IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
It is funny where the lessons of our classrooms are sometimes understood.
I studied philosophy when I was still a bit too young for it, a nineteen year-old studying the metaphysics of Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas. But something from a metaphysics course remains indelibly stamped in my mind. We learned that there are four “transcendental” properties to God: Scholastic metaphysics tells us that God is one, true, good and beautiful. My young mind then had some grasp of what is meant by true, good and beautiful since we have some common sense notions of what these are, but what is oneness? What is divine about being undivided?

The answer to that didn’t come to me in a classroom or in an academic discussion, even though I have often tried to explain its meaning to students in a classroom. It came to me in a grocery store.

I had been buying groceries in the same store for twelve years when a trivial incident helped explain God’s oneness and its importance to me. The store, a large supermarket, has a fruit isle where you pick up apples, oranges, grapefruits, bananas and the like and then bag them yourself in plastic bags the store supplies. Alongside the plastic bag dispensers there are small containers holding metal twisters you use to tie up the top of your bag. One day, I picked up some fruit put it into a bag, but all the containers containing the twisters were empty – every one of them. As I checked out my groceries, suspecting that possibly someone had taken them as a prank, I mentioned to the cashier that all the twisters were gone. Her answer took me aback: “But, sir, we have never had them in this store!” Thinking she might be new on the job, I said: “I’ve been coming here for more than ten years and you’ve always had them! You can even see their containers from here!” With an assurance that comes from absolute certitude, she replied: “I’ve been working here for a long time, and I can assure you we’ve never had them!”

I pushed things no further, but walking out of the store I thought this to myself: “If she’s right, then I’m certifiably insane! If she’s right then I’m completely out of touch with reality, have been for a long time, and I have no idea what sanity is!” I was certain that I had seen the twisters for ten years! Well, they had reappeared by the next time I entered the store and they are there today, but that little episodic challenge to my sanity taught me something. I now know what it means that God is one and why that is important.

That God is one (and not divided) is the very foundation for all rationality and sanity. That God is undivided and consistent within assures you that two plus two will always be four – and that you can anchor your sanity on that. That God is undivided assures you that if you saw package twisters in a store for twelve years, they were there … and you are not insane. That God is one is the basis for our sanity. It undergirds the principle of non-contradiction: Something is or it is not, it cannot be both; and two plus two can never be five – and that allows us to live rational, sane lives. Because God is undivided, we can trust our sanity.

The truth of this was never jeopardized by the great epistemological debates in history. Doubts about rationality and sanity do not come from Descartes, Kant, Hegel, Locke, Hume, Wittgenstein or Jacques Derrida; these philosophers merely argued about the structure of rationality, never about its existence. What jeopardizes our sanity (and is, no doubt, the greatest moral threat in our world today) is lying, the denial of facts, the changing of facts and the creation of fake facts. Nothing, absolutely nothing, is as dangerous and pernicious as lying or dishonesty. It is no accident that Christianity names Satan the prince of lies and teaches that lying is at the root of the unforgiveable sin against the Holy Spirit. When facts are no longer facts then our very sanity is under siege because lying corrupts the basis for rationality.

God is one! That means that there is no internal contradiction within God and that assures us that there is no internal contradiction possible within the structure of reality and within a sane mind. What has happened, has forever happened and cannot be denied. Two plus two will forever be four and because of that we can remain sane and trust reality enough to live coherent lives.

The single most dangerous thing in the whole world is lying, dishonesty and denying facts. To deny a fact is not only to play fast and loose with your own sanity and the very foundations of rationality; it is also to play fast and loose with God whose consistency undergirds all sanity and all meaning. God is one, undivided, consistent.

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser, theologian, teacher and award-winning author, is President of the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio, Texas. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com. Now on Facebook www.facebook.com/ronrolheiser)

THINGS OLD AND NEW
By Ruth Powers
In the long tradition of the church, the month of May has been traditionally devoted our Blessed Mother. The catholic devotion that is probably most closely connected to her is the rosary, so let’s take a look at how that form of prayer developed.
Catholics are not the first people to pray using beads. Beads or knotted cords were used by Hindus and Buddhists to keep track of prayers long before they advent of Christianity. In Christian practice the Desert Fathers in the third century were known to use stones or knotted “prayer ropes” to keep track of their daily recitation of the 150 psalms. A little later in the Eastern church the Jesus Prayer (“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me”) became popular and was repeated over and over while counting beads. In the Middle Ages the common people, who were often illiterate, wished to join in some way with the devotional prayer taking place in monasteries, where recitation of the 150 psalms was done daily. Since most people know the Our Father, they began to use strings of beads (called paternosters for the first words of the prayer) to count out the recitation of 150 Our Fathers in place of the psalms. In fact, the word bead, comes from the Old English word “bede,” which means prayer. These beads, and the prayers that went with them were sometimes called the poor man’s breviary.
The prayer most closely associated with the rosary, the Hail Mary, took over a thousand years to reach its modern form. The earliest version simply added the name of Mary to the words spoken by the angel in Luke 1:28. Repeating this phrase while counting 150 beads was popularized by Pope Gregory the Great (590-604). The second phrase from Luke 1:42 began to be added sometime between then and the early 13th century. The final petition (Holy Mary, mother of God, etc.) was added by St. Peter Canisius in his first catechism in 1555 and finalized in the Catechism of the Council of Trent in 1566.
Another development in the monasteries, that of adding a phrase relating to the life of Christ and His mother after each of the 150 psalms, led to the development of the mysteries of the rosary. These were simplified into the Joyful, Sorrowful, and Glorious Mysteries in the late 15th and early 16th centuries.
In 1569 Pope St. Pius V officially promulgated the rosary in the form we know now: 15 decades of Hail Marys introduced by the Our Father and concluded with the Glory Be, along with the 15 mysteries. The rosary remained unchanged for over 400 years until 2002, when Pope St. John Paul II introduced a fourth set of mysteries, the Luminous Mysteries. These mysteries add events of Christ’s public ministry to the meditations of the rosary. In his Apostolic Letter Rosarium Virginis Mariae, he proposed including events from Jesus ministry to help catholics enter more fully into the life of Jesus through the rosary.
Another addition to the rosary, although unofficial, occurred as a result of the appearances of Mary at Fatima in 1917. Mary told the three children who saw her to pray for world peace by reciting the rosary every day. She also asked the children to add a short prayer at the end of each decade: “O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell; lead all souls to heaven, especially those in most need of thy mercy.” Many catholics today incorporate this prayer into the rosary.
No discussion of the rosary would be complete without mention of St. Dominic Guzman (died 1221). There is a tradition that he devised the rosary as we know it after a vision of the Blessed Mother. The first written mention of this did not come until more than 250 years later in 1495 when it was mentioned by Pope Alexander VI as a “pious belief.” Scholars tend to doubt the story, as there are no mentions of it in the earliest accounts of Dominic’s life or in the Dominican constitutions, and paintings of St. Dominic from his lifetime and shortly after do not include it as a symbol to identify the saint. What cannot be doubted is that St. Dominic had great devotion to Mary, which he used effectively in his crusade to convert the Albigensian heretics in France and Italy, and may well have used the version of the rosary available in his time. However, we have seen that the form of the rosary that most catholics recognize today was the result of a long process of development culminating long after Dominic’s death. Some scholars think that this belief tying St. Dominic to the rosary may be due to confusing him early on with Dominic of Prussia, who did a great deal to promote the idea of meditating on the mysteries in the early 15th century). What we cannot doubt is that the rosary at all its stages of development has been a valuable practice for enriching the spiritual life of catholics.

(Ruth is the Program Coordinator for St. Mary Basilica Parish in Natchez. She has over 35 years’ experience as a catechist and theology teacher at all levels from preschool to graduate school.)

Reflections on Life
By Melvin Arrington
When I was in college in the late 1960s one of the recordings that received a lot of airtime on the radio was “Turn! Turn! Turn!” by the Byrds. The song, based on the first eight verses of Ecclesiastes chapter three, tells us there’s a time for everything. It ends with “a time for peace, I swear it’s not too late,” a line that was to those of my generation a direct reference to the Vietnam War.
No, it’s not too late for peace. We still need it in our country today, especially as the COVID-19 virus continues to spread. During these days of quarantine, soon to be measured in months, we have witnessed food rationing, hoarding and social distancing, the latter a practice totally contrary to the best instincts of human nature. Other public health restrictions on the size of gatherings have even resulted in the closing of churches. These situations have created a great deal of unrest and uncertainly and, among some, even panic. Yes, we need peace in our country today, but most of all we need it in our hearts.
In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus proclaimed, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” (Matthew 5:9) If we want to take on that role, we must first be at rest in our innermost being. And true peace, the third of the Fruits of the Spirit, can only come to those who have a personal relationship with Jesus.
Everyone longs for tranquility in at least some aspect of life – in our country, at the workplace, in the home – and we all long for peace of mind. But more importantly, what we really desire is peace of soul, that inner calm in the face of all life’s storms. So, how is it possible to attain it? Certainly not by attempting to forge it through our own efforts. There’s only one way, by surrender. Jesus said, “whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 10:39) If we believe what He said, St. Paul’s paradoxical statement, “When I am weak, then I am strong” (II Corinthians 12:10) actually makes sense.
People often say there’s no need to worry about things beyond our control. That’s easier said than done. Nevertheless, whatever burden I’m carrying, I need to give it up, and surrender it to Jesus. He’s in control, and He can handle things a lot better than I can.
What He offers is a supernatural form of peace, one that “surpasses all understanding.” (Philippians 4:7) So, when life becomes overwhelming, we ought to rely on His promises: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (John 14:27) No, the world can’t fulfill our deepest longings. Only Christ can do that.
The current crisis will one day pass, and another will take its place. We all had to change the way we live after 9/11, and we’re going to have to make even more adjustments in the wake of the current pandemic.
Right now, the whole world is in exile. We’re all experiencing isolation and separation from friends, neighbors, even family. Yet, despite these impositions, we now find ourselves with a lot of free time for reflection on the things that really matter. These days when I read and ponder Old Testament passages concerning the Babylonian captivity, those readings now suddenly seem relevant to modern times. And I’m beginning to have a better understanding of the loneliness and despair that many nursing home residents deal with on a daily basis. I’ve also developed a greater empathy for Central American refugees who find themselves separated from their loved ones. Dire situations faced by others always take on greater urgency when we are forced to experience those things for ourselves.
But hard times also bring out the inventiveness and ingenuity of the human spirit. Think of all the humorous responses we have seen to this crisis. That doesn’t mean the internet wits who created all those funny videos, pictures, drawings and sayings are not taking this virus seriously; on the contrary, they are using their creative talents to bring us together and make us strong. This is not about politics; it’s about health – mental, physical, and spiritual – and it’s about being at peace.
Yet, in spite of all the trials we face at the present moment, hope remains. At the conclusion of his livestreamed Easter 2020 Music for Hope concert from the Duomo di Milano, Andrea Bocelli walked out the doors of the empty cathedral to the deserted piazza facing it, and there he sang “Amazing Grace.” Especially moving was his inclusion of this often-omitted verse:
Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.
Everlasting peace, that’s the prize. “Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, grant us peace.”

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

Guest column
By James Tomek, Ph.D.
Is God punishing us with the coronavirus plague? Pope Francis named the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time “Word of God Sunday,” promoting Scripture study, prompting me to reflect on Mr. Skeffington, a Bette Davis movie whose title character’s first name is Job. Can we arrive at a better view of the biblical Job by reading it alongside of Job in the Bette Davis movie? Are there any connections to the biblical hero? The biblical book is about divine justice with Job questioning the morality of the Deuteronomic principle where being faithful to the covenant is rewarded while disobedience is punished. The main characters in the film seem morally motivated by a superficial view of beauty. I will compare the morality in the two works, connecting the concept of beauty to them, while trying to make a beatific conclusion.
The Biblical book can be seen in three acts. After surviving a bet between God and an adversary, where Job does not blaspheme God when he loses his family and possessions (Act I), Job is forced to confront three to four friends who interpret Job’s misfortunes as a sign of covenant disobedience. The central part (Act II) is a poetic dialog between Job and the friends where Job laments his existence, believing his punishment way out of line with his actions. He calls on God to respond (Act III). Upon God’s response, Job remains quiet, not blaspheming God or himself, realizing that he has not enough knowledge to continue his complaint. In the beauty of his humble lament, God restores Job while disapproving the friends’ moral stance.
Mr. Skeffington has three acts. In 1914 New York (Act I), Fanny Trelleis (Bette Davis) is a beauty courted by three to four silly suitors. She is superficial and only loves her brother Trippy whom she saves by marrying Job Skeffington, a stockbroker that her brother embezzled from and who ends up being seduced by Fanny’s beauty. In Act II, the war years and the 1920s, Fanny continues flirting with her suitors while Job is content to patiently wait for her attention. The portrait that he has painted of Fanny becomes a substitute for her love. Upon Trippy’s death their marriage dissolves. In Act III, diphtheria attacks Fanny’s beauty. She comes to her senses when she sees that one suitor wants to marry her for her money and she eventually reconciles with Job who had lost his ill gotten money, made upon advanced news of World War I breaking out, and who comes home blind, but still in love with her. The film ends with the conclusion that a woman is only beautiful when she is loved.
The biblical Job refutes the Deuteronomic principle of God rewarding the just and punishing the unjust. This morality is based on sanctions. Rewards or punishments for actions is no morality at all. Job risks his life by not accepting easy answers (idols). The beauty of his humble lament becomes a beatitude moving God to pardon his questioning. The 1944 film is about the real nature of beauty. The notion, “a woman is only beautiful when loved” needs a different point of view. Simone Weil, in her essay Waiting for God, contends that waiting is a key for religious action. Her waiting is from the French attente, which is a “paying attention” wait, or search for God, the source of love and truth – or beauty. There is a purity or beauty in real love when it is not concerned with rewards or being useful. Weil mistrusts eating as a vulgar wish to consume, with consumption being an idolatrous activity. With the “host” at Mass, we are not consuming it physically as much as showing a desire to be food for others.
The beauty in Mr. Skeffington is more of the “idol” type. Fanny is a superficial socialite who lives off the flattery of her voracious suiters who only want to be seen with her. Job Skeffington is a ruthless stockbroker taking advantage of the outbreak of world war. The only way he can preserve Fanny’s love is by having a portrait made of her that he can idolize. In the third act, reality hits hard as Fanny realizes that she is not loved and that she has thrown away her potential chances as mother and wife. A woman is only beautiful when she is loved is the conclusion.
The biblical Job writer blows apart the Deuteronomic principle of virtue rewarded and vice punished. This interpretation places us with Job’s friends. Real virtue is not accomplished by utility. Actions done with the wish of a reward become idols and are not much different than actions done in evil. The real action in this story is that Job calls God into conversation. He risks everything by questioning the Deuteronomic principle and is rewarded by starting a dialog about the nature of truth and goodness. His lament is beautiful. Mr. Skeffington goes from silly melodrama to a morality play when we question what real beauty is. A woman is beautiful only when loved should be read as a woman is truly only beautiful when she loves. Purity is achieved when we leave our egos, seeing that real beauty is doing the right thing for and in itself. This beauty becomes a beatitude or state of blessedness, seen at Mass, especially when we sing the lament psalms, asking God for help. Is God punishing us with the coronavirus or calling on us to do the right thing? Paying attention becomes an important part of waiting.

(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
Most of us have heard of St. Therese of Lisieux, a French mystic who died at age 24 in 1897 and who is perhaps the most popular saint of the last two centuries. She’s famous for many things, not least for a spirituality she called her “little way.”

Popular thought has often encrusted both Therese and her “little way” within a simple piety which doesn’t do justice to the depth of her person or her spirituality. Too often her “little way” is understood simply to mean that we do little, hidden, humble, acts of charity for others in the name of Jesus, without expecting anything in return. In this popular interpretation we do the laundry, peel potatoes, and smile at unpleasant people to please Jesus. In some ways, of course, this is true; however her “little way” merits a deeper understanding.

Yes, it does ask us to do humble chores and be nice to each other in the name of Jesus but there are deeper dimensions to it. Her “little way” is a path to sanctity based on three things: littleness, anonymity and a particular motivation.

Littleness: For Therese “littleness” does not refer first of all to the littleness of the act that we are doing, like the humble tasks of doing the laundry, peeling potatoes or giving a simple smile to someone who’s unpleasant. It refers to our own littleness, to our own radical poverty before God. Before God, we are little. To accept and act out of that constitutes humility. We move towards God and others in her “little way” when we do small acts of charity for others, not out of our strength and the virtue we feel at that moment, but rather out of a poverty, powerlessness and emptiness that allows God’s grace to work through us so that in doing what we’re doing we’re drawing others to God and not to ourselves.

As well, our littleness makes us aware that, for the most part, we cannot do the big things that shape world history. But we can change the world more humbly, by sowing a hidden seed, by being a hidden antibiotic of health inside the soul of humanity and by splitting the atom of love inside our own selves. And yes, too, the “little way” is about doing little, humble, hidden things.

Anonymity: Therese’s “little way” refers to what’s hidden, to what’s done in secret, so that what the Father sees in secret will be rewarded in secret. And what’s hidden is not our act of charity, but we, ourselves, who are doing the act. In Therese’s “little way” our little acts of charity will go mostly unnoticed, will seemingly have no real impact on world history and won’t bring us any recognition. They’ll remain hidden and unnoticed; but inside the Body of Christ what’s hidden, selfless, unnoticed, self-effacing, and seemingly insignificant and unimportant is the most vital vehicle of all for grace at a deeper level. Just as Jesus did not save us through sensational miracles and headline-making deeds but through selfless obedience to his Father and quiet martyrdom, our deeds too can remain unknown so that our deaths and the spirit we leave behind can become our real fruitfulness.

Finally, her “little way” is predicated on a particular motivation. We are invited to act out of our littleness and anonymity and do small acts of love and service to others for a particular reason, that is, to, metaphorically, wipe the face of the suffering Christ. How so?

Therese of Lisieux was an extremely blessed and gifted person. Despite a lot of tragedy in her early life, she was (by her own admission and testimony of others) loved in a way that was so pure, so deep and so wonderfully affectionate that it leaves most people in envy. She was also a very attractive child and was bathed in love and security inside an extended family within which her every smile and tear were noticed, honored and often photographed. But as she grew in maturity it didn’t take her long to notice that what was true in her life wasn’t true of most others. Their smiles and tears went mostly unnoticed and were not honored. Her “little way” is therefore predicated on this particular motivation.

In her own words: “One Sunday, looking at a picture of Our Lord on the Cross, I was struck by the blood flowing from one of his divine hands. I felt a pang of great sorrow when thinking this blood was falling on the ground without anyone’s hastening to gather it up. I was resolved to remain in spirit at the foot of the Cross and to receive its dew. … Oh, I don’t want this precious blood to be lost. I shall spend my life gathering it up for the good of souls. … To live from love is to dry Your Face.”

To live her “little way” is to notice and honor the unnoticed tears falling from the suffering faces of others.

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser, theologian, teacher and award-winning author, is President of the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio, Texas. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com. Now on Facebook www.facebook.com/ronrolheiser)

GUEST COLUMN
By Sister Constance Veit, LSP
During February my thoughts turn to two of my favorite biblical figures, Simeon and Anna.

Simeon is described in St. Luke’s Gospel simply as “a man in Jerusalem” and Anna as an 84-year-old “prophetess.” These two elders greet Mary and Joseph as they bring their newborn infant to the Temple in Jerusalem to present him to the Lord. We celebrate this moment in Jesus’ life, referred to as the Presentation in the Temple, on February 2.

Simeon and Anna are not just two pious old people making a fuss over a baby. Each one had been waiting for the coming of the Lord for many years. Their whole lives were defined by their patient, prayerful waiting. When the moment came, they recognized Jesus as the Messiah and testified on his behalf before all the people.

Pope Francis wrote, “When Mary and Joseph reached the temple to fulfill the law, Simeon and Anna jumped to their feet. They were moved by the Holy Spirit. This elderly couple recognized the child and discovered a new inner strength that allowed them to bear witness.”

Simeon and Anna have an important message for our time. They represent the crucial role of older people who “have the courage to dream,” as Pope Francis said. “Only if our grandparents have the courage to dream and our young people imagine great things will our society go on.” Francis believes that older people who dream are able to move forward creatively as they envision a future.

“Without the witness of their elders’ lives, the plans of young people will have neither roots nor wisdom,” he said. “Today more than ever, the future generates anxiety, insecurity, mistrust and fear. Only the testimony of elders will help young people look above the horizon to see the stars. Just learning that it is worth fighting for something will help young people face the future with hope.”

We Little Sisters are privileged to share our lives with many successors of Simeon and Anna – older people who have persevered in their faith through the years as they sought a better life for themselves and their loved ones.

Among them is a woman I know who poured her life-savings into the rehabilitation of a child stuck in the cycle of drug addiction, and who later sacrificed her own comfort to support three generations of her family members who were displaced after a hurricane ravaged their island home.

Another resident, a tiny woman in her mid-80’s, divides her time between helping in our chapel and working in the parish founded by her priest-brother – the only Vietnamese parish in our diocese – helping with sundry tasks and taking Holy Communion to the sick.

I recently attended Mass at this Vietnamese parish as part of our annual fund raising appeal and enjoyed seeing our resident in action. While she and many of the women of the parish wore their traditional Vietnamese tunics and flowing pants in bright hues and varied designs, most of the young people came to church in the jeans, yoga pants and baggy sweatshirts typical of American youth.

The liturgy was completely in Vietnamese. I saw what a fine line these young people walk – with one foot planted firmly in the land of their parents and grandparents and the other in America.

I was touched to see that even the young people venerated our resident. As she scurried around the church attending to many details, she would give the young people a quick word of direction in Vietnamese or a charming smile of encouragement.

Our residents embody Pope Francis’ dream of elders as “a choir of a great spiritual sanctuary, where prayers of supplication and songs of praise support the larger community that works and struggles in the field of life.”

Although I am not yet a senior it won’t be long before I am, and I am grateful for the example of our residents who, like Simeon and Anna, are teaching me how to assume the mantle of a wise elder in the believing community.

(Sister Constance Veit is director of communications for the Little Sisters of the Poor. )

From the hermitage
By sister alies therese
It is Catholic Schools Week and where do we find ourselves and Jesus? He was 12, just a tween on the verge of teenager-ness. We are almost a month in from the coming of Jesus at the nativity, celebrating the shepherds, Wise Men and Jesus the refugee into Egypt. We have seen Anna and Simeon with Jesus for the first time in the Temple where He is “recognized as the long-expected Messiah, the light of the nations, and the glory of Israel, but also a sign that is spoken against. The sword of sorrow promised to Mary announces Christ’s perfect and unique oblation on the Cross that will impart the salvation God had prepared in the presence of all peoples.” (530) We have also celebrated His return to Nazareth, not Bethlehem, and the Holy Family’s life together. Curiously, however, we have no more information until this story breaks into the ‘hidden life.’
The Catholic Catechism lets us know that He, like other boys His age, would have been spending a “daily life without evident greatness, a life of manual labor. His religious life was that of an obedient Jew to the law of God, a life in the community … it is revealed to us that Jesus was obedient to His parents and that He increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and the human community.” (531)
Remembering age 12, in the seventh grade, I too was without evident greatness, but avoided manual labor and was not that obedient to my parents! Oops. It was the year I was preparing to be confirmed, tackling many new subjects at middle school and was pretty good at sports. I also began to feel a call to religious life. I attended CCD at the local Catholic school where the Sisters taught us. Being a high introvert, however, I took a page from Mary’s book and ‘pondered these things in my heart.’
Did Jesus really make little clay birds fly for His friends in the village? This and other stories floated around trying to disavow the ‘humanness’ of Jesus. Or should I say, tried to take away any of the things passed down by Mary’s side of the family? For Jesus to show how He is ultimately ‘Savior,” He needs all that was human as well as God. Personally, I vote no on the clay birds flying.
Some 12-year old’s are very bright and perceptive. Twelve is not a child. In Jewish tradition, it’s time for bar or bat mitzvah, admitting the young person into the adult community. Today with so much screen time, a 12-year-old is either much brighter and smarter than we were, or very much more sluggish. I’ve met both. But are they ‘wise?’ What transpires in each of our hidden lives?
Jesus is supposed to be returning home after the Feast of Passover in Jerusalem. Look at Luke 2:41 and read the whole story. Since Jesus was considered almost an adult, He probably didn’t spend a lot of time with His parents during the feast. Some NIV notes indicated that 12-year old’s could be in a caravan with their parents or as with Jesus, thought to be in the other caravan with the men. But, when the caravan did leave Jerusalem, He stayed behind because he had been talking and listening to the teachers and they were listening to Him. During Passover, the greatest Rabbis were there, and they assembled people and had master classes of sorts and long discussions. The coming of the Messiah was a big topic and perhaps this interested Jesus. The notes from the NIV conclude, it was not Jesus’ youth that impressed them, “but His wisdom.”
St. Pope Paul VI, spoke at Nazareth in 1964, on the Feast of the Holy Family: “The home at Nazareth is the school where we begin to understand the life of Jesus — the school of the Gospel. First a lesson of silence… A lesson on family life. May Nazareth teach us what family life is, its communion of love … A lesson of work. Nazareth, home of the ‘Carpenter’s Son,’ I would understand the redeeming law of human work … I want to greet all the workers of the world, holding up to them their great pattern, their brother who is God.” (533)
So, students who are you learning from? Are you paying attention to those who can assist and help you move forward into your vocation as these Rabbis helped the young man Jesus that you will be of service? Don’t be afraid to be serious about your search – listen and learn. And, families, often very broken and in pain, remember that love is the bottom line in the Holy Family or in your ‘Holy’ family. Brokenness lets the light through and I dare say often brings wisdom.
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.)