IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
“You can safely assume you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.” – Anne Lamott

Those are words worth contemplating, on all sides of the political and religious divide today. We live in a time of bitter division. From our government offices down to our kitchen tables there are tensions and divisions about politics, religion, and versions of truth that seem irreparable. Sadly, these divisions have brought out the worst in us, in all of us. Common civility has broken down and brought with it something that effectively illustrates the biblical definition of the “diabolic” – widespread lack of common courtesy, disrespect, demonization and hatred of each other. All of us now smugly assume that God hates all the same people we do. The polarization around the recent U.S. elections, the storming of the U.S. Capitol buildings by a riotous mob, the bitter ethical and religious debates about abortion, and the loss of a common notion of truth have made clear that incivility, hatred, disrespect and different notions of truth rule the day.

Where do we go with that? I am a theologian and not a politician or social analyst so what I say here has more to do with living out Christian discipleship and basic human maturity than with any political response. Where do we go religiously with this?

Perhaps a helpful way to probe for a Christian response is to pose the question this way: what does it mean to love in a time like this? What does it mean to love in a time when people can no longer agree on what is true? How do we remain civil and respectful when it feels impossible to respect those who disagree with us?
In struggling for clarity with an issue so complex, sometimes it can be good to proceed via the Via Negativa, that is, by first asking what should we avoid doing. What should we not do today?

First, we should not bracket civility and legitimize disrespect and demonization; but we should also not be unhealthily passive, fearful that speaking our truth will upset others. We may not disregard truth and let lies and injustices lie comfortable and unexposed. It is too simple to say that there are good people on both sides in order to avoid having to make real adjudications vis-à-vis the truth. There are sincere people on both sides, but sincerity can also be very misguided. Lies and injustice need to be named. Finally, we must resist the subtle (almost impossible to resist) temptation to allow our righteousness morph into self-righteousness, one of pride’s most divisive modalities.

What do we need to do in the name of love? Fyodor Dostoevsky famously wrote that love is a harsh and fearful thing, and our first response should be to accept that. Love is a harsh thing and that harshness is not just the discomfort we feel when we confront others or find ourselves confronted by them. Love’s harshness is felt most acutely in the (almost indigestible) self-righteousness we have to swallow in order to rise to a higher level of maturity where we can accept that God loves those we hate just as much as God loves us – and those we hate are just as precious and important in God’s eyes as we are.

Once we accept this, then we can speak for truth and justice. Then truth can speak to power, to “alternative truth,” and to the denial of truth. That is the task. Lies must be exposed, and this needs to occur inside our political debates, inside our churches, and at our dinner tables. That struggle will sometimes call us beyond niceness (which can be its own mammoth struggle for sensitive persons). However, while we cannot always be nice, we can always be civil and respectful.

One of our contemporary prophetic figures, Daniel Berrigan, despite numerous arrests for civil disobedience, steadfastly affirmed that a prophet makes a vow of love, not of alienation. Hence, in our every attempt to defend truth, to speak for justice, and to speak truth to power, our dominant tone must be one of love, not anger or hatred. Moreover, whether we are acting in love or alienation will always be manifest – in our civility or lack of it. No matter our anger, love still has some non-negotiables, civility and respect. Whenever we find ourselves descending to adolescent name-calling, we can be sure we have fallen out of discipleship, out of prophecy, and out of what is best inside us.

Finally, how we will respond to the times remains a deeply personal thing. Not all of us are called to do the same thing. God has given each of us unique gifts and a unique calling; some are called to loud protest, others to quiet prophecy. However, we are all called to ask ourselves the same question: given what is happening, what is love asking of me now?

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

From the hermitage
By sister alies therese
The battle is on. Swords are drawn. All seems so violent and harsh. Yet we are told prayer is a battle. We might even have a “war room” in our home. Life is not easy. We just must get on with it! Really?
“Consider how Jesus Christ teaches us to be humble, by making us see that our virtue does not depend on our work alone but from grace on high. Jesus commands each of the faithful who prays to do so universally, for the whole world. He did not say, ‘thy will be done in me or in us,’ but ‘on earth,’ the whole earth, so that error might be banished from it, truth take root in it, all vice be destroyed on it, virtue flourish on it, and earth no longer different from heaven.” St. John Chrysostom
“We have not been commanded to work, to keep watch and to fast constantly, but it has been laid down that we are to pray without ceasing.” (Desert Fathers)
Father Donal Dorr, an Irish missionary priest wrote many books and in his Spirituality and Justice, 1984, he wrote this:
“People who do not have a simple and spontaneous trust in God are likely to take themselves and their own efforts too seriously. Their dedication to human liberation is liable to be too earnest, too blinkered, perhaps too self-righteous. Hence the importance of childlike prayer. On the other hand, like many others who believe that God has called us to work for justice and human liberation, I am constantly dismayed that so many Christians use prayer as a substitute for action … prayer and action are not alternatives, rather they complement each other. It is very hard to find anybody who has a passionate commitment to both.”

We recently celebrated MLK Day, perhaps not in person as we would have liked, but at least in prayer. I think he might have been a person of this passion, praying and working for justice. He would have wept over the attempt to take over the Capitol and government and to hurt, if not kill, leaders. One wonders. A new President on Jan. 20 was like a bit of fresh air but we are certainly not done! The passionate call to justice requires unceasing prayer. Non-violence is difficult.
“Those who ‘pray without ceasing’ unite prayer to works and good works to prayer. Only in this way can we consider as realizable the principle of praying without ceasing.” Origen
In the CCC 1896 we find: “Where sin has perverted the social climate, it is necessary to call for conversion of hearts and appeal to the grace of God. Charity urges just reforms. There is no solution to the social question apart from the Gospel.” Further in 1889: “Without the help of grace, [wo]men would not know how to ‘discern the often narrow path between the cowardice which gives into evil, and the violence which under the illusion of fighting evil only makes things worse.’ Charity is the greatest social commandment. It respects others and their rights. It requires the practice of justice, and it alone makes us capable of it.”
Sin on many levels has perverted our social climate and we look to those who do justice to guide us. Just look around. How do we find the illusions? How do we detect our own complicity? How do we discover those things in our governments (meant to be of service for the people) that oppress or repress? One way we already considered, unceasing prayer. A second way is to consider at least the three main requirements of the ‘common good:’ 1) respect for the person, 2) social well-being and development of culture, 3) peace, stability and security of a just order.” (CCC 1907)
Finally, we listen to Pope St. John XXIII where he reminds us: “Human society can be neither well-ordered nor prosperous unless it has some people invested with legitimate authority to preserve its institutions and to devote themselves as far as is necessary to work and care for the good of all.” (CCC 1897)
There is a lot of fear around. Many fear government take-overs, the pandemic, being alone, or even one’s own health – mental and physical. I can’t say that just saying, ‘go away fear,’ will do it, but I can suggest paying attention to your relationship with Jesus in prayer and the works for common good/justice will put us back on track. This is no hoax. This is no joke. This is the real deal. The call to holiness requires everything.
BLESSINGS.

(Sister alies therese is a vowed Catholic solitary who lives an eremitical life. Her days are formed around prayer, art and writing. She is author of six books of spiritual fiction and is a weekly columnist. She lives and writes in Mississippi.)

Guest column
By James Tomek, Ph.D.
In honor of our national memorial of Martin Luther King, Bishop Joseph Kopacz had our diocese sponsor a workshop “The Fight Against Racism: the Past, Present, and Future Hope of the Church,” led by Bishop Shelton Fabre, an expert on cultural diversity and Catholic African American Relations. He approached our confrontation against the sin of racism with less emphasis on civil rights legislation, focusing more on converting our hearts to do the right thing.

He started with a review of three earlier Pastoral Letters by the Bishops Council (USCCB) that condemned racism but noting that they had little effect in inspiring homilies about racial inequality and human dignity. Catholics should be responding equally to the sins of racism as they do against abortion.
Bishop Fabre outlined a more recent document, “Open Wide Your Hearts: The Enduring Call to Love” (2018), of which he is a major author. Bishop Shelton then encouraged us to follow the prophet Micah’s procedure.
First, one does justice. Since we are all created in the image and likeness of God, we must root out the sin of racism that destroys human dignity, with hatred killing possibilities of communion. Laws are a start, but real conversion comes when our hearts tell us to do the right thing.
This concept clarifies for me the paradox of Immanuel Levinas’ study of the Talmud, where Jews do the law before they know it. I also understand better Paul’s meaning of putting Faith above the Law. Faith is our attitude to do justice. Micah’s next step is to love goodness – practiced by developing homilies and welcoming minorities in our communities. “Walking humbly” is the last step in Micah’s process where we try to set a good example by confronting our own racism.
Before providing resources, Bishop Fabre sets the tone by changing slightly the parable of the workers in the vineyard (Matthew 20:1-16). The workers, who had worked all day, resented the late arrivers being paid the same. The Bishop edits the complaint from “you have paid them equal to us” to “you have made them equal to us.”
Deep down, we humans like to feel superior to some groups of people (the glamor of sin that we reject in our baptismal vows) – a sin against human dignity. Again, we legislate civil rights, without converting our hearts. The session concludes with lists of resources, reminding us of other objects of racism with Asians and Latinos, along with specific subject areas, like housing, jobs, prison and the death penalty.
Finally, Bishop Fabre encourages preaching the evils of racism. We are confused like the disciples at Emmaus. We all need to hear Jesus’s Word and be properly catechized – meaning that we need to study! Racism ends in hatred, undercutting any possibility of unity. Some people react negatively against “Black Lives Matter” thinking that “All Lives Matter.” The Bishop corrects this attitude with an example. All houses matter, but the one on fire matters most. As a former lifeguard, I will add that a struggling, drowning swimmer matters first.
How can I speak against racism to my colleagues in Rosedale? If I think that I am not a racist, I am one. The way out is to confront my racism – which brings me to Palisades Amusement Park at age 14 where I worked at a food stand. The park was near the George Washington Bridge – and thus New York City. Every Sunday would bring huge crowds. Puerto Ricans would line up 10 deep, ordering hotdogs and lemonades, in a language that was foreign to me – and irritating. My colleagues and I, while not ridiculing people openly, would make fun. Bishop Fabre would say that we were affirming our superiority over these people. I am not proud of my attitude then and hope for Purgatory.
One purge came later at a conference where a Mexican colleague and I were discussing Voltaire. I told him that I thought his degree was in Spanish because he was from Cancun and then confessed that if I, an English speaker, can study French, why not he, a Spanish speaker, also switch cultures. We finished in academic unity.
PS. I am a Lay Ecclesial Minister at Sacred Heart in Rosedale and a former French and English teacher at Delta State University. I attended the workshop via Zoom. I want to add that I have heard my Sacramental Ministers and Mentors (Fathers Kent Bowlds, Thomas Mullally and Sebastian Myladiyil) speak about and act against racism and have read pertinent articles in our diocesan paper. The tense frightening times though suggest that we take a bigger stand.

(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.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
Today, the common question in spiritual circles is not, “What is your church or your religion?” But, “what is your practice?”
What is your practice? What is your particular explicit prayer practice? Is it Christian? Buddhist? Islamic? Secular? Do you meditate? Do you do Centering prayer? Do you practice Mindfulness? For how long do you do this each day?
These are good questions and the prayer practices they refer to are good practices; but I take issue with one thing. The tendency here is to identify the essence of one’s discipleship and religious observance with a single explicit prayer practice, and that can be reductionist and simplistic. Discipleship is about more than one prayer practice.
A friend of mine shares this story. He was at a spirituality gathering where the question most asked of everyone was this: what is your practice? One woman replied, “My practice is raising my kids!” She may have meant it in jest, but her quip contains an insight that can serve as an important corrective to the tendency to identify the essence of one’s discipleship with a single explicit prayer practice.
Monks have secrets worth knowing. One of these is the truth that for any single prayer practice to be transformative it must be embedded in a larger set of practices, a much larger “monastic routine,” which commits one to a lot more than a single prayer practice. For a monk, each prayer practice is embedded inside a monastic routine and that routine, rather than any one single prayer practice, becomes the monk’s practice. Further still, that monastic routine, to have real value, must be itself predicated on fidelity to one’s vows.

Hence, the question “what is your practice?” is a good one if it refers to more than just a single explicit prayer practice. It must also ask whether you are keeping the commandments. Are you faithful to your vows and commitments? Are you raising your kids well? Are you staying within Christian community? Do you reach out to the poor? And, yes, do you have some regular, explicit, habitual prayer practice?
What is my own practice?
I lean heavily on regularity and ritual, on a “monastic routine.” Here is my normal routine: Each morning I pray the Office of Lauds (usually in community). Then, before going to my office, I read a spiritual book for at least 20 minutes. At noon, I participate in the Eucharist, and sometime during the day, I go for a long walk and pray for an hour (mostly using the rosary as a mantra and praying for a lot of people by name). On days when I do not take a walk, I sit in meditation or Centering prayer for about fifteen minutes. Each evening, I pray Vespers (again, usually in community). Once a week, I spend the evening writing a column on some aspect of spirituality. Once a month I celebrate the Sacrament of Reconciliation, always with the same confessor; and, when possible, I try to carve out a week each year to do a retreat. My practice survives on routine, rhythm and ritual. These hold me and keep me inside my discipleship and my vows. They hold me more than I hold them. No matter how busy I am, no matter how distracted I am, and no matter whether or not I feel like praying on any given day, these rituals draw me into prayer and fidelity.
To be a disciple is to put yourself under a discipline. Thus, the bigger part of my practice is my ministry and the chronic discipline this demands of me. Full disclosure, ministry is often more stimulating than prayer; but it also demands more of you and, if done in fidelity, can be powerfully transformative in terms of bringing you to maturity and altruism.
Carlo Carretto, the renowned spiritual writer, spend much of his adult life in the Sahara Desert, living in solitude as a monk, spending many hours in formal prayer. However, after years of solitude and prayer in the desert, he went to visit his aging mother who had dedicated many years of her life to raising children, leaving little time for formal prayer. Visiting her, he realized something, namely, his mother was more of contemplative than he was! To his credit, Carretto drew the right lesson: there was nothing wrong with what he had been doing in the solitude of the desert for all those years, but there was something very right in what his mother had been doing in the busy bustle of raising children for so many years. Her life was its own monastery. Her practice was “raising kids.”
I have always loved this line from Robert Lax: “The task in life is not so much finding a path in the woods as of finding a rhythm to walk in.” Perhaps your rhythm is “monastic,” perhaps “domestic.” An explicit prayer practice is very important as a religious practice, but so too are our duties of state.

(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
By now for most of us the Christmas decorations have come down and been stored away for another year. Some took them down by New Years; others at the more traditional Epiphany, but in other times and in other parts of the world, they remain in place until another important feast in the early life of Christ — Candlemas on Feb. 2.

Candlemas is known officially in the church by a couple of names: The Feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple or the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary. This feast day celebrates the events recounted in Luke 2:22-38 and illustrates clearly that the Holy Family were observant Jews and Jesus was brought up in the context of his Jewish heritage. In Jewish law, a woman was considered to be ritually “unclean” for 40 days following the birth of a son. She could not touch anything sacred or enter any sacred place until she had undergone ritual purification. To be purified, the woman was to go to the priest and provide a lamb for a burnt offering and a pigeon or turtledove as a sin offering. If the woman could not afford to provide a lamb, then she could offer two turtledoves or pigeons. The fact that Luke 2:24 records Mary as offering the birds gives us the insight that Jesus did not grow up in a wealthy or influential family. In addition, at this time it was the law that a woman’s first born male child was to be presented at the Temple and dedicated to God.

This feast day also commemorates another epiphany, or disclosure, of the nature and role of Jesus, and also of Mary. The Holy Family encounters Simeon, a “just and devout” old man who has been told that he will not die until he sees the Messiah. He is moved by the Holy Spirit to come to the Temple that day and recognizes the child Jesus as the one who has been promised. He prophesies that Mary will also suffer, (“and you yourself a sword shall pierce so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.”)

Simeon’s beautiful prayer upon seeing Jesus now forms part of Night Prayer which is said every night in the Liturgy of the Hours. It is called the Nunc Dimittis from its first few words and says, “Lord, now you let your servant go in peace; your word has been fulfilled: my own eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared in the sight of every people: a light to reveal you to the nations and the glory of your people Israel.” His prophecy to Mary also forms the basis of her title as Our Lady of Sorrows and the image of her which shows her heart pierced by a sword. They also encounter the prophetess Anna, who recognizes Jesus as the Messiah and “speaks about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem.”

This is an ancient feast in the church, dating to sometime at the end of the third century or the beginning of the fourth. It is a feast associated with light for a number of reasons, mainly in recognition that Christ is called the Light of the World and that Simeon refers to him as “a light to reveal You to the nations.” Because of this association, a custom arose in the early Middle Ages of blessing candles to be used in the home for the rest of the year on this day; so the celebration became commonly known as the Candle Mass, or Candlemas.

In addition, this feast day displaced certain pagan celebrations such as the Roman Lupercalia or the Celtic Imbolc that also revolved around the fact that at this time of year the days become noticeably longer as we move toward Spring. In many countries in Eastern Europe Candlemas marks the end of the Christmas season; and the withered greens used to decorate are taken down and burned in bonfires at this time while houses are cleaned and freshened to provide welcome for the coming Spring (the probable origin of the custom of spring cleaning).

Just for fun there are some other customs and traditions that link the celebration of Candlemas with the coming of Light and Spring. In Northern Europe, there is a weather prediction rhyme about the day: “If Candlemas be fair and bright, come winter, have another flight; if Candlemas bring clouds and rain, go winter and come not again.” This was brought to the United States by German settlers and should be familiar as the basis of the groundhog prediction on Feb. 2. In France it is customary to eat crepes or pancakes on Candlemas. If someone can successfully flip the pancake with one hand while holding a coin in the other, the coming year will bring prosperity (the round pancake is said to symbolize the sun). Finally, bouquets of the snowdrop flower, also called Candlemas bells, are brought inside on February 2. A legend says that an angel helped these flowers to bloom even though it was still winter as a sign of hope for Eve, who wept in despair at the cold and death that had entered the world, and those flowers have come to be a symbol of Christ bringing hope to the world. So, bring your candles to be blessed and celebrate Feb. 2 as a reminder of the coming of the Light of the World.

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

Reflections on Life
By Melvin Arrington
What comes to mind when you hear words like faithful, loyal, dedicated and committed? Most would probably think of some couple whose marriage has lasted sixty or seventy years. You might also give the example of someone who continues to work for the same organization for decades, despite more lucrative offers from other companies. Maybe you would consider an activist who has remained steadfast in support of a cause, even to the point of being jailed rather than compromise his beliefs. And let’s not forget those whose devotion to God is so strong that they seem to be involved in practically every ministry in their parish.
But the best example, the model we should all strive to emulate, is not related to human fidelity but rather to God’s. All throughout the Old Testament we find covenants the Lord made with His chosen people. And in every single case He kept His commitment, even though the Israelites failed to keep theirs. In fact, much of the Old Testament landscape is littered with these broken covenants and all sorts of other transgressions.

Scott Hahn, in his book A Father Who Keeps His Promises: God’s Covenant Love in Scripture, examines in detail the covenants God made with Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses and David, and the specific signs that accompanied each of them, namely – the Sabbath, the rainbow, circumcision, the Passover, and the everlasting throne, respectively. Hahn then demonstrates how the Lord fulfilled all those promises and brought them to fruition in Jesus, the New Covenant, under the sign of the Eucharist. Throughout the ages God has kept his commitments to His people. He is always faithful, even when we’re not.
Faithfulness, the seventh of the nine Fruits of the Spirit in Galatians 5:22-23, is an expression of love, a love that demands fidelity, loyalty and commitment. The latter quality is especially tricky, and it can become a sticking point because it’s usually easy to make a commitment but often much more problematic to follow through on it. St. Camillus (d. 1614) got to the heart of the matter when he observed: “Commitment is doing what you said you would do when the feeling you had when you said it has passed.”
As Christians we are called to keep our commitments to the poor, the sick, the immigrant, the outcast, the forgotten. But just saying that we love our neighbor is not enough. We are responsible for putting our faith into practice; we’ve got to move; we’ve got to act. Our calling is to be a beacon of hope to those in need. And the way we demonstrate that we care is by going out into our communities and ministering to our brothers and sisters with love and compassion. That’s what it means to be faithful. While it’s true that our efforts may not always produce positive results, we should take encouragement from these words of St. Teresa of Calcutta: “God does not ask us to be successful but to be faithful.”
So, have I been true to my calling? How am I doing with regard to my faithfulness? Well, to be honest, the answers would have to be “not always” and “from time to time not so good.” There have been occasions when I didn’t pray for someone who needed my prayers, instances when I made excuses for not calling, visiting, or writing someone who was ill or lonely and, sadly, moments when I refused to offer assistance to a person who was looking to me for a helping hand. In other words, I just flat out failed. But despite these failures, my neighbor is still out there, and he’s still counting on me.
Past shortcomings should never be used as an excuse for missing out on new service opportunities that come along every day. At some point we will surely fall, but when that happens our only option will be to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and get back to doing the work we’ve been called to do. After all, life is not a sprint. It’s a marathon, and we’ve all got to persevere if we’re going to go the distance on the spiritual path.
So, every morning, shortly after waking up, I try to remember to offer a little prayer asking the Lord to remind me of my responsibilities as a Christian, reveal to me specific service opportunities for the day, and also help me muster the energy to perform those tasks to the best of my ability. And when my strength begins to wane, I know God will come to my aid because, as I Thessalonians 5:24 says: “the one who calls you is faithful.” Heavenly Father, help me to always be faithful, too. Help me to be the “good and faithful servant” you want me to be, through Christ Our Lord. Amen.

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