Amor por aprender unió a Santo Tomás Moro y a hermana Thea Bowman

Ambos, Tomás Moro, santo y mártir, y la hermana Thea Bowman, sierva de Dios y profeta de nuestro tiempo, tenían un profundo amor por el aprendizaje. Ambos pusieron su erudición al servicio de sus hermanos y hermanas mientras testificaban del amor eterno del Señor Jesús.

Por Obispo Joseph R. Kopacz, D.D.
Durante el tiempo en que la Diócesis de Jackson se estaba preparando para presentar la Causa de Canonización de la Hermana Thea Bowman en 2018, descubrí que ella había hecho su tesis doctoral en la Universidad Católica de Washington, DC sobre la obra maestra final de San Tomas Moro mientras estuvo encarcelado durante 15 meses, en la Torre de Londres, antes de su ejecución.
Hay más de unas pocas bendiciones en este descubrimiento, y una, en particular, es celebrar la universalidad de la Iglesia Católica. Un inglés preeminente del siglo XVI, que había alcanzado las alturas de las profesiones legales y políticas de su tiempo antes de convertirse en santo y mártir, santo Tomas Moro, capturó la imaginación de una Sierva de Dios del siglo XX, la hermana Thea Bowman.
En la edición anterior de Mississippi Catholic, presentamos la causa de la hermana Thea a través del lente del documental que se está haciendo, con lanzamiento en otoño de 2022. En esta columna, presento la lente de su tesis doctoral para mostrar su erudición, que impregnó su voz carismática y profética.
¿Cuál es el vínculo que unió a estos dos discípulos del Señor Jesús durante un período de 400 a 500 años? El abogado inglés murió en 1535 y la religiosa nació en 1937. Se necesitan algunos antecedentes históricos para preparar el escenario.
Tomás Moro fue un confidente y compañero favorito del rey Enrique VIII hasta que se negó a prestar el Juramento de Lealtad al Rey, en el que este se declaraba a sí mismo como el jefe de la Iglesia Católica en Inglaterra. La negativa de Moro le valió alojarse en la Torre de Londres durante 15 meses, pero su encarcelamiento no fue una pérdida de tiempo.
En la primavera – verano de 1534, mientras esperaba en la Torre su juicio formal y sentencia, Moro comenzó a escribir “Diálogo de Consuelo contra la Tribulación.” Escribió Diálogo para conmover y preparar las mentes de los ingleses para resistir con valentía y no amedrentarse ante la inminente y abierta persecución que Moro previó y que inmediatamente siguió contra la unidad de la Iglesia y la fe católica.

Obispo Joseph R. Kopacz

Cuando Tomás Moro estaba en la Torre de Londres, los monasterios aún estaban intactos, miembros de la Iglesia Católica todavía eran honrados y la persecución generalizada aún no había empezado. Sin embargo, el conocía mucho más a Enrique VIII que la mayoría de los hombres. También conocía muy bien el mundo político y su lucha por el poder y la riqueza, por eso previó lo que sobrevendría. Su juicio formal, condena y sentencia, el 1 de julio de 1535, proporcionó al foro público el afirmar que el tema que más le preocupaba era la usurpación, por parte del rey, de la autoridad papal. Moro escribió su última carta a su hija Margaret el 5 de julio. El 6 de julio fue decapitado, no porque lo obligaran a renunciar a su fe en Jesucristo, sino porque esta fe estaba inextricablemente implantada en la Iglesia Católica.
Moro murió en la pobreza física y la desgracia mundana. En “Diálogo de Consuelo contra la Tribulación,” dejó su último testamento y el legado final de su sabiduría. Siguiendo el ejemplo de Jesús en la Última Cena, cuando consoló a sus apóstoles anticipándose a la tribulación que seguiría con su crucifixión, este intrépido mártir entendió el poder de las palabras como un legado duradero cuando se este se combina con un testimonio.
La hermana Thea sacó de los estantes de la academia “Diálogo de Consuelo contra la Tribulación,” para darle nueva vida a una obra maestra, cuyas páginas aún nos llegan, instando a soluciones duraderas a problemas humanos perennemente recurrentes, según afirmó al final de su tesis en 1972.
A su trabajo académico lo tituló “La relación entre patetismo y estilo en ‘Diálogo de Consuelo contra la Tribulación,’ un estudio retórico”. Este se convirtió en su exitoso proyecto de doctorado para elevar el pathos (patetismo) a los reinos del logos (Palabra de Dios, o principio de razón divina o segunda persona de la Trinidad encarnada en Jesucristo) y el espíritu.
Ella sostuvo que “El intento de More de llegar a las necesidades de su audiencia, de alcanzar a sus corazones al igual que a sus mentes, de encender su imaginación con imágenes del sufrimiento de Cristo, demonios aulladores, almas condenadas, o el cuidado protector de Dios, y deleitarlos para hacerlos más receptivos a su mensaje, es consciente y deliberado. Pathos, el esfuerzo por despertar las emociones de sus oyentes, determina en gran medida el carácter distintivo del Dialogo.”
La hermana Thea, además, afirmó “Moro yuxtapone gráficamente el bien y el mal, el placer y el dolor, la vida y la muerte. Compara las alegrías y las tristezas temporales con aquellas que son eternas. Se detiene en la crueldad del monarca, la locura de la vanidad mundana, la vergüenza de la deslealtad, el miedo al infierno, la esperanza de salvación y, sobre todo, el amor de un Cristo sufriente y un Dios providente. Ofrece la posibilidad de elegir entre la fidelidad a Dios y la pérdida de los bienes temporales y la sumisión al rey a riesgo de la salvación eterna.”
Ambos, Tomás Moro, santo y mártir, y la hermana Thea Bowman, sierva de Dios y profeta de nuestro tiempo, tenían un profundo amor por el aprendizaje. Ambos pusieron su erudición al servicio de sus hermanos y hermanas mientras testificaban del amor eterno del Señor Jesús.
Ambos ofrecieron consuelo y aliento para superar la tribulación y en sus horas más brillantes y oscuras, no flaquearon. Ambos vivieron hasta que murieron y luego se fueron a casa como una estrella fugaz. Son parte de esa Nube de Testigos que enseñan e inspiran en cada generación dentro de la Iglesia Católica y mucho más allá de sus estructuras visibles.

Called by Name

Each September the National Conference of Diocesan Vocation Directors (NCDVD) convenes for a series of talks and workshops to help priests like me. One presentation that stood out was entitled “The Priests We Need Today,” which was delivered by Dr. Edward Sri.

Dr. Sri is a well-known theologian but, in this presentation, he spoke from his perspective as a husband and a father. He encouraged us as vocation directors to help our seminarians become missionary disciples. We do not need priests who are going to sit behind a desk and lead in abstract ways. Pope Francis is clearly calling priests to “go out,” and encounter those who may find themselves on the “outside looking in.”

 Dr. Sri also reminded us that witnesses are much more effective than teachers in this day and age. We can eloquently explain the faith in a homily, but if we are not living like Jesus none of our words will have any weight. Dr. Sri asked us to train men who “live out of their own encounter with God’s word.” He also asked us to form seminarians who are excellent spiritual fathers because they know their people. He provided the example of Pope John Paul II who spent so much time encountering young people, married couples, and all of his parishioners as a priest and continued to do so as a bishop and finally as pope.

Father Nick Adam
Father Nick Adam

So, how are we going to do this? That’s the question that popped into my head as I listened to Dr. Sri. Well, we are doing some great things already. I’ve told you about our Quo Vadis Young Men’s Retreat this past summer. That was great as our seminarians got to take leadership roles and mentor the men who participated. Several of our seminarians are a part of relief efforts on the Gulf Coast in the aftermath of Hurricane Ida. All of our seminarians are encouraged to take an active role in the seminary communities that they live in. I rejoice when I see our seminarians cultivating meaningful relationships with parishioners and families that they meet on their summer assignments and at other times as they visit parishes and get to know the diocese, and I believe that this is where our formation program needs to continue to grow. I am working with Bishop Kopacz, the Chancery staff and priests in our parishes to help give our seminarians more opportunities to know you and to minister to you. The only way they can discern whether or not they are called to be a missionary priest in this missionary diocese is to get practice, and so this is what I need to facilitate as vocation director.

  Thank you for your continued support of our men. I hope you are able to attend our 2nd Annual Homegrown Harvest Festival which will be held on Oct. 2, 2021. All proceeds from this event will go toward helping our seminarians become the missionary disciples the church needs and toward finding more men and women who desire to follow the Lord’s call to priesthood and religious life. You can log onto one.bidpal.net/homegrownharvest2021 to sponsor the event or buy individual tickets. Or call me at (601) 969-4020 if you have any questions. God bless you all for your commitment to your faith and to the church.

The fading of forgiveness

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
In a recent issue of Comment Magazine, Timothy Keller, theologian and pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City, wrote an insightful essay entitled, The Fading of Forgiveness, within which he highlights how, more and more, forgiveness is being seen as a weakness and a naivete.

He begins by pointing to a couple of highly publicized incidents of forgiveness. In 2015, Dylann Roof shot nine members inside an African American church in South Carolina and was publicly forgiven by the relatives of his victims. And in 2006, when a gunman shot ten Amish children in a school room in Pennsylvania and then killed himself, the Amish community there not only forgave him, they went to visit his family and expressed sympathies to them for their loss. What was the general response? Admiration for extraordinary selflessness and virtue? No, not that. More generally, these instances of forgiveness were judged as naïve fundamentalism and as unhelpful. Why? Why would these instances not be recognized instead both for what is most noble within humanity and for what is highest within religious virtue?

Keller suggests that there are a number of reasons for this, but he singles out two in particular. We are a “therapeutic culture” (where only our own truth and feelings matter) and a culture that has a “religion without grace” (its vision and virtue go no further than what echoes in our emotions and willpower). Hence, our culture sees forgiveness more negatively than positively. For it, forgiveness allows oppression to maintain its power and thus permits the cycle of violence and abuse to go on. Like a family refusing to stand up to an alcoholic member, it enables rather than stops the abuse and allows a sick situation to continue. Forgiveness then is a further injustice to the one who has been violated and can lead to a form of self-loathing, an acceptance of a humiliation destructive of one’s self-image, a further loss of dignity. Moreover, the moral pressure to forgive can be a further burden on the victim and an easy escape for the perpetrator. Is this logic correct?

Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

From a purely emotional point of view, yes, it feels right; but it is wrong when scrutinized more deeply. First, it is evident that vindictiveness will only produce more vindictiveness. Vindictiveness will never soften a heart and help change it. Only forgiveness (analogous to dialysis) can take violence and hatred out of a relationship. As well, in the words of Martin Luther King, anyone devoid of the power of forgiveness is also devoid of the power of love. Why? Because each of us will get hurt by others and will hurt others in every one of our relationships. That is the price of community inside human inadequacy. Hence, relationships at every level, personal and social, can only sustain themselves long term if there is forgiveness.

Moreover, with Jesus, forgiveness becomes singularly the most important of all virtues. It decides whether we go to heaven or not. As Jesus tells us when he gives us the Lord’s Prayer, if we cannot forgive others, God will not be able to forgive us. Why? Because the banquet table, eternal community of life, is only open to everyone who is willing to sit down with everyone. God cannot change this. Only we can open our hearts sufficiently to sit down with everyone.

Recently, given some of our ecclesial infighting, various groups have attempted to single out one specific moral issue as a litmus test for Christian discipleship. For many, this litmus test is abortion; others pick church attendance or some other issue. What might serve as a litmus test for Christian discipleship? Precisely this: the willingness to forgive. Can I forgive someone who has wronged me? Can I forgive someone whom I hate and who hates me? That challenge lies most central in Jesus’ teaching.

That being said, it must also be said that forgiveness is not simple or easy. That is why in the Judeo-Christian spirituality of Sabbath, there is a (too-little-known) spirituality of forgiveness. As we know, the command to celebrate Sabbath asks us to honor this cycle in our lives: Work for six days – rest for one day. Work for seven years – rest for one year. Work of seven times seven (forty-nine) years – have a major rest (sabbatical). Work for a lifetime – and then be on sabbatical for eternity.

Well that is also the cycle for forgiveness. In the spirituality of Sabbath: You may hold a minor grudge for six days – then you need let it go. You may hold a major grudge for seven years – then you need to let it go. You may hold a soul-searing grudge for forty-nine years – then you need to let it go. You may hold a grudge that ruined your life until your deathbed – then you need to let it go. That is the final Christian moral imperative.

Desmond Tutu once said, “without forgiveness there is no future.” True – on both sides of eternity.

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

Praying with the church

SPIRIT AND TRUTH
By Father Aaron Williams

The Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy published by the Second Vatican Council (Sacrosanctum Concilium) does not restrict itself solely to a consideration of the Holy Mass. The celebration of the Divine Office (i.e., the ‘Liturgy of the Hours’) is also given a special place, and the vision outlined by the Council Fathers in this regard is one that still has yet to be fully achieved.

The Divine Office is the daily prayer of the Church as found in the Roman Breviary — which is most commonly understood as the prayer book used by priests and religious doing the day. The celebration of the Office finds its roots in Jewish temple prayer, when the Levitical choir would chant the psalms daily at set hours of the day. St. Luke records in Acts that the Apostles themselves continued this practice, three times mentioning that they went to the temple at the hour of prayer. The early Christians maintained this practice, gradually developing our own tradition of the Office until around the sixth century when the most popularized version of the Office was finalized in the Rule of St. Benedict. This version is still in use today in many monasteries across the globe. As time went on, Diocesan priests began to slowly form their own usage of the Office, using the Monastic offices as a guideline. This form of the Office became known as the ‘Cathedral Office’ or, more commonly, the ‘Roman Breviary.’

Father Aaron Williams

Recognizing the strain put on priests in our present day by the lack of clergy and by the fast-paced nature of modern society, the Fathers of the Second Vatican Council sought to simplify the Breviary so make the Office more approachable for priests and religious today, but a second goal was to give the laity an opportunity to join in praying the Office as well. In fact, Sacrosanctum Concilium directs parish priests to see that the chief hours of the Office, especially on Sunday, are publicly celebrated in parishes in addition to the celebration of the Mass (Cf. 100). Regrettably, only a handful of parishes on a national level ever offer even a single celebration of the Divine Office during the year.

But many people who have attended the celebration of one or more offices have experienced the calming feeling that comes from the chanting of the psalter, and the rhythm of following a cycle of prayer in union with the other people present and the church at large. In fact, the Office has historically had such an effect on the laity who attend, that many of the Protestant reformers were insistent at maintaining some form of the Divine Office in their own prayer books precisely so that it could be celebrated and chanted publicly.

In the United States, perhaps the greatest example of the Protestant prayer book office is found at St. Thomas Fifth Avenue Episcopal Church in New York City. The choir of men and boys at St. Thomas chant the Anglican form of the Divine Office on four days of the week, which for many years was broadcast over the radio and, in light of the COVID-19 pandemic, is now video live-streamed and available on-demand. Even though their office is a reduced form of the Catholic office to which I am bound to pray as a priest, for nearly six years I have found great comfort in listening to their chanted offices several times during the week, which is often accompanied by stellar preaching.

Despite the work that still needs to be done in order to accomplish their vision of the Council Fathers, already there are several resources available to assist Catholics in praying the Liturgy of the Hours along with the rest of the church. Apart from buying an expensive four-volume book set, the Divine Office is also available in an app format from iBreviary, Divine Office, or Universalis. The makers of Divine Office also record the office daily which can be listened as a podcast. Another podcast available is called ‘Praystation Portable’, which is better for people with less time because the entire office is recited rather than sung. The of the Abbaye Sainte-Madeleine du Barroux in France also produce a podcast for all their offices which are sung in traditional Gregorian chant in Latin. Because of the time differences between here and France, the Offices are always available well-ahead of time. Our seminarians in New Orleans also video live-stream their celebration of Sunday Vespers each Sunday evening at 5 p.m. via the Notre Dame Seminary Facebook page.

Likewise, in addition to the live-stream of the Episcopal office at St. Thomas Fifth Avenue, there is a Catholic counterpart to the traditional Anglican offices which was put together following a move by Pope Benedict XVI to give Catholic converts the ability to maintain some of their devotional heritage. This reduced office is very approachable for those without time to pray several offices during the day, and also includes longer passages from scripture, making the office a good way to also read through the Bible. This office available at prayer.convert.org.

(Father Aaron Williams is the Parochial Vicar at St. Patrick Parish in Meridian.)

In the face of division, turn to the Eucharist

Guest column
By Mary Marrocco (CNS)

It can be difficult these days not to become crabby, bitter and divisive. Every day, we receive so much that frightens or angers us, and seems to threaten our very being.

Recently, I encountered a woman named Joanna. She was wondering what to do about a spate of messages that were written and posted about her in big bold letters, calling her mean and nasty. Her eyes were wide; she was hurt and scared. Understandable reactions, given that slander is both hurtful and dangerous.

Joanna, seeing such messages with her name on them, could have become what she received: nasty, mean and cowardly. Here are symptoms of a virus that has far more variants than alpha and delta; a virus contagious and deadly, that’s been around since Adam and Eve bit into the fruit they were warned not to taste.

How could Joanna avoid becoming what she received, and passing it on to others?

St. Augustine of Hippo observed that humans become what we receive. He had great respect for the power of habit to influence and change us, for the worse or for the better. He saw the goodness and beauty at the core of every person, and the ugliness we are capable of and are frequently marred by.

The fundamental antidote, for him, was always the same: Receive the sacraments. Receive the Eucharist. Become what you receive. He saw that Communion is not something we do, make or are capable of; it’s something we receive and become. And that “something” is not ugly or nasty, but godly.

So what changes when we receive Communion? We do. We are changed in the twinkling of an eye (1 Cor 15:52) and we are changed little by little, as water drops on rock carved out Niagara Falls. We are changed, not into something else, but to our true selves. “Be what you see; receive what you are.” (Sermon 272 of Augustine)

This is communion. This is what we are made for: communion with God and each other. Nevertheless, we have trouble getting there – even when we try – and more trouble still when we stop trying or head the other way.

This is our real work: communion. The secret is, it is not a work but a gift. We can work against it, of course, like the writer of the false messages about Joanna. We will not be able to destroy it, but we can harm ourselves.

Fortunately, even when we inflict self-harm, God remains imbued in it all, urging us from within. “From your presence, where can I flee?” (Ps 139:7) As Augustine observed, we have hope because God is not changeable, but we are. “We will all be changed.” (1 Cor 15:51)

Someone told me recently that while alone in her room praying for a friend who is dying, she had a sudden sense of being not alone at all but surrounded by others who have died and live. She realized, joyfully, that she was in a crowded room: the communion of saints.

If Eve, when offered the fruit, had dug deep and found her anger toward the serpent for urging it on her, she might have had the energy to say, “No thank you,” or “Get behind me, Adversary (Satan).” Perhaps she and Adam would have got along better, and the whole human race after them. If we are able to focus our anger on the real Adversary, we might learn to find each other instead of harm each other.

But how? Another secret: We can’t, but Christ can. And because Christ can, therefore we can. In receiving the Eucharist, we receive all Christ is, completely given, nothing held back. We become what we long to be, though we might be only dimly aware of our longing.

Joanna too had a secret, which I happened to know by fortuitous accident. Just the week before the mean messages were posted, I heard a homily reminding us participants how good it is to be together at Eucharist, taking in the beauty and joy and gift of God. But that means we don’t go home and leave it all “at church;” we must bring it with us, into the world. That is “Mass,” being “sent.”

Hearing this homily, I recalled that as I’d arrived at church that morning, Joanna was arriving too. She stopped and told me her concern about a man down the street who asked her for food. “I see him often, but he doesn’t usually ask for breakfast on Sunday morning,” she explained.

She immediately went, got him breakfast, and came back into church just as liturgy was beginning. Yes, the same Joanna who later had the nasty messages posted about her.

Who are we becoming? Let us receive the gift of God himself. Let us become what we receive.

Many voices, now more than ever, are trying to distract and fool us and keep us apart. As my spiritual father liked to say: Keep the focus.

(Marrocco can be reached at marrocco7@sympatico.ca)

Bishop Gunn chronicled experience during 1918 influenza pandemic and end of world war

From the Archives
By Mary Woodward
JACKSON – Rev. John Edward Gunn, a Marist priest and native of County Tyrone, Ireland, was appointed the sixth Bishop of Natchez by Pope Pius X in 1911. He was ordained a bishop at Sacred Heart Church in Atlanta where he was serving at the time on August 29 of that year.

Bishop Gunn was known as a brilliant orator and for having tremendous energy. He cultivated the diocese’s relationship with Catholic Extension to help in the building of chapels throughout the state. By the time of his death in 1924, almost every Catholic in Mississippi was able to reach one of these chapels for Mass at least once a month. Catholic churches grew from 75 to 149 during his administration, and Catholics grew in number from 17,000 to more than 31,000.

He also helped found St. Augustine Seminary with the Society of the Divine Word in Greenville for the formation of African American clergy in 1923. The seminary later moved to Bay St. Louis.

It is rumored that Bishop Gunn preferred Pass Christian to Natchez and had hoped to move the diocesan offices there.

Bishop Gunn’s 13 years of service to the Diocese were marked by the difficult four years of the first World War and the ravages of Spanish influenza.

ST. LOUIS – The St. Louis Red Cross Motor Corps are on duty in October 1918 during the influenza epidemic. Mary Woodward reveals an excerpt from Bishop John Edward Gunn’s diary chronicling his travels to St. Louis in November of 1918 during the Spanish flu pandemic. (Photo/Library of Congress, LC-DIG-ds-01290)

Not only was he a gifted orator, but he was a fine chronicler of daily life as is proven in his diary. From his diary we find an interesting entry from Nov. 8-10, 1918, that is very relevant to today’s pandemic atmosphere. It also contains a noteworthy bit of information about the end of the war.

“I left [Nov. 8] for St. Louis to assist at the consecration of the new Bishop of Galveston, Bishop Byrne. When I reached St. Louis, I got into the midst of the flu. Not only were the churches, schools, and public buildings closed but all the stores, soda water fountains and everything.”

“On Saturday night I walked the streets of St. Louis for more than an hour and could not buy a cigar and the question was – how could the consecration take place in St. Louis Cathedral on November 10th when it was forbidden to open a church door?”

“I went ‘round on Saturday night to see Archbishop Glennon and found Bishop Allen with him. The Archbishop seemed to take everything very quietly and said that it was forbidden to open the main door of the Cathedral but there were several other doors that were not officially closed, with the result that the consecration took place on Nov. 10. The crowd was small, the ceremonies were beautiful, the dinner was as heavy as the oratory and there was an atmosphere of unrest everywhere.”

“The papers were filled with the flu conditions of the country; the war conditions were reaching a climax, and everybody was on edge.”

“I left St. Louis on Sunday night [Nov. 10] and on my way home, at Fulton [Missouri], I thought that the world had come to an end. I was in the Pullman compartment when noise broke loose in the form of whistles, bells, bands and every kind of thing that could make a rattle and a screech at the time when ghosts are supposed to appear and graves yawn, etc.”

“It was occasioned by the fake news that had gone over the world that the Germans had signed the armistice. When the real news of the Armistice came nobody believed it.”

“I managed to get to New Orleans on the 11th and the city looked like the morning after Mardi Gras. The people had shouted themselves hoarse over the fake armistice and had no voice for the real one.”

Although WWI was a very complex time for those of Irish heritage due to British rule and treatment of them, the Bishop believed strongly in service to one’s country. “In life and death, I am proud of three things: my Irish birth, my Catholic faith, and my American citizenship,” he said. “I tried to translate my love for all three into service and sacrifice,” he wrote in his will.

NATCHEZ – In this photo from the archives, Bishop Joseph Latino visits the resting place of Bishop John Edward Gunn, on Catholic Hill in the Natchez City Cemetery. Bishop Gunn died in New Orleans on Feb. 19, 1924 and is buried beside his fellow Irishman Bishop Thomas Heslin. (Photo from archives)

Bishop Gunn died at Hospital Hotel Dieu in New Orleans on Feb. 19, 1924, and is buried beside his fellow Irishman Bishop Thomas Heslin on Catholic Hill in the Natchez City Cemetery. His portrait hangs in the dining room of the Cathedral rectory in Jackson. As in any good portrait, Bishop Gunn’s eyes follow you as you move through the room.

In his will the Bishop also wrote, “I believe in God. I believe all He has said because He said it and because His infallible Church heard Him and told me what He said. I love Him with my whole heart and soul and strength and for His sake I love others.”

Bishop Gunn’s diary is so rich that we will share some more gems from it in the future.

(Mary Woodward is Chancellor and Archivist for the Diocese of Jackson)

Our lives are labor of love in God

By Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz, D.D.
After God set the world in motion through the work of creation, he fashioned man and woman from the dust of the earth in the divine image and likeness and entrusted them with the task of developing this grand handiwork. Then and now, God intends that we not lose sight of his divine presence when we apply our talents to building a world that gives glory to the creator, dignity to human life everywhere and a profound awe for the beauty of our planet. For further motivation and inspiration, we, as disciples of the Son of God, recall the words of sacred scripture that proclaim, “for in him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible … all things were created through him and for him. (Colossians 1:15-17) Through faith we know that love is our origin, love is our constant calling and love is our fulfillment in heaven.

We also know that for as long as we live there is much to be done. Perhaps this Labor Day more than ever reminds us that throughout our lives the work of building and rebuilding is constant.

Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz

Recall the sobering yet hopeful words from St. Paul’s letter to the Romans. “We know that the whole creation has been groaning with labor pains together until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait for adoption as sons and daughters, the redemption of our bodies.” (Romans 8:19-23)

Are we ever groaning these days, as the pandemic grinds on in many corners of our society and world, whether it be over our children, academically and developmentally, or the loss of life and the suffering that ensues. Considerable rebuilding will be necessary.
Blessed Mother Teresa understood well the lifetime task of building a religious community to serve the dire needs of the present moment, and to endure for generations to come in a world where there are no guarantees. In a poem attributed to her entitled, “Anyway” she mused, “What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.”
Clearly, what she is saying is that when necessary, rebuild and create something better. We can apply her wisdom to the destructive drives inherent in humanity or to the overwhelming power of nature. It seems that wherever we turn, too many are caught between a rock and a hard place, Scylla and Charybdis, the rocky shoals or the churning whirlpool.

On the one hand, there is the destructive power of nature in the virus silently stalking, in raging fires, in howling hurricanes, in unforeseen flooding or in heaving earthquakes. On the other hand, destruction boils over from the abyss of human nature, alienated from our loving creator, in acts of violence, terrorism and war. What once was, is no more and people are pressed to choose. Look ahead and rebuild in one form or another or look backward and wallow in inertia. The Book of Ecclesiastes reminds us that in the cycle of living, “there is a time to break down, and a time to build up.” (3:3) As God’s children we want to be busy about living.

This weekend is the 20th anniversary of 9/11 that obliterated many lives, destroyed iconic structures, wreaked havoc upon our nation’s psyche, and unleashed a 20-year war whose official ending is still spilling blood. Indeed, all of creation groans. Yet, this crisis immediately revealed the goodness and courage of first responders and many others who put aside concern for self in the hope of rescuing their neighbor and the stranger. It took 14 years for the majestic One World Center to be built on the spot of the Twin Towers that were destroyed. It will take a lifetime or more for those who directly experienced this horror to heal. We pray that the work of reconciliation will never cease.

The Son of God, the one through whom and for whom all creation came to be, revealed life’s inevitable vulnerability on Calvary. Yet, on Easter Sunday the dawn from on high broke upon us and we who walk in the shadow of death, now walk by faith and labor with a purpose everyday of our lives, because Christ lives.

In the big questions about our lives and in our daily and familiar tasks, may we know that in God our lives are a labor of love, whether we are building something new with great confidence, or rebuilding in the face of loss. In the prologue of St. John, we know whence the power comes to regain our footing and our hope. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God, all things were made through him. In him was life, and the life was the light for all. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

Called by Name

A priest once told me that Vocation ministry is like watching a tree grow minute by minute; you don’t see immediate results, but that doesn’t mean the growth isn’t happening. That priest was Fr. Mark Shoffner, and he told me that just a couple of weeks ago!

Father Nick Adam
Father Nick Adam

I appreciated that agricultural analogy very much and have been reflecting on it ever since because it mirrors my experience as I look back on the last year of vocation promotion. We just sent out our new poster to parishes and schools in the diocese featuring the faces of our six seminarians, and while there are no new additions this year, there has certainly been growth in our program. I have been so appreciative of the prayers and support of people that I run into across the diocese who know what we are doing and are offering their support in whatever way they can. I look forward to reaching out in new ways in the coming weeks and months to these stakeholders. The awareness of our need for good men from our soil and the excitement that is building among our people is palpable, and I know that growth, though sometimes silent, is occurring.

We also do have our first candidate for women’s religious life from our diocese in quite some time entering formation right now! Ms. Kathleen McMullin has just departed to begin her formation with the Sisters of St. Francis of the Martyr St. George in Alton, Illinois. The mission of this order is to “make the merciful love of Christ visible.” They do this through working in healthcare and education across the world. Kathleen continues to be a great light in our diocese even though she is now a few hours away. Bishop Kopacz and I were honored to attend a “going-away” party hosted by some friends of the McMullins in the Jackson area, and it was really inspiring to see how much love and support she has as she witnesses to the call of Christ to religious life.

Please continue to pray for vocations and also encourage people who you believe may have a call. Don’t be afraid to tell them that you see gifts in them that could serve the Church well. You’d be surprised how many young people have never been encouraged to think about priesthood or religious life and therefore have never believed they were capable of it. I also remind you to please come to our 2nd Annual Homegrown Harvest Festival on October 2nd at St. Paul’s in Flowood. This event will bring together vocation supporters from across the diocese for a night of music, food and fun with our seminarians! You can buy your tickets or sponsor the event by going to one.bidpal.net/homegrownharvest2021. I appreciate your consideration as we want to give as many excellent resources as possible to our future priests and religious.

Kathleen McMullin
RIDGELAND – Father Nick Adam gives Kathleen McMullin a blessing at her farewell party on Saturday, Aug. 21. McMullin departed the diocese to begin her formation with the Sisters of St. Francis of the Martyr St. George in Alton, Illinois. (Photo courtesy of Father Nick Adam)

Different ways of being spiritual but not religious

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
Nothing so much approximates the language of God as does silence. Meister Eckhart said that.

Among other things, he is affirming that there is some deep inner work that can only be done in silence, alone, in private.

He’s right of course, but there’s another side to this. While there is some deep inner work that can only be done in silence, there is also some deep, critical, soul work that can only be done with others, in relationship, in family, in church and in society. Silence can be a privileged avenue to depth of soul. It can also be dangerous. Ted Kaczynski, the unabomber, lived in silence, alone; as have many other deeply disturbed individuals. Mental health professionals tell us that we need interaction with other people to keep us sane. Social interaction grounds us, balances us, and anchors our sanity. I look at some of our young people today who are interacting with others (in person and through social media) every hour of their waking lives and worry for their depth, though not for their sanity.

We need each other. Jean-Paul Sartre once famously stated, “hell is the other person.” He couldn’t be more misguided. In the end, the other is heaven, the salvation for which we are ultimately destined. Utter aloneness is hell. Moreover, this malevolent aloneness can sneak up on you wearing the best altruistic and religious disguises.

Here’s an example: I grew up in a very close-knit family in a small rural community where family, neighbor, parish and being with others meant everything, where everything was shared and you were rarely alone. I feared being alone, avoided it, and was only comfortable when I was with others.

Immediately after high school, I joined a religious order, the Oblates of Mary Immaculate, and for the next eight years lived in a large community where, again, most everything was shared and one was seldom alone. As I approached final vows and permanent commitment to religious life and priesthood, what I feared most was the vow of celibacy, the loneliness it would bring. No wife, no children, no family; the isolation of a celibate life.

Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

Things turned out very differently. Celibacy has had its cost, admittedly; and admittedly it is not the normal life God intended for everyone. However, the loneliness I feared (but for brief moments) seldom ensued – the opposite. I found my life overly full of relationships, interaction with others, flat-out busyness, daily pressures and commitments that took up virtually every waking hour. Rather than feeling lonely, I found myself almost habitually longing for solitude, for quiet, to be alone; and I grew quite comfortable with being alone. Too comfortable in fact.

For most of the years of my priesthood, I have lived in large religious communities and they, like any family, have their demands. However, when I became president of a School of Theology, I was assigned to live in a house designated for the president and for a period of time lived alone. At first, I found it a bit disorienting, never having lived alone before; but after a while it grew on me. I really liked it. No responsibilities at home to anyone but myself.

Soon enough though, I perceived its dangers. After one year I ended the arrangement. One of the dangers of living alone and one of the dangers of celibacy, even if you are living faithfully, is that you don’t have others to call you out daily and put every kind of demand on you. You get to call your own shots and can avoid much of what Dorothy Day called “the asceticism of living inside a family.” When you live alone, you can too easily plan and live life on your own terms, cherry-picking those parts of family and community that benefit you and avoiding the difficult parts.

There are certain things that begin as virtues then easily turn into a vice. Busyness is an example. You sacrifice being with your family in order to support them by your work and that keeps you from many of its activities. Initially, this is a sacrifice – eventually, it’s an escape, an inbuilt dispensation from having to deal with certain issues inside family life. Vowed celibacy and priesthood court that same danger.

We all know the expression, ‘I am spiritual but not religious’ (which we apply to people who are open to dealing with God but not open to dealing with church). However, we struggle with this in more ways than we might think. At least I do. As a vowed, celibate priest, ‘I can be spiritual but not religious’ in that, for the highest of reasons, I can avoid much of the daily asceticism demanded of someone living in a family. However, this is a danger for all of us, celibate or married. When, for every kind of good reason we can cherry-pick those parts of family and community we like and avoid those parts we find difficult, we are spiritual but not religious.

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

The art of listening: the two-sentence rule

GUEST COLUMN
By Reba J. McMellon, M.S., LPC
A wise man is silent till the right time comes, but a boasting fool ignores the proper time. Ecclesiastes: 20:6

Have you ever walked away from a conversation feeling ignored or brushed aside? It usually happens when we tell someone something about ourselves that is either exciting, sad or upsetting. You share something big only to find yourself on a completely different subject about the other person moments later. Have you ever wondered how or why this happens?

Reba J. McMellon, M.S.,LPC

It’s happens when information you are sharing triggers a thought in the listener about themselves. That is normal enough and even to be expected. However, it can prevent opportunities to truly listen to one another. Immediately changing the subject is an ineffective form of communication.

In training to be a counselor, I was taught listening skills. There are entire textbooks devoted to listening skills. I doubt any of us would want to ‘listen’ to all that. I think it can be reduced to what I refer to as: the two-sentence rule.

• When somebody shares something about themselves, ask at least two sentences that has to do with what they just said. Ask them before moving on to what that reminds you of – namely, yourself. Try asking questions beginning with who, what, where, when or how; but never why. For example: When did it start? How did it go? Who else was there? What got you interested in that? Or, where were you? Those are called open ended questions.

• Starting a sentence with ‘why’ puts the other person on the defensive. Most of us don’t know why it happened, why it made us so upset or excited or sad. ‘Why’ often shuts down the conversation.

• Remember, a conversation is a dialogue, not a monologue. When people interrupt too quickly with, “Well I…” – the subject is about to shift. A conversation is an exchange of thoughts, feelings, or ideas between two or more people – a two-way street.

• The two-sentence rule is easy to remember and a good way to catch yourself. Any more than two sentences could seem like probing. Any less than two sentences could seem uninterested. Pay attention to how many times you start a sentence with, “Well, I …” If a horn honked every time you start a sentence with “I,” would it sound like a car alarm was going off? I … I … I … I

• If you don’t care to listen, don’t ask the person a question.

The two-sentence rule is not meant to be complicated or rigid. In fact, you can skip the two-sentence rule if you check your mindfulness. Check and see if you are listening and genuinely care. If so, slow down thoughts of yourself enough to be mindful of the other person, at least for two sentences.

Wonder who, what, where or how they are feeling, when they come away from a conversation with you. We can all learn more from truly listening rather than simply hearing.

(Reba J. McMellon, M.S. is a licensed professional counselor with 35 years of experience. She worked in the field of child sexual abuse and adult survivors of sexual abuse for over 25 years. She continues to work as a mental health consultant, public speaker and freelance writer in Jackson, Mississippi. Reba can be reached at rebaj@bellsouth.net.)