The Lord doesn’t require us to achieve a certain level of measurable success, but only to be faithful. St. Mother Teresa of Calcutta said this during her long life of ministry to the poor of India, and it is important that all of us take stock of that call at the end of this year.

In the Department of Vocations, success could very easily be measured: How many new seminarians do we have signed up for next year? It is tempting for me to take stock in this way, and yet constantly the Lord gives me examples of how success does not exist in hard numbers. In this year, my first year (or at least part of a year) as the full-time Vocation Director, I have seen our seminarians be formed into more virtuous men who look out for one another and have a deep love for the people of our diocese. I have watched as many discerners have experienced a taste of seminary life and have learned more about God’s call for them. I have spoken with many of you about sharing a vision for the future health of our diocese by supporting the mission of this department. There is one way in which worldly “success” can be measured, but there are many more ways that faithfulness can be measured.

Disciples of the Lord are known by the fruits that they produce in the world, and there have been many fruits born from this department this year. One of the greatest is the unity of the seminarians that we currently have and their dedication to praying for one another. In the summer Bishop Kopacz and seminarian Ryan Stoer came up with a plan to pray for one another more intentionally. On the first Thursday of every month, the seminarians, myself and Bishop Kopacz have committed to praying a holy hour before the Blessed Sacrament from 6-7 a.m. Since we started this in August, we all have experienced an increase in our bond of charity that goes beyond a dinner together or shared experiences of formation. This is what I am most excited to share with you as we look toward a new year. I have no idea how many new seminarians we will have in the Fall of 2021, but I am hopeful. I am hopeful because the faith of the men who are a part of this mission with me and of so many of you who have helped financially and spiritually this year is strong.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Please pray for more laborers for the harvest, and pray that the men who are laboring now, including myself, remain faithful.

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. That’s a pious axiom that doesn’t always hold up. Sometimes the bad time comes and we don’t learn anything. Hopefully this present bad time, COVID-19, will teach us something and make us stronger. My hope is that COVID-19 will teach us something that previous generations didn’t need to be taught but already knew through their lived experience; namely, that we’re not invulnerable, that we aren’t exempt from the threat of sickness, debilitation and death. In short, all that our contemporary world can offer us in terms of technology, medicine, nutrition and insurance of every kind, doesn’t exempt us from fragility and vulnerability. COVID-19 has taught us that. Just like everyone else who has ever walked this earth, we’re vulnerable.

I’m old enough to have known a previous generation when most people lived with a lot of fear, not all of it healthy, but all of it real. Life was fragile. Giving birth to a child could mean your death. A flu or virus could kill you and you had little defense against it. You could die young from heart disease, cancer, diabetes, bad sanitation, and dozens of other things. And nature itself could pose a threat. Storms, hurricanes, tornadoes, drought, pestilence, lightening, these were all to be feared because we were mostly helpless against them. People lived with a sense that life and health were fragile, not to be taken for granted.
But then along came vaccinations, penicillin, better hospitals, better medicines, safer childbirth, better nutrition, better housing, better sanitation, better roads, better cars and better insurance against everything from loss of work, to drought, to storms, to pestilence, to disasters of any kind. And along with that came an ever-increasing sense that we’re safe, protected, secure, different than previous generations, able to take care of ourselves, no longer as vulnerable as were the generations before us.
And to a large extent that’s true, at least in terms of our physical health and safety. In many ways, we’re far less vulnerable than previous generations. But, as COVID-19 has made evident, this is not a fully safe harbor. Despite much denial and protest, we’ve had to accept that we now live as did everyone before us, that is, as unable to guarantee own health and safety. For all the dreadful things COVID-19 has done to us, it has helped dispel an illusion, the illusion of our own invulnerability. We’re fragile, vulnerable, mortal.
At first glance, this seems like a bad thing; it’s not. Disillusionment is the dispelling of an illusion and we have for too long (and too glibly) been living an illusion, that is, living under a pall of false enchantment which has us believing that the threats of old no longer have power to touch us. And how wrong we are! As of the time of this writing there are 70.1 million COVID-19 cases reported worldwide and there have been more than 1.6 million reported deaths from this virus. Moreover the highest rates of infection and death have been in those countries we would think most invulnerable, countries that have the best hospitals and highest standards of medicine to protect us. That should be a wake-up call. For all the good things our modern and post-modern world can give us, in the end it can’t protect us from everything, even as it gives us the sense that it can.
COVID-19 has been a game-changer; it has dispelled an illusion, that of our own invulnerability. What’s to be learned? In short, that our generation must take its place with all other generations, recognizing that we cannot take life, health, family, work, community, travel, recreation, freedom to gather, and freedom to go to church, for granted. COVID-19 has taught us that we’re not the Lord of life and that fragility is still the lot of everyone, even in a modern and post-modern world.
Classical Christian theology and philosophy have always taught that as humans we are not self-sufficient. Only God is. Only God is “Self-sufficient Being” (Ipsum Esse Subsistens, in classical philosophy). The rest of us are contingent, dependent, interdependent … and mortal enough to fear the next appointment with our doctor. Former generations, because they lacked our medical knowledge, our doctors, our hospitals, our standards of hygiene, our medicines, our vaccines, and our antibiotics, existentially felt their contingency. They knew they weren’t self-sufficient and that life and health could not be taken for granted. I don’t envy them some of the false fear that came with that, but I do envy them not living under a pall of false security.
Our contemporary world, for all the good things it gives us, has lulled us asleep in terms of our fragility, vulnerability, and mortality. COVID-19 is a wake-up call, not just to the fact that we’re vulnerable, but especially to the fact that we may not take for granted the precious gifts of health, family, work, community, travel, recreation, freedom to gather, and (yes) even of going to church.

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

Kneading Faith
By Fran Lavelle
For me, there is something so immensely inviting about a cold grey December morning. Perhaps it invokes memories of Winter growing up on our farm in Southeastern Ohio. There is a stillness in a cold grey day that creates room for a pause. It is that pause that I most appreciate. Instead of jumping into the activity of the day I feel permission to sit with a cup of coffee and gaze out the window. I recently had such an experience Saturday morning a few weeks back. Surrounded by incredible peace, for a moment I forgot that our country and the world is being ravished by a pandemic. I also forgot that our politics in this country have become so polarized that death threats levied against political opponents has become commonplace.
It has been a long year. It has been a difficult year; for some much more than others. I try to look for meaning in times that seem senseless and hope in the midst of grief. There are many factors that continue to lead us away from seeing one another as God’s beloved children. What we consume on cable news networks and social media play a big part in that widening chasm. Reconciling our communities with divergent very public (some might say vitriol) views is no small task. Two keen examples are our response to the virus (particularly mask wearing) and the outcome of the recent election. If our faith is what is going to save us, then we need to be willing to put into practice what we believe.
I have spent some time this Fall reading Fratelli Tutti, Pope Francis’ most recent encyclical letter. The thesis of Fratelli Tutti is a timely call for the human family to acknowledge the dignity of one another. In framing the issue of our indifference to one another he is brutally honest about how far we are from true fraternal love. The scriptural centerpiece of this plea is the parable of the Good Samaritan. His approach to Scripture is very Ignatian. He reflects on the characters in the story and asks the reader to imagine themselves in the story in each character role. This mechanism builds a greater understanding of the complexity of the characters and builds a better understanding of the bigger picture. He then takes us deeper into our own reality and challenges us to reflect on whether our actions align with our vision and fulfill our mission.
Pope Francis was very successful in using the Parable of the Good Samaritan to illustrate the meaning of fraternal care. He adeptly negotiates the landscape of identifying not only the issues but allowing for reflection and action. His vision is always aligned with the mission of the Gospel. The continuity of that messaging was an “Ah Ha” moment for me.
If the goal of a leader is to articulate a vision and to motivate others to share in and carry out the vision, clear and accessible communication is necessary. So is honesty in assessing the current situation. We need to be realistic about where we are to successfully map out the path to where we want to go.
I do not think anyone relishes the constant reminders that we are a deeply divided country. I think that most Americans, and really all of humanity, want to live in peace. We cannot expect that government or Church leaders can solely change this narrative. We must all participate if change is to be sustainable. If we all spent less time following social media and more time following the Gospel, we would be less anxious and more hopeful. We do not change the narrative by adding to the cacophony of noise. We change the narrative by turning to God and one another and living the Gospel.
I was recently reminded of the World War I Christmas Truce. On Christmas Eve, German and British troops fighting in World War I sang Christmas carols to each other across the lines. Christmas morning after white flags appeared from both sides, soldiers emerged from their trenches and shook hands with one another. They shared food and drink. There is documentation of soldiers from opposing sides playing a good-natured game of soccer. If amid a World War, so called dehumanized enemies can stop fighting and see one another the way God sees us – as one family – I know we can do the same. This Christmas give yourself a gift. Raise a white flag. Surrender to peace. The division ends when we stop giving our energy to it.

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

AMID THE FRAY
By Greg Erlandson
You’ve heard about the war on Christmas. But have you heard about the war on holly jolly?
It’s a war my wife Corine has waged for some years now. It always starts the same way, my children will tell you. Something pushes her button – one too may grinning snowmen, one too many commercials where fabulously beautiful couples give each other cars with red bows on top, one too many images of idyllic consumerism, in other words.
When she snaps, she turns to whichever child is walking with her down some overstuffed department store aisle and says: “There are two kinds of Christmases, the spiritual and the holly jolly. And the holly jolly just drives people crazy.”

When challenged about her war on holly jolly, she may blame it on my father, who lambasted Christmas for its “forced gaity,” a phrase that is just begging to be adopted as the name of a sullen rock band.
The holly jolly is all the accoutrement of Christmas that has virtually nothing to do with the Christ Child’s arrival. It is all the stuff that, well, really ticked off the Grinch: All the noise, noise, noise and excessive fa la la.
My wife would say that the Grinch had a point. All the marketing images forced upon us for months on end with happy couples, happy children, happy pets all sharing in perfect “Xmas” delight doesn’t just sell us stuff. It can make us feel bad.
All sorts of people know that they are a long way from these images. At this irrationally exuberant time of year, they feel like they are failing if they aren’t equally exuberant as they struggle to live up to these expectations of holly jolly. Counselors tell us that rates of depression go way up around Christmas, and the internet is crowded with articles on how to relieve this stress.
This year, it has to be worse. We have a pandemic, isolation and unemployment on top of the normal pressures of the season.
Which is why I am proposing to my wife that we call a truce in the war on holly jolly. What I’ve been noticing this year is that people have been putting up lights earlier. Trees seem to be going up earlier too. Christmas music weeks and weeks before Christmas isn’t irritating. It’s soothing. The holly jolly aspect is maybe just what we need: It’s aromatherapy and light therapy for survivors of a dark and miserable year.
Holly jolly, in fact, may be one of the few signs of normalcy we’ve been able to enjoy this year. So let’s make the most of it. Bring out the gingerbread houses! Take cookies over to the neighbors! Put on an extra strand of lights! Turn off “The Crown” and the evening news and watch the Christmas classics. It is a wonderful life, after all, even now.
And at the same time, light the Advent wreath candles. Go to Mass once during the week. Bring in an extra bag of groceries for the food pantry or send a donation to your favorite charity. Don’t worry about doing 50 Christmas cards, but do 10. Enclose a personal note and send them to people who might really need a kind word.
And don’t forget that there are 12 days of Christmas, so keep the holly jolly going at least till Jan. 6. In fact, keep those Christmas lights up the whole month. Give your neighbors something to smile about.
It has been a rough year for so many of us. Let’s be kind to ourselves and to each other. I’m pretty sure that this year, it’s what the Christ Child would want.

(Greg Erlandson is the director and editor-in-chief of Catholic News Service.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
Maturity has various levels. Basic maturity is defined as having essentially outgrown the instinctual selfishness with which we were born so that our motivation and actions are now shaped by the needs of others and not just by our own needs. That’s the basic minimum, the low bar for maturity. After that there are degrees and levels, contingent upon how much our motivation and actions are altruistic rather than selfish.
In the Gospels, Jesus invites us to ever deeper degrees of maturity, though sometimes we can miss the invitation because it presents itself subtly and not as explicitly worded moral invitation. One such subtle, but very deep, invitation to a higher degree of maturity is given in the incident where Jesus weeps over Jerusalem. What’s inside this image?

Here’s the image and its setting. Jesus has just been rejected, both in his person and in his message and he sees clearly the pain the people will bring upon themselves by that rejection. What’s his reaction? Does he react in the way most of us would: Well the hell with you! I hope you suffer the full consequences of your own stupidity! No. He weeps, like a loving parent dealing with a wayward child; he wishes with every fiber in his being that he could save them from the consequences of their own bad choices. He feels their wound rather than gleefully contemplating their suffering.
There’s a double challenge here. First, there’s a personal one: are we gleeful when people who reject our advice suffer for their wrong-headedness or do we weep inside us for the pain they have brought onto themselves? When we see the consequences in people’s lives of their own bad choices, be it with irresponsibility, with laziness, with drugs, with sex, with abortion, with ideology, with anti-religious attitudes, or with bad will, are we gleeful when those choices begin to snake-bite them (Well, you got what you deserved!) or do we weep for them, for their misfortune?
Admittedly, it’s hard not be gleeful when someone who rejects what we stand for is then snake-bitten by his own stubborn choice. It’s the natural way the heart works and so empathy can demand a very high degree of maturity. For example, during this COVID-19 pandemic, medical experts (almost without exception) have been telling us to wear masks to protect others and ourselves. What’s our spontaneous reaction when someone defies that warning, thinks he is smarter than the doctors, doesn’t wear a mask, and then contracts the virus? Do we secretly bask in the cathartic satisfaction that he got what he deserved or do we, metaphorically, “weep over Jerusalem?”
Beyond the challenge to each of us to move towards a higher level of maturity, this image also contains an important pastoral challenge for the church. How do we, as a church, see a secularized world that has rejected many of our beliefs and values? When we see the consequences the world is paying for this are we gleeful or sympathetic? Do we see the secularized world with all the problems it is bringing onto itself by its rejection of some Gospel values as an adversary (someone from whom we need to protect ourselves) or as our own suffering child? If you’re a parent or grandparent who’s suffering over a wayward child or grandchild you probably understand what it means to “weep over Jerusalem.”
Moreover the struggle to “weep over” our secularized world (or over anyone who rejects what we stand for) is compounded by yet another dynamic which militates against sympathy. There’s a perverse emotional and psychological propensity inside us which works this way. Whenever we are hurting badly, we need to blame someone, need to be angry at someone, and need to lash out at someone. And you know who we always pick for that? Someone we feel safe enough to hurt because we know that he or she is mature enough not to hit back!
There’s a lot of lashing out at the church today. Granted, there are a lot of legitimate reasons for this. Given the church’s shortcomings, part of that hostility is justified; but some of that hostility often goes beyond what’s justified. Along with the legitimate anger there’s sometimes a lot of free-floating, gratuitous anger. What’s our reaction to that unjustified anger and unfair accusation? Do we react in kind?“You are way out of line here, go take that anger elsewhere! Or, like Jesus weeping over Jerusalem, can we meet unfair anger and accusation with tears of empathy and a prayer that a world that’s angry with us will be spared the pain of its own bad choices?
Soren Kierkegaard famously wrote: Jesus wants followers, not admirers! Wise words. In Jesus’ reaction to his own rejection, his weeping over Jerusalem, we see the epitome of human maturity. To this we are called, personally and as an ecclesial community. We also see there that a big heart feels the pain of others, even of those others who reject you.

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

GUEST COLUMN
By Reba J. McMellon, M.S.,LPC
Coping doesn’t sound very festive, but it is an undeniable part of our holiday season. We cope with expectations others have of us. We are coping with the expectations we put on ourselves. And we try to cope with time deadlines, long lines and even perhaps ghosts from Christmas past. The holiday season is about jazzing up life during the winter season. A wonderful way to cope is to think about ways you can jazz up your life. Not the neighbor’s life, the economy or anything else. Jazz up life for you. If you enjoy certain traditions, do them. If you don’t enjoy the traditions or begin to find them monotonous, change them. Remember, it’s about jazzing up your life.

Centering is a must in an effort to cope. Take some time to center yourself. Focus on what holds value and meaning for you this holiday season. Forgetting to center can have the same results as forgetting to breath. You’ll get lightheaded and dizzy and feel like you just might faint.
In fact, after a prolonged period of being off center, you might find the thought of fainting for a few minutes oddly comforting. Centering can be done in three minutes or less.
For instance, instead of trying desperately to pass the slow driver in front of you, relax and enjoy the easy pace. Or sit in your car in the parking lot of the shopping center for about three minutes, just breathing. Another idea is to simply sit in your own living room and look around at all the comforts of home-quietly. Try smiling during these times. It’s amazing how far this will go to center your body, mind and spirit.
Caring is paramount to making the holiday season a positive one. We are all guilty of getting so caught up in holiday planning and pleasing, we find ourselves with no strength or energy left to truly care about our family and friends. Take away the glitter and decorations, the ribbons and bows and examine the true gift underneath.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if it were possible to wrap up a big box of caring and give it to the ones you love. Opening a big box of caring and love given to you by others would be wonderful as well. Showing more love and concern for each other goes a long, long way. In our communities, churches, synagogues and families, truly caring for one another will last long after the tree is taken down and the holiday decorations are packed away for another year.
Celebrate what it is you truly love. That can include most anything. Eat special holiday foods that you don’t indulge in the rest of the year. Think eggnog, or cheese straws; or candy canes and fudge.
Remember which songs you love to hear and sing during this season only. Play them, dance to them and sing them. If you have happy holiday memories, share them. Something as simple as putting a red bow on your pet’s collar can be a celebration of the season.
Learn a little about how Christian cultures around the world celebrate Christmas and maybe adopt some new ideas. Sometimes the best celebrations are quiet contemplations.
When we center ourselves, truly care for our family and friends, use our coping skills and celebrate the True Meaning of Christmas, we might look forward to doing it again next year. Masks or no masks.

(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 abuse for over 25 years. She continues to work as a mental health consultant and freelance writer. Reba can be reached at rebaj@bellsouth.net)

Making a Difference
By Tony Magliano
More than anything else the world needs saints! And that is exactly what God is urging you and me to become. Not next week, not next month, not next year, but now is the time humanity needs us to decisively commit our lives to faithfully walk in the footsteps of the Lord Jesus – just like thousands of canonized saints and countless little known saints have done throughout the centuries.
Well, you may think that you are not the stuff saints are made of; that you can’t possibly be that good, that kind, that generous, that just, that peaceful, that selfless, that prayerful, that loving, that Christ-centered, that holy. And you’re right, that is, if you think you can become a saint solely through your own efforts.
The desire of becoming a saint, and the life-long ongoing effort it takes to progress toward that most important goal, cannot be attained if you and I simply rely on just our own will-power, talents and skills. The age-old temptations of the world, the flesh and the devil are far too powerful; they will overwhelm our best intentions.

Rather, sainthood is a gift from God. For only the Divine Holy One can fill us with divine life. But for divine grace, divine life to enter and evermore fill us, we must cooperate with God’s grace. We must consistently open our minds and hearts to the ultimate power of God and God’s love, and what God is calling us to do, and then the evil one will have no power over us. For as the psalmist says, “I keep the Lord always before me; with him at my right hand, I shall never be shaken.” So, it is essential for us to stay focused on the Lord!
Similarly, in the words of St. Paul, let us likewise “put on the Lord Jesus Christ!” And may our lives also echo his acclamation that in God “we live and move and have our being.”
You and I were created by God to fully immerse ourselves in the Gospel of the Lord Jesus; to daily pray over it, think about it, and radiate it in word and deed.
To love God with our whole soul, heart, strength and mind, and to love everyone as we love ourselves is how a saint lives her or his life. This way of life – the only way to fully live life – is the only sure, comprehensive, lasting cure for all that ails our largely sick world and wounded planet.
From abortion to euthanasia, from gun violence to war, from poverty and hunger to homelessness, from drug cartels to refugees, from child labor to human trafficking, and from pollution to climate change the world is desperately in need of saints!
Be inspired, sign-up to receive Saint of the Day (see: https://bit.ly/34Gwgkx).
Each holy person not only inspires others to strive for holiness, but also prays and works to change what St. Pope John Paul II called “structures of sin” into structures justice and peace; thus answering the saint’s clarion call to build the “culture of life.”
In his new social encyclical letter titled Fratelli Tutti (“All Brothers”), Pope Francis urges us to encounter one another – especially those human beings existing on the margins, victims of the “throwaway culture” – and to build-up a world of “universal fraternity” and “social friendship” where welcoming replaces exclusion, where bridges replace walls, where mutual respect replaces distain, where nonviolence replaces violence, where social justice replaces greed and where fraternal love replaces hate and indifference. (see: https://bit.ly/3e4NsDb)

(Tony Magliano is an internationally syndicated Catholic social justice and peace columnist. He is available to speak at diocesan or parish gatherings. Tony can be reached at tmag6@comcast.net.)