IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
Imagine a young couple intoxicated with each other in the early stages of love. Imagine a religious neophyte in love with God, praying ecstatically. Imagine an idealistic young person working tirelessly with the poor, enflamed with a thirst for justice. Is this young couple really in love with each other? Is that religious neophyte really in love with God? Is this young social activist really in love with the poor? Not an easy question.
Whom are we really loving when we have feelings of love? The other? Ourselves? The archetype and energy the other is carrying? Our own fantasy of that person? The feelings this experience is triggering inside us? When we are in love, are we really in love with another person or are we mostly basking in a wonderful feeling which could be just as easily triggered by countless other persons?
There are different answers to that question. John of the Cross would say it is all of these things; we are in fact really loving that other person, loving a fantasy we have created of that person, and basking in the good feeling this has generated inside us. That is why, invariably, at a given point in a relationship the powerful feelings of being in love give way to disillusionment – disillusionment (by definition) implies the dispelling of an illusion, something was unreal. So for John of the Cross, when we are in love, partly the love is real and partly it is an illusion. Moreover, John would say the same thing about our initial feelings of fervor in prayer and in altruistic service. They are a mixture of both, authentic love and an illusion.
Some other analyses are less generous. In their view, all initial falling in love, whether it be with another person, with God in prayer, or with the poor in service, is mainly an illusion. Ultimately, you are in love with being in love, in love with what prayer is doing for you, or in love with how working for justice is making you feel. The other person, God, and the poor are secondary. That is why, so often, when first fervor dies, so too does our love for its original object. When the fantasy dies, so too does the sense of being in love. We fall in love without really knowing the other person and we fall out of love without really knowing the other person. The very phrase “falling in love” is revealing. “Falling” is not something we choose, it happens to us. Marriage Encounter spirituality has a clever slogan around this: marriage is a decision; falling in love is not.

Who is right? When we fall in love, how much is genuine love for another and how much is an illusion within which we are mostly loving ourselves? Steven Levine answers this from very different perspective and throws new light on the question. What is his perspective?
Love, he says, is not a “dualistic emotion.” For him, whenever we are feeling authentic love we are, at that moment, feeling our oneness with God and with all that is. He writes, “The experience of love arises when we surrender our separateness into the universal. It is a feeling of unity … It is not an emotion, it is a state of being … It is not so much that ‘two are as one’ so much as it is the ‘One manifested as two.’” In other words, when we love someone, in that moment, we are one with him or her, not separate, so that even though our fantasies and feelings may be partially wrapped up in self-serving affectivity, something deeper and more real than our feelings and fantasies is occurring. We are one with the other in our being – and, in love, we sense it.
In this view, authentic love is not so much something we feel; it is something we are. At its root, love is not an affective emotion or a moral virtue (though these are part of it). It is a metaphysical condition, not something that comes and goes like an emotional state, nor something that we can choose or refuse morally. A metaphysical condition is a given, something we stand within, that makes up part of what we are, constitutively, though we can be blissfully unaware. Thus, love, not least falling in love, can help make us more conscious of our non-separateness, our oneness in being with others.
When we feel love deeply or passionately, then perhaps (like Thomas Merton describing a mystical vision he had on a street corner) we can awake more from our dream of separateness and our illusion of difference and see the secret beauty and depth of other people’s hearts. Perhaps too it will enable us to see others at that place in them where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God’s eyes.
And wouldn’t it be wonderful, Merton adds … “if we could see each other that way all the time.”

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

Reflections on Life
By Melvin Arrington
In this series of articles we have examined the Fruits of the Spirit enumerated in Galatians 5:22-23. Previously, we have considered love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness and gentleness. We now conclude with the ninth fruit, self-control, referred to as temperance in some translations. This is perhaps the most problematic of all from the perspective of our modern culture because it calls for avoiding the near occasions of sin as well as disciplining and taming the ego.
Self-control is rapidly becoming a lost art. Restraint, self-discipline, and self-denial are all antithetical to the spirit of the modern age, which promotes self-indulgence and self-expression over and above the traditional virtues.
Well-ordered passions are good, but when they become inordinate, that is, excesses or perversions, then what was once a virtue is quickly transformed into a vice. For example, eating and drinking are good things because they are necessary to sustain life. We eat and drink to live. But if we overindulge in these activities, if we live to eat and drink, then we are guilty of the sin of gluttony.

Likewise, we need money to pay for the necessities of life, such as food, clothing, and shelter, but when money is valued as an end in itself, when it is excessively accumulated and hoarded, then this inordinate love of money becomes the sin of avarice. The same process of transformation produces the other deadly sins of anger, envy, lust, pride and sloth.
Clearly, temperance, or moderation, should govern our behavior. But when there is a failure to exert self-control over inordinate appetites and desires, sin enters the picture. We should not allow ourselves to be controlled and dominated by the passions of the will, which invariably result in immoderate behavior. When sin gains the upper hand, that means that egotism or self-love has replaced true charity. If we let temptation overwhelm us, then these deadly sins can become, in the words of Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen, the “seven pallbearers of the soul.”
According to St. Dominic, “a man who governs his passions is master of his world. We must either command them or be enslaved by them. It is better to be a hammer than an anvil.” Governing our passions is easier said than done. Even more challenging and demanding than self-control is self-mastery, which the Catechism calls “a long and exacting work. One can never consider it acquired once and for all. It presupposes renewed effort at all stages of life” (CCC 2342).
Archbishop Sheen says we can’t really drive out evil habits on our own. Instead, we crowd them out by loving something else more. If we are filled with the love of God, then there’s no room for anything else to get inside of us. God will give us that extra measure of grace we need to overcome temptations if we only ask Him for it.
The Confessions of St. Augustine, who was a slave to the sin of lust before he turned his life around, is a classic conversion story. Augustine became convicted of his sin when he read in the 13th chapter of Romans: “Not in revelry and drunkenness, not in debauchery and wantonness, not in strife and jealousy; but put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and as for the flesh, take no thought for its lusts.” He discovered that he could love God more than the sinful life he was leading.
Temperance is based on the idea of exchange. We give up one thing in order to get something else. For example, we choose between the flesh and the spirit. We give up certain things during Lent (e.g. coffee, desserts, television), not because they are bad but so that by practicing self-restraint we can draw closer to God. Similarly, there is a huge difference between dieting and fasting; we diet for the sake of our physical appearance, but we fast for the sake of our spiritual welfare. Everything depends on what we value most highly.
In this out-of-control world we live in we have a choice to make. Do we want to follow the crowd and become like dead fish floating downstream, carried along by the current of popular opinion concerning what is right and wrong and totally at the mercy of our passions, or do we want to boldly swim upstream, against the current, fully alive, self-possessed, with our egos in check, and filled with God’s love. Our modern world can’t understand the latter option, but it’s really the only one that leads to genuine happiness.

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

ON ORDINARY TIMES
By Lucia A. Silecchia

I saw them in the department store – a mother and a little girl about five years old. The child, in her restlessness, sought to wander away during what must have struck her as a very dull way to spend time. Sifting through a clearance rack is not the excitement five year olds appreciate.

Whenever the little girl strayed too far, her mother would say, with care and concern, “Please don’t get lost.” I smiled to myself when I heard this. I am blessed with a good sense of adventure but a horrible sense of direction. That combination means that when I was five – and now that I am much older than five! – getting lost was and remains a routine state of affairs.

But when I heard that mother say to a beloved daughter “Please don’t get lost,” it struck me that this is not merely a mother’s plea to an unwilling young shopping companion. It may also be the prayer that loving mothers say for their beloved children every day of their lives. It may be a prayer that goes something like this …

When you lie in your crib alone and the darkness of your room and the shadows on the wall frighten you and the night seems long, please don’t get lost.

When you take your first steps and you fall not just once, but over and over again, and your knees and your pride get bruised, please don’t get lost.

When I leave you alone at school for the first time and you glance back toward me and ahead toward a roomful of strangers and uncertainty overwhelms you, please don’t get lost.

When a schoolyard bully ruins your day, when you fail your first exam, when you lose the spelling bee and when you don’t get picked for the baseball team or the school play and you never want to go to school again, please don’t get lost.

When you are discerning your vocation in life and deciding how best to spend your love and the future seems exciting and frightening, boundless and burdensome all at the same time, please don’t get lost.
When your heart gets broken in all the large and small ways that happens and you think life will never hold joy for you again, please don’t get lost.

When illness or injury strikes you – or someone you love – without warning and the suffering is more than you ever thought possible and each day is a stunning new struggle, please don’t get lost.

When you pray and God seems far away and so you stop praying for a time, please don’t get lost.

When life is going well and you stop realizing how much you need God and, once again, you stop praying for a time, please don’t get lost.

When your cherished plans fall apart or a lifelong friend betrays you or a dearest dream is dashed, please don’t get lost.

When success surrounds you and you let it go to your head, please don’t get lost.

When you make a stunningly bad mistake and no one is angrier at you than you are at yourself, please don’t get lost.

When your heart, your home, your bank account and your stomach are all full and you neglect gratitude and compassion, please don’t get lost.

When you start to feel, for the very first time, that you are growing older and might not accomplish all that you hoped to do in this life, and that emptiness hurts your heart a bit, please don’t get lost.

When I myself grow old and the painful privilege of walking me home falls on your shoulders, just as care for you once fell on mine, do the best you can, and please don’t get lost.

When you yourself grow older and with grace and dignity – or, perhaps, against your own will — you start to shed the outward signs of success and strength by which we too often measure our worth, please don’t get lost.

But most of all, when your journey through this life draws to an end, then, more than ever, please don’t get lost.

When you are scared, hold onto all I tried to teach you, the faith I tried to share with you, and the love I left behind for you. Please don’t get lost – because I want to see you again on the other side of eternity, when we have both left behind our ordinary times.

On Mother’s Day and always, may God bless all our mothers in this world and the next. And thanks, Mom, for all the times you prayed for me.

(Lucia A. Silecchia is a Professor of Law at the Catholic University of America. “On Ordinary Times” is a biweekly column reflecting on the ways to find the sacred in the simple. Email her at silecchia@cua.edu.)

Francesco

By Sister Hosea Rupprecht (CNS)
Award-winning documentarian Evgeny Afineevsky (“Cries From Syria”) issues a call for action with his film “Francesco” (Discovery+).
The unspoken summons comes through allowing viewers to witness the influence one man, Pope Francis, has succeeded in having over the many social and other issues of our time.
Rather than present a linear biography, the movie takes its form from the Holy Father’s own agenda. As depicted here, the pontiff’s primary goal is to bring the message of human dignity to the world by shining a light into some of the darkest corners of the globe, where political, social, economic and religious injustices have taken – and, in some cases, are still taking – place.
Afineevsky, for instance, brings his audience to the Philippines, ravaged by Typhoon Haiyan in 2013, as Francis talks about climate change and the call to protect our common home.
The plight of refugees is highlighted through the pope’s visit to Lampedusa, a modern-day Ellis Island in the Mediterranean Sea through which thousands of Tunisian and Libyan migrants have passed, fleeing political upheaval in their home countries. The passage from the North African coast to Lampedusa is considered one of the world’s deadliest migration routes.
The pontiff also visits the island of Lesbos in Greece to which many Syrian migrants fled in the wake of their nation’s civil war. One interviewee calls the Syrian refugee situation “the greatest humanitarian crisis since World War II.” Pope Francis not only gave words of comfort to refugees – he followed them up with action, sponsoring the immigration to Italy of three Muslim families.
“Francesco” also address other hot-button topics such as clergy sexual abuse, homosexuality and the building of walls between peoples.
Where does the pontiff get the inspiration to do all he does? Afineevsky takes us back to the life of young Jorge Bergoglio, especially stressing the influence that his grandmother, Nonna Rosa, had on his growing faith and spirituality.
From his decision to become a priest, to joining the Jesuits, to becoming the archbishop of Buenos Aires and a cardinal, Pope Francis has been consistent in his action on behalf of others. In other words, the film shows that what Francis has done since his 2013 election to the papacy is just a continuation of what he had done up to that time.  
With a running time just under two hours, “Francesco” is quite long for a documentary. The film contains mature themes and some scenes of war violence. The Catholic News Service classification is A-II – adults and adolescents. Not rated by the Motion Picture Association.

(Sister Rupprecht, a Daughter of St. Paul, is a guest reviewer for Catholic News Service.)

“Fatima” – condemned to death and the Scrutiny of Life

Theology at the movies
By James Tomek, Ph.D
Seventeenth Century philosopher Blaise Pascal describes the tragedy of the human condition. Imagine that we are in a prisoner room of people and each day a guard comes in and picks one of us to be executed. That is our fate – we know that one day our turn will come. Our tragedy is not that we will die, but that the thought of death will cause us to seek divertissement so as not to think about what life is.
Marco Pontecorvu’s 2020 film “Fatima,” about the apparitions of the Blessed Mother to three peasant children, starts with a weekly roll call of dead soldiers in the 1917 war torn town of Fatima, Portugal. “Fatima” is a Pascalian answer to Jessica Hausner’s 2012 film “Lourdes.” Mary, appearing to Lucia and her cousins Jacinta and Francisco, is asking them and us to pray for peace. In this review, I will establish a comparison of the two films, highlight Fatima’s emphasis on prayer, and conclude with an answer to the Lenten scrutiny of life and what it might mean to be religious.
“Lourdes” concentrates more on the miracle healing aspect of religious prayer while Pontecorvu’s film focuses on the need for prayer, in general, to promote peace. “Fatima” takes place in 1917 Portugal, at war with Germany and guided by a recently secular government. This is Pascal country. The film is framed by a 1980s’ interview of Lucia by a professor who wonders why God would choose to speak to a common farm girl. This frame establishes Lucia as a sane, intelligent, and witty person who can be believed. However, is she a “seer” who has “prophet” status? Some peasants visit Lucia’s home to be a witness of the “seer.” A “seer” is a prophet who can see the truth in certain situations. Our biblical prophets sometimes predict futures, but their real message is the truth of the times that they are witnessing, especially the social injustices. “Lourdes” focuses on the reality of the miracle and how to pray when afflicted with a malady. Fatima goes elsewhere.
While the crowds of peasants in Fatima are looking for some miracle in their lives, the film concentrates more on Mary’s insisting that they pray for peace. The historical sections of the film show how the children have to stand up to the protests from their parents, church, and government, always with the background of the repeated roll calls of the dead and missing.
Lucia’s mother, Maria Rosa, is the strongest character. She is the most educated in the family and the most skeptical, insisting that Lucia recant her story so as not to have her be seen as crazy. The country has recently become a republic with a wish to have a secular government. Thus, the children are confronted by the priest, then the mayor, then the bishop and finally a government psychologist who pressure them to recant their positions so that the country will remain more at ease in a secular environment.
While the mother is pictured as an antagonist, we see that she really does love and support her daughter. The film sticks to reality. The original theme of “1917 Fatima,” of praying for the conversion of Russia, has been replaced/updated to a general prayer for peace and social justice. This air is seen in the beginning when Lucia has a vision of a woman in a cave who calls herself the Angel of Portugal. This premonition will be transformed into a vision of the Virgin Mary later. She is still simply dressed. These visions could be general “feelings,” but are they not still miraculously showered on the young Lucia in the form of heavenly Mariological signs?
My mother and I would have deep religious conversations. I remember her mentioning an apparition of the Blessed Mother in Medjugorje, Yugoslavia. I responded that I did not believe in that “junk” (I used a heavier word). To which she got angry. But, a few weeks later, she called me asking for my advice on some matter because she said that I was more religious than she. I realized that believing in so called apparitions really had nothing to do with being religious to her (no way I was more religious than she was for sure). I was like the skeptical mother of Lucia talking to my mother about the Blessed Mother.
We are all in that roll call of the dead and will be reported dead sooner or later. Can this thought bring us to think about what is important? That is the third scrutiny of Life that catechumens go through during Lent (5th Sunday and the Lazarus reading) – and also the theme of the recent Divine Mercy Sunday. The film opens with a vision of the Angel of Portugal, the Angel of Peace to Lucia in a cave. We hear the bombings of a plane. The angel says that they just don’t seem to want to stop. I pray the rosary frequently. Why? We have the persecution of African Americans and now Asian Americans, not to mention all the violence done by haters to those of different faith traditions. They just don’t seem to want to stop.

(James Tomek is a retired language and literature professor at Delta State University who is currently a Lay Ecclesial Minister at Sacred Heart in Rosedale and also active in RCIA at Our Lady of Victories in Cleveland.)