live on.

In Jesus’ case, nobody witnessing his humiliating death on a lonely hillside, with his followers absent, would have predicted that this would be the most remembered death in history. The same is true for this young girl. Her rape and murder occurred in a very remote place and all of those who might have wanted to immortalize her story were also killed. Yet her voice survives, and will no doubt continue to grow in history long after all those who violated her are forgotten. A death of this kind morally scars the conscience and leaves behind a permanent echo that nobody can ever silence.

When we parse out all that’s contained in that echo, when we take a reflective look at Jesus on the cross or at the death of this young evangelical, we cannot but feel a wound at a gut level. To gaze upon the one whom we have pierced, Jesus or any innocent victim, is to know (in a way that undercuts all culpable and invincible ignorance) that the voice of self-interest, injustice, violence, brutality, and rape will ultimately be silenced in favor of the voice of innocence, graciousness and gentleness. Yes, faith is true.

A critic reviewing Danner’s book in the New York Times tells how, after reading this story, he kept “straining hopelessly to hear the sound of that singing.”

In our churches on Good Friday, we read aloud the Gospel account of Jesus’ death. Listening to that story, like the soldiers who brutally murdered an innocent young, faith-filled woman, we are made to look upon the one whom we have pierced. We need to strain to hear more consciously the sound of that singing.

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

THINGS OLD AND NEW
By Ruth Powers

The Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday celebrates one of the central beliefs of the Catholic Church: that Christ is totally, physically present in bread and wine of the Eucharist. The appearance remains that of bread and wine, but the essence becomes Christ through His gift to us at the consecration of the Mass. This was the belief from the very earliest days of the church, as attested in the letters of St. Paul; and from this belief grew the practice of treating the consecrated bread and wine with special reverence since it is, after all, Jesus himself.

The practice of reserving the Blessed Sacrament outside of Mass has a long history in the church. In the earliest centuries, the purpose was to reserve it to take to the sick and dying, as described by St. Justin Martyr and Tertullian. However, once Christianity was legalized and worship could be public, there is reference to reserving part of it in special containers for adoration outside of Mass. St. Basil the Great is described as reserving a part of the Eucharist in a container shaped like a dove in a description from A.D. 379. As Christianity spread throughout Europe, churches began to be built with tabernacles on or above the altar for the reservation of the consecrated bread although there is little specific mention of specific practices for adoration.

In 1079 Pope Gregory VII began something of a “Eucharistic Renaissance” in Europe when he issued a statement affirming the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist after a prominent cleric had denied it. From this time forward, we see the development of Eucharistic processions, special acts of adoration, encouragement of visits to the church to adore the Blessed Sacrament in the tabernacle and a renewed emphasis on adoration by members of religious orders. Members of the Benedictine order in France and England took the lead in promoting adoration there while St. Francis of Assisi is credited with introducing the practice in Italy. The host began to be elevated at the consecration of the Mass so that people could adore (the elevation of the chalice came later, after the Council of Trent).

In 1264, Pope Urban IV instituted the feast of Corpus Christi in recognition of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. The great theologian St. Thomas Aquinas wrote the text and hymns for the Mass and the Office of the feast, some of which are still in use today like Panis Angelicus, Pange Lingua, Tantum Ergo, and O Salutaris Hostia. Around this same time, we begin to see the devotion that would come to be known later as Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament, where the Eucharist is exposed for adoration for a time and then used to bless the people. By the 15th century, elaborate containers for exposition of the Eucharist, called monstrances, became popular.

In the wake of the Protestant Reformation, the Council of Trent emphasized the Real Presence in response to Protestant insistence that the Eucharist was only symbolic. The Council declared that Eucharistic adoration was a form of latria, or worship of God. The Council further stated that “the Sacrament, therefore, is to be honored with extraordinary festive celebrations (and) solemnly carried from place to place in processions according to the praiseworthy universal rite and custom of the holy church. The Sacrament is to be publicly exposed for the people’s adoration.” Growing from this pronouncement was the practice of “Forty Hours” where continuous prayer and meditation is made for forty continuous hours before the exposed Eucharist. Some religious orders also performed perpetual adoration, where the Eucharist was exposed 24 hours a day and someone was always in prayer before it. By the 18th century, promotion of quiet personal visits to churches to pray before the Blessed Sacrament, called Holy Hours, were being promoted by saints such as Alphonsus Ligouri and Benedict Joseph Labre. St. Alphonsus explained that a visit to the Blessed Sacrament is the practice of loving Jesus since friends who love each other visit frequently.

After a brief decline in the early 19th century, Eucharistic devotions became popular again in the late 19th through the mid-20th centuries. Eucharistic Congresses, large meetings to promote devotion to Christ in the Eucharist, became popular events. Unfortunately, both understanding of and devotion to the Eucharist has declined precipitously in recent years. A 2020 Pew Research study found that more than two-thirds of Catholics, including those who attend Mass regularly, do not believe that Christ is truly present in the Eucharist! They believe it is only a symbol. Because of this decline in the understanding and devotion to Christ in the Blessed Sacrament, the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops has begun a three year plan to focus on the Eucharist and has declared a “Year of the Eucharist” beginning on the Feast of Corpus Christi this year. The focus period will culminate in a national Eucharistic Congress in 2024 in Indianapolis, Indiana. Spend some time in the upcoming months renewing or deepening your faith in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist.

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

On Ordinary Times
By Lucia A. Silecchia

It is likely that, for many, a significant number of favorite family photos are snapped around a dinner table.

Among the most joyful of those photos are the ones in which there are new faces around that table – when marriages, births, engagements, adoptions, friendships, and the bonds of neighborliness draw more people, with love, into the family circle.

Some of the saddest of those photos are the ones in which loved ones are missing. Perhaps death parted them from their families. Perhaps ill health, travel difficulties, competing obligations, work responsibilities, military deployments, canceled flights, limited funds, divorce or other estrangements kept others away. Whatever the reasons, absence brings sadness or emptiness in its wake.

Then, there are the bittersweet family photos. These are the ones in which there are both new faces and missing loved ones. These are the ones when there are new people drawn into the heart of the family’s love at the same time that others, also beloved, are not there.

I have been thinking about this as I anticipate the Easter season, soon to be upon us.

At the great Vigil of Easter, new sisters and brothers in Christ will join us, fully, around the table of the Lord when we will worship together with that special joy that comes when new members of the family are with us. For months, we have prayed for our catechumens and candidates; for weeks we have met them through the scrutinies of Lent; for much of the past year they have joined us in our parish life, in eager anticipation of the Baptisms, Confirmations and First Holy Communions of Eastertide. As is true of any family, the joy of welcoming new members and gathering to celebrate the Eucharist with them for the first time and after is a source of great happiness and celebration.

Yet, this joy may be a bit bittersweet if there are also loved ones missing from our celebrations – loved ones who will not be with their parish families for the great celebrations of Easter and beyond.
Some, certainly, have been separated by death. The realities of this have been particularly painful these past two years as the shadow of mortality has been on the minds of many. For those who have passed from this life, may God bless you as you journey on your way to your true home.

But so many others are missing from our parish communities for myriad reasons that are as unique as they are. It may be that they cannot physically come to Mass – or can only come with the assistance of others that may be hard to find. It may be that they are burdened by the exhausting challenges of demanding jobs, young children, long hours, or over commitments to other things – even other things that are good. It may be a hurt, pain or bad memory that keeps some afar. For others it may be a single time when a lack of hospitality or an unkind word was just enough to turn them away.

It may be that because our fast-paced world does not value Sabbath rest as it once did, there is pressure to use Sunday as a catch-up day before a new week begins. It may be a lack of opportunities to learn about the faith – and the difficulty that it is to love what is unknown or misunderstood. It may be the deep struggle of wrestling with a challenging teaching or practice of the Church. It may be guilt about a past mistake, the convenience of viewing Mass on-line, fear of close contacts, or a language barrier that makes participation difficult. It may be disillusionment engendered by scandal or bad example. It may be pressure from friends or family hostile to or skeptical about faith. It may be grief about something so deep it has shaken faith to its core. It may be a million other things known only to God.

But, the gatherings of our faith communities are poorer whenever someone, anyone, is missing – just as our own families are poorer in the absence of a loved one.

Maybe, as the Easter season comes, it can beckon each of us to think of one person we know who might be missing from our parish celebrations. We may know that person well, or casually; we may know why he or she is away, or we may not; we may have wise words of wisdom to share, or, more than likely, we may not.

But, as spring comes, as Covid-19 wanes, and as the greatest celebration of the Christian year arrives, this may be the perfect opportunity to invite someone to join us – not just for the Easter season, but also for the ordinary times to follow. There is no substitute for a personal invitation. Christ, after all, called each of His apostles, individually, by name. This Easter season may give us the chance to call someone by name to join us as our family gathers again to celebrate the Resurrection of Christ.
The joy of welcoming our new brothers and sisters will be so much sweeter if our churches are filled with the whole family that welcomes them.

To my new sisters and brothers in Christ – welcome! To my returning sisters and brothers in Christ – welcome back! May God bless us all as we journey together through the joys of Easter, as a family together now and in ordinary times.

God bless you and yours as Lent gives way to Easter.

(Lucia A. Silecchia is a Professor of Law at the Columbus School of Law at the Catholic University of America.)