THEOLOGY AT THE MOVIES
By James Tomek, Ph.D

Shortly after attending “An Hour of Prayer for Vocations” led by Father Nick Adam, I saw Robert Bresson’s acclaimed 1951 film, “Diary of a Country Priest,” (on the TMC Channel and based on a novel by George Bernanos) where a humble priest at a small parish keeps a journal of his experiences, which include hostility and a lack of compassion from members of the parish, a questioning of his vocation and prayer life, all while counseling a woman who years ago lost her infant son. He is also battling a serious stomach condition, reduced to digesting only small quantities of old bread and cheap wine with an occasional potato. After trying to get a colleague to return to the priesthood, he dies of a stomach cancer with a rosary on his chest and the words “What does that matter? All is grace.”

I joked with my wife that Father Nick should use this film in recruiting people to the religious life! But, on second thought, maybe this film should be a major part of the curriculum to confirm one’s sense of vocation. I will go through the film, discussing his particular challenges with the parishioners, then his thoughts on vocation from his mentor and doctor with a conclusion on the “success” of his life. It is a story about vocation in general. Did I choose the right one? Can I continue to have faith in a vocation where there is seemingly little compassion?

The priest (in French they say Monsieur le curé or mon père where we would say “Father” only) is not referred to by name. He has trouble dealing with his lower bourgeois parishioners as they complain about him and are stingy in donations and goodwill. His catechism lessons to the young girls are met with derision, even from the one he thinks is the best student. His only attendee at daily Mass is Louise, the governess of the only nobility in the region. We learn that Louise is also the mistress of the Count whose home the priest visits to ask for financial assistance and to offer psychological help to his wife, the Countess, who still suffers from the loss of her child.

He has a mentor, a priest in another parish, Torcy, who is cynical and advises him to keep order and not let the people boss him around. The Torcy priest is resigned to accept his vocation as simply clerical. Doctor Delbende, another advisor, suffers from the same depression. He receives no compassion from his patients and will eventually take his own life.

Our priest is quite effective dealing with wounded souls. In a long central scene, he succeeds in helping the Countess to finally accept the death of her son. It is a complex confession reconciliation scene. The priest influences her to say the Lord’s Prayer in a manner that she resigns herself to her son’s death to the point that, even though still tormented by it, she arrives at a moment of peace. It is the priest’s honesty in this Sacrament of Reconciliation where she sees that he is truly afraid for the death of her soul.

The priest goes to Lille, a city, for a medical consultation. He receives a death sentence – stomach cancer, caused by his meager diet of cheap wine and stale bread. The very foods that he thinks he can only digest are bad for him. That these foods are also consecrated into the Body and Blood of Jesus at Mass may be a not so wise influencing factor.

At Lille, he does manage to see an old seminary friend who has left the priesthood, and has married, but who is sickly and poor. Before dying, he asks his friend to rethink his vocation and, also, to give him absolution. In this way, our priest helps the former priest to recover some of his first vocation. Is our priest a failure? There is a reoccurring image of him at a gate in front of his Rectory and the noble’s estate. Is it a sign of prison? He says that he cannot pray, but the diary that he keeps is an articulate and prayerful examination of conscience.

The film makes us aware that he is constantly writing down his thoughts. He is a very capable confessor with the two to three people that allow him to enter in extended conversation. We see that he really tries to help those who are broken. He suffers deceptions at first, but then seems to see through them. He refuses to take the advice of the elder priest as he will not resign himself from helping the Count’s daughter, who is filled with hate over her father’s actions. His resignation is not one of quitting, but that of letting go his ego and engaging.

When thinking about our vocation in life, we should see this film. Do we have this priest’s “faith” to continue in spite of all the physical and mental obstacles? When he says “What does it matter? All is grace,” what does he mean?

Grace is that gift that allows us to be charitable when all else tells us to think for ourselves. To me, this movie is really a positive statement about someone who accepts his vocation in the most trying circumstances. I hope that God will treat me the way this priest treats his flock. We need compassionate people to guide us, even when they are weary. Gate images? A prison? I say no. He is opening the gates of our prisons, like the narrator in Bob Dylan’s “Desolation Row,” a song about desperate people who need help. At the end of the song the consoler is weary, but sings out to us – “ Right now I can’t read too good/Don’t send me no letters, no/Not unless you mail them from Desolation Row.”

(James Tomek is a Lay Ecclesial Minister at Sacred Heart in Rosedale and also active in RCIA at Our Lady of Victories in Cleveland.)

Kneading Faith
By Fran Lavelle
The USCCB discerns a theme for the catechetical year which is kicked off the third week of September. Catechetical Sunday is significant as it marks the beginning of another academic year which most of our catechetical programs follow. It is also significant as it recognizes the men and women who serve the church in the single most important ministry of the church, the propagation of the faith. Without well formed, faithful Catholics we have no need for the other ministries of the church.
The theme this year is “Only Say the Word and My Soul Shall Be Healed.” The words are immediately recognizable to anyone who attends Mass. The importance of these poignant few words cannot be overstated. We all come up short in our daily effort to be present to and fully live the Gospel. The Sacramental life of the church, especially the Eucharist, provides the graces we need to stay on track. The bishops’ choice of such a Eucharist-centric theme is meaningful on so many levels. The Sacraments were instituted by Jesus and are signs of grace. As catechists one of our most difficult tasks is teaching about the Sacraments.

Further strengthening the role of the catechist, on May 10 Pope Francis promulgated an Apostolic Letter “Antiquum Ministerium” instituting the ministry of the catechist. In the letter, Pope Francis underscores the important role that the laity play in passing on the faith. Our work as lay catechetical leaders, in collaboration with the clergy and religious communities, is an essential and integral component in the evangelization and formation of Catholic Christians. Pope Francis put it this way, “To be sure, there has been a growing awareness of the identity and mission of the laity in the church. We can indeed count on many lay persons, although still not nearly enough, who have a deeply-rooted sense of community and great fidelity to the tasks of charity, catechesis and the celebration of the faith.” (Evangelii Gaudium, 102) It follows that the reception of a lay ministry such as that of Catechist will emphasize even more the missionary commitment proper to every baptized person, a commitment that must however be carried out in a fully “secular” manner, avoiding any form of clericalization.”
Shortly after the document was made public, I had a cup of coffee with a long-time catechist in our diocese. She jokingly remarked, “Catechisis is now a ministry of the church? What have we been doing all of these years.”
Her humor spoke to the truth. While the official recognition of the catechist as a vocation is important, the role of the catechist has always been essential, and it has always been a ministry. I think Pope Francis recognized that fact too. The elevation of catechist as a vocation/ministry of the church adds needed emphasis on the importance of well trained, well formed catechists. It seems like over the past few decades the church has placed less emphasis on training catechists and more emphasis on making the job of catechesis less of a “burden.”
I understand that many of our directors and coordinators of religious education at our parishes are volunteers and nearly all of our catechists are volunteers. Not wanting to add to the already busy schedules of our volunteer catechists may seem like a pastoral response. However, competency and confidence go hand in hand. I recall several years ago driving by my volunteer fire department thinking that if my house were on fire the volunteer firemen were trained to put out the fire and administer first aid in the event it is needed. I am reminded of the hours of training it takes to be a volunteer fireman. Proper training for important work such as firefighting or catechesis is necessary no matter if the individual is a paid professional or a volunteer.
Pope Francis went on to say:
Beginning with the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council, the church has come to a renewed appreciation of the importance of lay involvement in the work of evangelization. The Council Fathers repeatedly emphasized the great need for the lay faithful to be engaged directly, in the various ways their charism can be expressed, in the “plantatio ecclesiae” and the development of the Christian community. “Worthy of praise too is that army of catechists, both men and women, to whom missionary work among the nations is so indebted, who imbued with an apostolic spirit make an outstanding and absolutely necessary contribution to the spread of the faith and the church by their great work. In our days, when there are so few clerics to evangelize such great multitudes and to carry out the pastoral ministry, the role of catechists is of the highest importance.” (cf. Second Vatican Ecumenical Council, Decree on the Church’s Missionary Activity Ad Gentes, 17)
As a diocese, we will be looking at ways to better equip catechists for their important ministry as well as look for opportunities to celebrate the many ways catechists add to the richness of our faith. We will keep you posted!

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

THINGS OLD AND NEW
By Ruth Powers
It is a common feature of our culture that we expect different forms of dress depending on the setting – one would expect to see different attire at a formal wedding than at a backyard barbeque. Catholics are certainly used to seeing our clergy and others who serve on the altar wear special clothing during the celebration of the Mass. The question then arises: Why do they wear that and what is the history behind that clothing?

One would think that the priestly vestments of today had their root in the vestments described in the Old Testament book of Exodus (28:2-4), but this is not the case. Those vestments were used in Jewish Temple worship, but not in the early Christian church. In fact, the beginning of our priestly vestments was the everyday clothing of the Greco-Roman world. Originally the clothing of the presider was no different from anyone else, as everyone wore their “Sunday best” for worship. The basic pieces worn in the first century were generally a tunic, which could be long or short, and a mantle or cloak worn over it. Secular fashions evolved gradually, but it took until the fourth century for priestly dress to become separated from the clothing of everyday life. It was at this time that the stole began to be used as an official symbol of the priesthood. By the ninth century, the plainer vestments of an earlier time came to be more richly ornamented; and as the church gained wealth and power, vestments became even more elaborate, sometimes reflecting the richness of the dress of the secular nobility. Today the form of the vestments used by the priests is meant to take him away as the center of the liturgical action and point us toward the true center of the liturgy – Jesus Christ.
Each part of the vestment has developed a symbolic meaning over time; and as the priest puts on each part, there is a vesting prayer to be said.
• The first vestment is the amice, which many people don’t ever see. It is a rectangular cloth with cords coming out of the sides. It developed out of a hood that covered the head outdoors and was lowered inside. It represents the “helmet of salvation.” (Ephesians 6:17) Its function now is to be worn around the shoulders and neck to protect the chasuble and stole, and to cover any ordinary clothing showing at the neck.
• Next is the alb, a long white garment which grew out of the tunic worn in the first century. It represents the white garment given at baptism. Any member of the baptized can wear an alb when performing a liturgical role, so altar servers, lay masters of ceremony, and sometimes lay people in other liturgical roles may wear an alb.
• A cincture is a cord that may be used as a belt to hold the alb and stole in place. It is no longer required but can be used. For the priest, the cincture is a symbol of chastity. If the priest is a member of a religious order, the cincture can have three knots in it, symbolizing the three evangelical counsels/vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience.
• The stole is a long narrow piece of cloth that matches the liturgical color of the chasuble. The priest wears it over his shoulders either with the ends hanging down on both sides or crossed over his chest. It is a symbol of his priestly authority and is meant to be a reminder of the cross Jesus bore over his shoulders.
• The final vestment is the chasuble. This developed out of the mantles worn as outer clothing. It represents the virtue of charity, since it is to be the primary virtue of the priest and the core of the Sacrament of the Eucharist. When the chasuble is worn over the stole, it symbolizes that the priest should cloak his authority with charity.
• The cope is another vestment that developed out of the cloak or mantle. It is a semicircular cape fastened at the neck. Earlier in history it also sometimes had an attached hood. The cope is used, for example, in processions, in the greater blessings and consecrations, at the solemnly celebrated Liturgy of the Hours, and in giving Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament.
A deacon also has some vestments particular to his role. Over the alb he wears a stole diagonally across his body and fastened at his hip. He may also wear a dalmatic, which is a wide sleeved knee length tunic. This garment was originally worn as a substitute for the toga by the Roman Senatorial class and was adapted as the vestment proper to deacons in the fourth century.
As you can see, vestments are about more than making the priest stand out as he celebrates the liturgy. Each vestment has its own meaning and reinforces the idea that in the Sacrifice of the Mass he acts, not as himself, but in the person of Christ.

(Ruth Powers is the Program Coordinator for St. Mary Basilica in Natchez.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
Often when listening to someone singing live or on television, I close my eyes to try to hear the song so as not to let the singer’s performance get in the way of the song. A song can be lost in its performance; indeed, the performance can take over so that the song is replaced by the singer.
When anyone is performing live, be it on a stage, in a classroom, at a podium, or in a pulpit, there will always be some combination of three things. The speaker will be trying to impress others with his talent; he will be trying to get a message across; and (consciously or unconsciously) he will be trying to channel something true, good, and beautiful for its own sake. Metaphorically, he will be making love to himself, making love to the audience, and making love to the song.
It is the third component, making love to the song, which makes for great art, great rhetoric, great teaching, and great preaching. Greatness sets itself apart here because what comes through is “the song” rather than the singer, the message rather than the messenger, and the performer’s empathy rather than his ego. The audience then is drawn to the song rather than to the singer. Good singers draw people to the music rather than to themselves; good teachers draw students to truth and learning rather than to themselves; good artists draw people to beauty rather than to adulation, and good preachers draw their congregations to God rather than to praise of themselves.

Admittedly, this isn’t easy to do. We are all human, so is our audience. No audience respects you unless you do show some talent, creativity, and intelligence. There’s always an unspoken pressure on the singer, the speaker, the teacher, and the preacher, both from within and from without. From within: I don’t want to disappoint! I don’t want to look bad! I need to stand out! I need to show them something special! From without, from the audience: What have you got? Show us something! Are you worth my attention? Are you bright? Are you boring? Only the most mature person can be free of these pressures. Thus, the song easily gets lost in the singer, the message in the messenger, the teaching in the teacher, and the message of God in the personality of the preacher.
As a teacher, preacher, and writer, I admit my own long struggle with this. When you first start teaching, you had better impress your students or you won’t have their attention or respect for long. The same with preaching. The congregation is always sizing you up, and you had better measure up or no one will be listening to you. Moreover, unless you have an exceptionally strong self-image, you will be a perennial prisoner of your own insecurities. Nobody wants to look bad, stupid, uninformed, or come across as talentless. Everyone wants to look good.
Moreover, not least, there is still your ego (and its power can never be underestimated). It wants to draw the attention and the admiration to itself rather than to what is true, good, and beautiful. There is always the temptation for the messenger to be more concerned about impressing others than about having the message come through in purity and truth. The subtle, but powerful, temptation inside every singer, teacher, speaker, preacher, or writer is to draw people to themselves rather than to the truth and beauty they are trying to channel.
I struggle with this in every class I teach, every article or book I write, and every time I preside at liturgy. Nevertheless, I make no apologies for this. It is the innate struggle in all creative effort. Are we trying to draw people to ourselves, or are we trying to draw them to truth, to beauty, to God?
When I teach a class, how much of my preparation and energy is motivated by a genuine concern for the students and how much is motivated by my need to look good, to impress, to have a reputation as a good teacher? When I write an article or a book, am I really trying to bring insight and understanding to others or am I thinking of my status as a writer? When I preside at Mass and preach is my real motivation to channel a sacred ritual in a manner that my own personality doesn’t get in the way? Is it to lead people into community with each other and to decrease myself so Christ can increase?
There is no simple answer to those questions because there can’t be. Our motivation is always less than fully pure. Moreover, we are not meant to be univocal robots without personalities. Our unique personalities and talents were given by God precisely as gifts to be used for others. Still, there’s a clear warning sign. When the focus of the audience is more on our personalities than on the song, we are probably making love more to ourselves and our admirers than to the song.

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