Category Archives: Columnists

The three pillars: reason, religion, loving kindness

Posted on by
Reply

Kneading faith
By Fran Lavelle
I often say that we stand on the shoulders of jerks and giants. From the jerks we learn important lessons of who we do not want to become. Without naming names, I had several bosses in my adolescence and post-college years who fit into this category. They were less than gracious when it came out to dealing with conflict and non-existent when it came to offering praise. These bosses gave me insight as to who I did not want to be.
Thankfully we also stand on the shoulders of giants. These are the people who, by their example, teach us how to treat others with respect, care for those in need, and provide a loving environment for those around them. I imagine you can quickly identify in your own life one or two jerks as well as several giants that have helped shape and form you for the better. My list of giants is quite large. My dad certainly tops the list. I still reflect on the lessons he taught me and find myself reaching for the phone even though he has been gone for many years.
So too in the Church we have examples of both. The stories of those who violate the trust of the faithful go back to the beginning of Church. Unfortunately, those stories have impacted far too many people over time. Thankfully the Church in her wisdom preserves the canon of Saints as a litany of giants to inspire us to live holy lives.
I was recently thumbing through book of saints and stumbled upon a saint whose feast we will celebrate at the end of January. Happily, for me, I rediscovered St. John Bosco! He is the patron saint of magicians, but more importantly he is known as the patron of school children.
John Bosco was two when his father died. He had limited opportunities for education. Eventually he did receive and education and made it a priority to educate others who had challenging backgrounds. My rediscovery of John Bosco reminded me of his role in founding a religious community dedicated to educating young people. In 1859, Bosco formed the “Society of St. Francis de Sales.” This was the beginning of the Salesians, the religious order that to this day continues his work.
John Bosco and the Salesians developed a pedagogy for educating children known as the Preventative System. The basis for the system is three-fold: Reason, Religion and Loving-Kindness. The practice of this system is based on the words of St. Paul, who says: Love is patient, love is kind it bears all things … hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Cor. 13:4.7) This was paradigm-shifting as the norm at the time included intensive corporal punishment, little reasoning and no notion of love or kindness. We stand on the shoulders of giants.
I look around the Church today and see so many areas where we need a paradigm shift. For one, we need serious catechesis on the Role of the Assembly but that’s a topic for another time. Apathy is a comfortable response. We can become overwhelmed in our thinking that the jerks are winning and simply give up. The thing is, they are not. There are so many people who work tirelessly to educate, form and empower the faithful. They are from all vocations, backgrounds and cultures. We have all heard that if we are not part of the solution, we are part of the problem. The giants in our lives remind us that being part of the solution is not always easy, but it is worthwhile.
As our focus turns to Catholic Schools Week, may we celebrate the saints that went before who established Catholic schools and for those who carry on the legacy of Catholic education today. Catholic schools make a difference. Ask an administrator, faculty member, staff, parent, grandparent, student, or clergy why they support Catholic education. It’s because they recognize that we stand on the shoulders of giants. They recognize the importance of the mission. They gladly make great sacrifices to pass on the light of faith, the gift of knowledge, and an opportunity to plant seeds for generations to come.
Thanks to all the unnamed people in our schools and parishes who are the St. John Bosco’s of our time. He saw a system of education that used fear and punishment to motivate young learners. He saw a way to captivate their hearts and minds and create a positive learning environment. Every bit of formational ministry is important. Thank you all for making a difference in every day in big and little ways. You have the shoulders of giants.

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

Lessons from a president’s funeral

Posted on by
Reply

Father Aaron Williams

SPIRIT AND TRUTH
By Father Aaron Williams
Last month, the nation paid witness to the state funeral of President George H.W. Bush. It was a solemn occasion, especially the funeral service itself, held in the Episcopalian National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. But, watching this funeral service, I was reminded of a funeral of another president that happened a several years before I was born — yet one I have been able to watch online (more than once).
When President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in 1963, an event occurred in this nation that has never occurred before nor occurred since: the state funeral of a Catholic president. But, that funeral Mass in comparison to many of the more recent funerals of non-Catholic presidents, is actually pretty disappointing. It was a Pontifical Low Mass. We don’t really have those distinctions anymore, but before the liturgical reform after the Second Vatican Council there was a classification of different types of Masses which most people just called “Low” or “High” Mass.
In a high Mass, everything is sung. Sometimes you even have a solemn high Mass when the priest is assisted by a full gambit of ministers — a deacon and a subdeacon. But, in a low Mass nothing is sung — or at least, nothing of the texts of the Mass itself are sung. They are all spoken by the priest: the readings, the dialogues, the chants. All spoken. Exceptions were made in the early 1900s to allow vernacular hymns to be sung over the Mass itself while the priest spoke the actual texts of the Mass simultaneously.
And, this is the state funeral that was given to President John F. Kennedy. A low Mass, celebrated by a bishop (and therefore a ‘pontifical’ low Mass). One can go online and look up the video and hear Cardinal Cushing rattle off the Latin of the Mass in his Bostonian accent while various operatic voices sing settings of “Ave Maria” over and over again. The most comedic moment, in my opinion, is when the organ plays a light interlude during the procession as Cardinal Cushing walks down the aisle holding a piece of letter paper and mumbling the words of Psalm 51 to himself in pace so fast that it is entirely unintelligible.
The Second Vatican Council, in promoting the renewal and restoration of the Sacred Liturgy desired that elements of the liturgy be simplified, not so that the liturgy may become lackluster but so that the solemn liturgy would be more readily available to the faithful in the average parish. But, has this been the result?
Despite my harsh critique of President Kennedy’s funeral Mass, most Catholics alive today have never experienced anything more than a low Mass — or at least its equivalent. At best, they have experienced some elements of the solemn liturgy using sparingly on really important feast days. But the true solemn liturgy, the liturgy which was so earnestly promoted by the Second Vatican Council, has all but disappeared in the world today. Instead, most parishes always speak all the texts of the Mass, and then the choir tosses a few choice hymn over the Mass for good measure. Its really just a low Mass.
But, one remarkable thing that is being seen today is that, especially amongst young people, a trend is developing of a desire to restore the solemnity to the Sacred Liturgy. And, people are quick to try to make this into a political argument. They say that young people today are “romantic” over an “ideal” liturgical time that really didn’t exist. They want to “return” to something that they don’t really know about.
But, the reality that I have experienced in young people today is really quite different. Young people want a higher bar. They are not looking to turn back the clock. In fact, they are looking to go even further — and to see the vision of the Second Vatican Council fully realized. But that vision, when you actually look at the documents of Vatican II, is far different than what we have today or what we might imagine. It is certainly not a Pontifical Low Mass.
The solemn liturgy of the Church makes use of the greatest meeting of tradition and culture imaginable. Tradition, because the liturgy employs elements from ancient Christianity, yet hands them on to us polished and ready to be used again; and, culture, because the liturgy takes the best of modern talent and efforts and makes them fitting for sacred worship as well.
Over the next few articles, I would like to delve into the elements which the Second Vatican Council itself proposed as necessary to the solemn liturgy — why they are necessary, why we should seek to promote them, and how that can be done.

(Father Aaron Williams is the parochial vicar at Greenville St. Joseph Parish and serves as the liaison to seminarians for the Office of Vocations.)

Wendy Beckett – RIP

Posted on by
Reply

Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
No community should botch its deaths. The renowned anthropologist, Mircea Eliade, suggested this and its truth applies to communities at every level. No family should send off a member without proper reflection, ritual and blessings.
On December 26th, 2018, the family of art and the family of faith lost a cherished member. Sister Wendy Beckett, aged 88, famed art critic, committed woman of faith and nurturing friend to many, died. Since 1970, Sister Wendy had been living as a consecrated virgin and hermit on the grounds of a Carmelite convent in England, praying for several hours a day, translating religious tracts and going to daily Eucharist.
Early on, after choosing this way of life, she began to study art history, started writing articles for magazines and published the first of more than 30 books on art. In 1991, she did a short BBC documentary on television and was an immediate hit with a wide audience. She soon began to host her own BBC show, Sister Wendy’s Odyssey, which was so popular it sometimes attracted one quarter of the British television audience.
Anyone who watched her programs was soon taken by three things: The absolute joy that was present in her as she discussed a piece of art; her capacity to articulate in a simple and clear language the meaning of a particular work of art; and her earthy appreciation of sensuality and the nude human body which she, as a consecrated virgin, could describe with a disarming appreciation.
All of those qualities (her joy, her simplicity of language and her capacity to give the pure gaze of admiration to the nude human body) were what endeared her to her audience but also brought scorn from a number of critics. They mocked her simplicity of language, criticized her for not being more critical of the art she presented and were put off by that fact that she, a consecrated virgin, could so comfortably discuss sensuality and the nude human body. They found it difficult to digest that this pious woman, a consecrated virgin, clad in a traditional religious habit, sporting thick glasses and buck-teeth, could be so much at ease with sensuality. Robert Hughes, of Time magazine, once mocked her as a “relentlessly chatty pseudo-hermit with her signature teeth” whose observations were “pitched to a 15-year-old” audience. Germaine Greer challenged her competence to describe erotic art given the fact that she was a consecrated virgin.
Sister Wendy mostly smiled at these criticisms and countered them this way: “I’m not a critic,” she would say, “I am an appreciator.” As to her comfort with sensuality and the nude body, she would answer that just because she was committed to celibacy did not mean that she was not fully appreciative of human sensuality, sexuality and the beauty of the human body – all of it.
There are of course different ways in which the unclothed human body can be perceived and Sister Wendy was a smiling, unapologetic appreciator of one of them. An unclothed human body can be shown as “nude” or as “naked.” Good art uses nudity to honor the human body (surely one of God’s great masterpieces) while pornography uses nakedness to exploit the human body.
Sister Wendy was also unapologetic about the fact that her consecrated virginity did not disprivilege her from appreciating the erotic. She was right. Somewhere we have developed the false, debilitating notion that consecrated celibates must, like little children, be protected from the erotic so that even while they’re supposed to be doctors of the soul they should be shielded from the deep impulses and secrets of the soul. Sister Wendy didn’t buy that. Neither should we. Chastity is not intended to be that kind of naiveté.
Full disclosure: I had a personal link to Sister Wendy. Many years ago, when I was young and still searching for my own voice as a spiritual writer, she sent me a large, beautifully-framed, print of Paul Klee’s, famous 1923 painting, Eros. For the past 29 years it has hung on a wall behind my computer screen so that I see it every time I write and it has helped me understand that it’s God’s color, God’s light and God’s energy that inform erotic longing.
In 1993, while visiting the monastery where Sister Wendy lived, I had the opportunity to go out to a restaurant with her. Our waiter was initially taken aback by her traditional religious habit. With some trepidation he timidly asked her: “Sister, might I bring you some water?” She flashed her trademark smile and said: “No, water’s for washing. Bring me some wine!” The waiter relaxed and much enjoyed bantering with her for the rest of the meal.
And that was Sister Wendy, an anomaly to many: a consecrated virgin discoursing on eros, a hermit but famous art critic and an intellectually brilliant woman who befuddled critics with her simplicity. But, like all great minds, there was a remarkable consistency at a deeper level, at that place where the critic and the appreciator are one.

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser, theologian, teacher and award-winning author, is President of the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio, TX.)

Mary shows us the way

Posted on by
Reply

Melvin Arrington, Jr

GUEST COLUMN
By Melvin Arrington
We can learn much from what Mary says and does in the Gospels. Her act of faith and trust at the Annunciation, her beautiful Magnificat prayer, and her steadfast presence at the foot of the Cross are just some of the instances in which she demonstrates the meaning of holiness. Most importantly, in all things she points the way to her Son and compels us to turn our eyes toward Him, as when she instructs the servers at the wedding feast at Cana: “Do whatever He tells you” (John 2:5).
One of Mary’s traits that sometimes gets overlooked amidst her humility, charity, piety, devotion and other great virtues is her gentleness. I first discovered Mary’s gentle ways through the mild, non-abrasive manner of speech my wife would employ when telling me she needed help with household chores. It was a humbling and eye-opening experience when I finally became aware of the close parallels between her approach and Mary’s.
Many times in the past when my wife would say to me something like, “The dishwasher is full of clean dishes,” I would offer some inane response such as, “Oh, okay.” My interpretation was, “If you’re looking for your favorite iced tea glass and it’s not in the cabinet, it’s probably clean in the dishwasher.”
This pattern would show up in all kinds of situations. For example, she might say, “The grass is looking pretty tall in the front yard,” which meant: “Please mow the lawn before the grass gets any taller.” Or she might tell me, “The trash can is overflowing,” meaning that I should get up and take out the trash. Other times she would say, “I think the flag is down on the mailbox,” when she wanted me to go outside and bring in the mail. One final example is particularly embarrassing, now that I look back on it: “The basket in the laundry room is full of your clean clothes.” There’s really no excuse for not understanding that one.
Years went by before I learned how to translate what she was saying. I would hear her words without really listening for the subtext. What sounded like a mere statement of fact was actually a softened way of trying to get me to help out.
Somewhere deep inside it must have registered that she wanted me to empty the dishwasher, mow the lawn, takes out the trash, bring in the mail or put away my clean clothes because usually an hour or so later, I would get up and perform the task. For instance, I would go to the kitchen and, after searching in vain for a particular glass, remember to look in the dishwasher and, in the process, empty it, and put up all the clean dishes. Why couldn’t I have acted on this sooner?
One day, while reading the account of Jesus turning the water into wine at Cana (John 2:1-12), the true meaning of my wife’s soft and tender method of pointing out chores that needed to be done was suddenly revealed to me with great clarity. I had read this passage many times before and thought I had a solid understanding of it but, as the saying goes, each time you read Scripture you find meanings you didn’t see there before. Well, that was truly the case with me.
Verse 3 says, “When the wine ran short, the mother of Jesus said to Him, ‘They have no wine.’” Mary was aware of the wine shortage even before the headwaiter learned of it. When she told Jesus about it He immediately understood that she wanted Him to do something to save her friends and relatives from embarrassment. After informing her of the consequences of performing a miracle, He proceeded to do it. Needless to say, my response time to requests is somewhat slower.
Is taking an indirect approach and using non-confrontational language a form of “woman speak,” as opposed to more direct “man speak”? Most men probably respond best when given direct commands, albeit softened ones, such as “Please do this for me,” or “Could you do that for me?” Some of us are not very good at reading between the lines.
When she talked about dishes, laundry, and all those other chores, my wife was simply incorporating Mary’s indirect method and using “Mary speak.” In essence, she was acting like Mary, while I was just, well, being me. As a result, the real miracle occurred whenever I would actually get up and do something useful. A person listening with a servant’s heart would have understood instantly what she was asking.
Mary’s manner of speech in verse 3 is noteworthy because it tells us a lot about her gentleness. She can teach us a kinder, gentler lifestyle, and she can show us the way to happiness. Jesus is the Way, and Mary will point us to Him, if we only let her.

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

Research key in improving abuse response

Posted on by
Reply

Reba McMellon

Part of the Solution
By Reba J. McMellon, M.S.,LPC

(Editor’s note: This is the first installment in an ongoing series to address the questions parishioners and clergy have regarding response to and healing from sexual abuse in the church. To submit a question, email editor@mississippicatholic.com. Names will be kept in confidence.)

 

Research key in improving abuse response
Addressing child sexual abuse in the Catholic Church raises many questions and concerns. Answering questions and concerns directly and clearly is the hallmark of preventing these crimes from happening again.
Some have asked why Catholic bishops should trust the advice of psychologists when psychologists have mislead them in the past. I think this concern dates back to a time when we, in the field of professional psychology, were going on the assumption that pedophilia was a mental illness, one that could be treated. Those guilty of child sexual abuse were sent to treatment programs and in some cases, put back into service.
While research began in the late 1970’s on pedophile subtypes and treatment outcomes, it wasn’t until the mid to late 1980’s that the widespread rule of thumb was to have the criminal justice system deal with those who commit crimes against children. The research consistently shows the rate of recidivism is very high and the risk is great.
One of the largest studies done on child sexual abuse was done by John Jay College of Criminal Justice in May of 2011. The 130-page comprehensive report includes populations such as youth service organizations, religious institutions, seminary formation teams and more. The study was requested and paid for by the Catholic Church. It is accessible here: https://bit.ly/1Tp2UdH and through the Diocese of Jackson’s website in the section on Child Protection. This study and many others show that mental health treatment alone is not effective and the offenders of sexual crimes against children should be dealt with through the criminal justice system.
Another issue that is important is the crime of aiding and abetting physical, sexual and emotional abuse of a child. In some states, it is referred to as contributing to the harm of a minor. This includes those who know of the offense and knowingly ignore it, choosing to protect the criminal rather than protect the child. It cannot be overstated that this too is a crime, punishable by law.
In summary, psychology is a relatively new science, and like all other sciences, improves with ongoing research. Rest assured, criminal justice professionals and psychologists have worked together resulting in sound knowledge on the subject of sexual abuse of children.
The effect of sexual abuse on the victim can be not knowing the difference between love and abuse. Sexual abuse halts the development of the victim. It interferes with trust, spiritual development and shatters the psyche. While it can be mended, the victim will forever be effected. Abuse causes the innocence of the childhood to falter and sometimes disappear altogether. It shatters the soul, mind and body. The effects can be healed but the scars remain throughput the survivor’s life.

(Reba 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 sexual abuse for more than 25 years. While living in the Atlanta area, Reba was a member of the first child sexual abuse treatment team in the state of Georgia. She later became director of the team which included mental health, social services, juvenile court, district attorneys and detectives in the sexual victims unit of Cobb County, Georgia. Reba went into private practice in 1987 and continued to serve as an expert witness in child sexual abuse cases. She moved back to Mississippi in 2001 and works part-time as a mental health consultant and freelance writer.)

My top ten books in spirituality for 2018

Posted on by
Reply

Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
This year I will restrict myself to focusing only on books that deal explicitly with spirituality, notwithstanding some very fine novels and books on social commentary that I read this year.
But first, an apologia: Taste is idiosyncratic. Keep that in mind as you read these recommendations. These are books that I liked, that spoke to me, and that I believe can be helpful for someone seeking guidance and inspiration on the journey. They may not speak to you in the same way.
Which spiritual books did I find most helpful this year?
• Veronica Mary Rolf, Julian’s Gospel, Illuminating the Life and Revelations of Julian of Norwich. Julian of Norwich is one of the great Christian mystics, but her thought is not easily accessible to most readers. This book gives a good introduction to her life and her writings and highlights as well how much of a spiritual oasis she was in a time when most parts of Christianity conceived of God in very harsh terms.
• John Shea, To Dare The Our Father, A Transformative Spiritual Practice. Shea takes up each article within the Lord’s Prayer to challenge us regarding various aspects of our lives, not least vis-à-vis our struggle to come to reconciliation with others. The section on Jesus’ own struggle in Gethsemane is especially insightful.
• Gerhard Lohfink, Is This All There Is? A world-class scripture scholar takes up the question of the afterlife as spoken of in scripture. This is first-rate scholarship rendered accessible to everyone. Lohfink is a gifted scholar and gifted teacher. This is a graduate course on the afterlife made available to everyone regardless of academic background.
• Benoit Standaert, Spirituality An Art of Living. Standaert is a Dutch Benedictine monk and this book (easy to read because it is broken up into short meditations) is gem of wisdom and challenge. Those of you with Protestant and Evangelical backgrounds schooled on Oswald Chambers’ classic will know what I mean when I say this book is a “My Utmost” for all Christians.
• Thomas Moore, Ageless Soul, The Lifelong Journey Toward Meaning and Joy. Moore is always brilliant and this book is no exception. He’s one of our generation’s best defenders of soul. But this book comes with a bit of a warning label: Some people may find it a bit too much of a stretch in terms of lacking religious boundaries. Be that as it may, it’s a brilliant book.
• Elizabeth Johnson, Creation and the Cross, The Mercy of God for a Planet in Peril. One of the foremost Catholic theologians of our generation pushes her thought (and ours) a little further apposite the issue of how the incarnation of God, in Christ, is a “deep incarnation” that affects physical creation as well as humanity. Christ came not only to save the people on this earth, but also to save the earth itself. Christ also takes in nature. Johnson helps explain how that might be better understood. The book contains an expert theological synthesis on Christian views of why Christ came to earth.
• Jordan Peterson, 12 Rules for Life, An Antidote to Chaos. This is one of the most argued about books of this past year. It’s brilliant, a good read, even if you don’t agree with everything or even most of what Peterson says. Some conservatives have used the book very selectively to suit their own causes; just as some liberals have unfairly rejected the book because of some of its attacks on liberal excesses. Both these readings, to my mind, are unfair. Peterson’s overall depth and nuance doesn’t allow for the way it has been misused on the right and criticized on the left. In the end, Peterson lands where Jesus did, with the Sermon on the Mount. Its title is somewhat unfortunate in that it can give the impression that this is just another popular self-help book. It’s anything but that.
• Makoto Fujimura, Silence and Beauty. This is a beautiful book, written by an artist highly attuned to aesthetics. It’s a book about art, faith, and religion. Fujimura is a deeply committed Christian and an artist. For most people this would constitute a tension, but Fujimura not only shows how he holds faith and art together, he also makes a sophisticated apologia for religion.
• Pablo d’Ors, Biography of Silence. Ors is a Spanish author of both novels and spiritual essays. This book (small, short, and an easy read) can be a good shot in the arm for anyone who, however unconsciously, feels that prayer isn’t worth the time and the effort. Writing out of a long habit of silent meditation, Ors shows us what kind of gifts prayer can bring into our lives.
• Trevor Herriot, Towards a Prairie Atonement. Herriot is a Canadian writer and in this, his latest book, he submits that just as when we wound others reconciliation demands some kind of atonement, so too with our relationship with earth. We need to make some positive atonement to nature for our historical abuses.

Happy reading!

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser, theologian, teacher and award-winning author, is President of the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio, TX.)

Outside the city

Posted on by
Reply

Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
God, it seems, favors the powerless, the unnoticed, children, babies, outsiders and refugees with no resources or place to go.
That’s why Jesus was born outside the city, in a stable, unnoticed, outside all fanfare, away from all major media and away from all the persons and events that were deemed important at the time, humble and anonymous. God works like that. Why?
In the rock opera, Jesus Christ Superstar, that question is asked of Jesus: Why’d you choose such a backward time in such a strange land? If you’d come today you could have reached a whole nation. Israel in 4 BC had no mass communication.
Scripture answers by telling us that God’s ways are not our ways and our ways are not God’s ways. That’s true here. We tend to understand power by how it works in our world. There it works through popularity, through mass media, through historical privilege, through financial clout, through higher education, through idiosyncratic genius, and, not infrequently, through raw aggression, greed and insensitivity to the needs of others and of nature.
But even a quick reading of scripture tells us that’s not how God works. The God that Jesus incarnates doesn’t enter into this world with a huge splash, as a royal birth eagerly anticipated and then announced by all the major media outlets, with photos of him and his parents on the cover of every popular magazine, with universal predictions as to his future greatness and influence, and then with privileged access to the best educational institutions and circles of power and influence.
Clearly, clearly, that’s not the story of Jesus’ birth, nor of how his life unfolded. God, as scripture shows, works more through anonymity than through the headlines, more through the poor than the powerful, and more through those outside the circles of power than those inside them. When we examine how God works, we see it’s no accident that Jesus was born outside the city and that after he was crucified he was also buried outside the city.
God’s work in our world generally does not make the headlines. God never breaks into our world or into our consciousness by showy displays of power. God works more discretely, in quiet, touching soul, touching conscience and touching that previously touched part inside of us where we still unconsciously bear the memory of once, long before birth, being touched, caressed,and loved by God. That’s why Christ was born into this world as a baby and not as superstar, as someone whose only power was the capacity to touch and soften the hearts of those around him. Babies overpower no one, physically, intellectually, or athletically. They lie helpless and cry for love and care. That’s why, paradoxically, at the end of the day, they’re more powerful than anyone else. No physical, intellectual or athletic power can ultimately touch the human conscience as can a baby – and similar sights of innocent helplessness, a wounded bird, an abandoned kitten, a young child alone and crying. What’s best in us enflames, healthily, in the presence of powerlessness and innocence.
That’s how God enters into us, gently, unnoticed. No big splash. That’s also why God tends to bypass circles of power to favor the abandoned and vulnerable. For example, when the Gospel of Luke records how John the Baptist came to be specially blessed, it takes a scathing swipe at both the civic and religious powers of its time. It names all the major civil and religious leaders of the time (the Roman rulers, the kings in Palestine, and the religious high priests) and then tells us plainly that the word of God bypassed them all and came instead to John, a solitary, living in the wilderness. (Luke 3, 1-3) According to the Gospels, the wilderness is where we’re most likely to find and experience God’s presence because God tends to bypasses the centers of power and influence to find a place instead in the hearts of those outside those circles.
You see this too, though admittedly without the same theological weight as is manifest in scripture, in the various apparitions of Mary, Jesus’ mother, that have been approved by the church. What’s common to all of them? Mary has never appeared to a president, a pope, a major religious leader, a Wall Street banker, the CEO of a major company or even to an academic theologian in his study. None of these. She’s appeared to children, to a young woman of no earthly importance, to an illiterate peasant and to various other persons of no worldly status.
We tend to understand power as residing in financial influence, political clout, charismatic talent, media influence, physical strength, athletic prowess, grace, health, wit, and attractiveness.
On the surface, that assessment is accurate enough, and indeed none of these are bad in themselves. But, looked at more deeply, as we see in the birth of Christ, God’s word bypasses the centers of power and gestates instead in the hearts and consciences of those outside the city.

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser, theologian, teacher and award-winning author, is President of the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio, TX.)

In the silence of selflessness

Posted on by

Sister alies therese

From the Hermitage
By Sister terese alise
There is a certain amount of hopelessness in our world and each of us has to learn to navigate through. It is never God’s plan for us to suffer so God has promised to be with us when we do. The Christmas story, all the way through to the Baptism, shows us some of these ways.
These seasons are filled with all the virtues we have come to recognize…charity, hope, faith and peace among the most outstanding. We might experience them in silence. Yet at root is selflessness.
If we explore hopelessness carefully, we might discover self-seeking or someone else to blame. I feel hopeless when politics grind on or families feud. Hopelessness is noisy, full of conversation and full of excuses. Hopelessness winds its way through dark and wild spots. We feel betrayed. It reminds us that we are useless and that things cannot indeed be fixed or even improved upon. It is a place of frustration where the focus is on me and my desire rather than the other and what they might need. Hopelessness is self-seeking.
If we enter, however into silence, even if only of the heart, we might discover that the expansive life we can live is all-inclusive. Even those things that bug us, those things that cause us to wallow in our sin or self-deprecation, even these things can be swept up into a world that is open and welcoming. Is one always cheery? Probably not. Do things hurt us or leave us scratching our heads? Probably. But cast within the winds of this place, our hearts are turned another way. Look, for example, at our wonderful story. Neither Mary nor Elizabeth were hopeless at the news of the birth of sons. They were concerned first about each other. Even Joseph and Zechariah’s hearts, in their surprise, were turned toward the women they loved and the sons to be born. The tiny Infant Jesus will gloriously wink at His parents and they will receive the gift of His presence. There is no self-seeking among any of them…only the tenderness of loving.
Silence is an attitude and practice of the heart and not always an external atmosphere. I have been in many, many very noisy situations and yet my heart was still and who would know? Equally, I have been in many quiet retreats and my insides were not at all peaceful. The former was something about selflessness, the latter about self-seeking. Our journey through Advent hopefully helped us with those virtues and the movement away from self-seeking. Even in the color scheme of purples and rose, of darkness and light, or the quickening fire of love, we are caught up. We want to be busy about decorations and presents and visiting…and yet there is something in this season that invites us deeper. Silence holds us so that we can learn to receive midst all our desire to give.
In these next few days before we celebrate the Nativity of our Sweet Redeemer, let’s explore. First let’s ask, am I willing to search no matter where or when to find this Jesus that I might learn to receive from Him; and secondly, like the Kings who will come from far away to behold the tiny One in awe, am I willing to be caught up in a selflessness that allows God to give to me? Do I know the peace of receiving Him? Am I willing to enter into the silence that “breaks the hold on time and accept that our true home is not here on earth, but in eternity”? (Sr. Wendy,1999).
By choice God expresses fullness and devotion, respect and reverence, humility and peace wanting us to receive, that we might become an ever deeper part of this amazing incarnation, enfleshment, and Kindom bearer with all our kinfolks who are willing to stand up against hopelessness and embrace selflessness. This is where peace is born. This is where we are drawn in silence into the very heart of our God.
“The path to peace is not to seek it, but to seek selflessness. Self-seeking of any kind narrows our potential and destroys the balance on which peace depends. Too often we misunderstand the nature of it. We should not try to control our lives. If we are set upon doing so, we have abdicated from peace.” (Sr. Wendy, 1999).
Be filled with the silence of selflessness and receive the One who loves you dearly. 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 columnist. She lives and writes in Mississippi.)

My wonderful 88-years-9-month-old motor

Posted on by
Reply

Father Jerome LeDoux, SVD,

Reflections on Life
By Father Jerome LeDoux, SVD
Imagine any engine running nonstop day and night for 88 years. Human ingenuity has not figured out a way to make an engine capable of running nonstop and efficiently more than a small fraction of that. Our marvelous heart never rests, unless we count the slight hesitation between the systole-diastole of its beats. The size of one’s fist, our heart is the muscle from which all other muscles can learn.
Yes, our heart does splendid work for many decades, unless it is disabled by some congenital defect, partially incapacitated by an accident or disease, or at length worn down by the inexorable advance of old age. In my case, my great cardiac motor has been slowed by nearly 89 years of constant use and calcium buildup on the aorta valve cusps that causes aortic stenosis, a narrowing that keeps the valve from fully opening or closing. This condition reduces blood flow to the body and makes the heart work harder. Since overwork weakens the heart, my cardiologist, Dr. David Homan, asked, “Do you have chest pain, fatigue or shortness of breath?”
When I responded in the negative, he broached the subject of aortic valve replacement. “Your lack of symptoms indicates that you may not need an aortic valve replacement now, but a small procedure (stent) can forestall your need for a replacement in the near future. I recommend that you have such a procedure now.”
Dr. Homan scheduled me for a right heart catheter to explore for blockage. If there was blockage, he would install a stent. He would also do a venogram to determine whether there was a blockage in my leg veins, since there is leg swelling. If there was blockage, he would install a stent there also.
Ordered to abstain from all food and drink after Thursday midnight, to shower before my CIS procedure Friday morning, and to be prepared to stay in the hospital either eight hours if no stents have been installed, or overnight if stents have been installed, I was left to get myself together for the occasion.
I arrived at the main desk Friday morning and within minutes, I was donning a repulsive hospital gown. A congenial nurse came in to do vampire work. She tried my left arm, but failed to draw blood. After five minutes, she switched to my right arm. I have fairly sizable veins, but they kept rolling and dodging. So the rattled nurse switched back to my left arm after some minutes. Third verse, same as the first. Predictably, she switched back to my right arm and finally drew some precious blood. She breathed a sigh of relief. So did I.
Unaccustomed to taking any chemicals at all, “the medicine to help you relax” knocked me out cold. I never even knew that Dr. Homan had come and gone.
I thought that I would have surgery done on my aortic valve at 10:45 Tuesday morning, November 13. But, to my surprise, when I called Dr. Victor Tedesco’s office in Lafayette the morning before to learn whether I had to fast, etc. in preparation for surgery, I heard the surprising words from the lips of the receptionist, “You don’t have to do anything. This will be only a consultation with Dr. Tedesco to discuss X-ray artery photos and schedule a date for surgery.”
Ushered into a large office room on November 13, I began to fire Italian at him Dr. Tedesco. I guessed correctly. Of Italian descent, although Tedesco is the Italian word for German, we threw some rudimentary Italian back and forth at each other.
Getting down to business, he said that he had studied the artery X-ray photos.
In the left side of the heart, the left anterior descending artery (LAD), aka the widow maker, supplies with blood the entire front wall of the heart and much of the side wall. A medium or total blockage of the beginning of the LAD can be a widow maker. The main artery supplies blood to the LAD and the left circumflex. A major blockage there is the mother of all widow makers, warranting timely double bypass surgery.
Weighing my two blockages, Dr. Tedesco and I scheduled surgery for December 12.
“God is love, and all who abide in love abide in God and God in them.” (1 John 4:16))

(Father Jerome LeDoux, SVD, has written “Reflections on Life since 1969. We will update his condition as soon as we receive word.)

When is our life fulfilled?

Posted on by
Reply

Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
When is our life fulfilled? At what point in our lives do we say: “That’s it! That’s the climax! Nothing I can do from now on will outdo this. I’ve given what I have to give.”
When can we say this? After we’ve reached the peak of our physical health and strength? After giving birth to a child? After successfully raising our children? After we’ve published a best-seller? After we’re famous? After we’ve won a major championship? After we’re celebrated the 60th anniversary of our marriage? After we’ve found a soulmate? After we’re at peace after a long struggle with grief? When is it finally done? When has our growth reached its furthest place?
The medieval mystic, John of the Cross, says we reach this point in our lives when we have grown to what he calls “our deepest center.” But he doesn’t conceive of this the way we commonly picture it, namely, as the deepest center inside our soul. Rather, for John, our deepest center is the optimum point of our human growth, that is, the deepest maturity we can grow to before we begin to die. If this is true, then for a flower, its deepest center, its ultimate point of growth, would be not its bloom but the giving of its seed as it dies. That’s its further point of growth, its ultimate accomplishment.
What’s our ultimate point of growth? I suspect that we tend to think of this in terms of some concrete, positive accomplishment, like a successful career or some athletic, intellectual, or artistic achievement that’s brought us satisfaction, recognition, and popularity. Or, looked at from the point of view of depth of meaning, we might answer the question differently by saying that our ultimate achievement was a life-giving marriage, or being a good parent, or living a life that served others.
When, like a flower, do we give off our seed? Henri Nouwen suggests that people will answer this very differently: “For some it is when they are enjoying the full light of popularity; for others, when they have been totally forgotten; for some, when they have reached the peak of their strength; for others, when they feel powerless and weak; for some it is when their creativity is in full bloom, for others, when they have lost all confidence in their potential.”
When did Jesus give off his seed, the fullness of his spirit? For Jesus, it wasn’t immediately after his miracles when the crowds stood in awe, and it wasn’t after he had just walked on water, and it wasn’t when his popularity reached the point where his contemporaries wanted to make him king that he felt he had accomplished his purpose in life and that people began to be touched in their souls by his spirit. None of these. When did Jesus have nothing further to achieve?
It’s worth quoting Henri Nouwen again, in answering this question: “We know one thing, however, for the Son of Man the wheel stopped when he had lost everything: his power to speak and to heal, his sense of success and influence, his disciples and friends – even his God. When he was nailed against a tree, robbed of all human dignity, he knew that he had aged enough, and said: ‘It is fulfilled’ (John 19, 30).”
“It is fulfilled!” The Greek word here is Tetelesti. This was an expression used by artists to signify that a work was completely finished and that nothing more could be added to it. It was also used to express that something was complete. For example, Tetelesti was stamped on a document of charges against a criminal after he had served his full prison sentence; it was used by banks when a debt had been repaid; it was used by a servant to inform his master that a work had been completed; and it was used by athletes when, tired and exhausted, they successfully crossed the finish line in a race.
It is finished! A flower dies to give off its seed so it’s appropriate that these were Jesus’ last words. On the cross, faithful to the end, to his God, to his word, to the love he preached, and to his own integrity, he stopped living and began dying, and that’s when he gave off his seed and that’s when his spirit began to permeate the world. He had reached his deepest center, his life was fulfilled.
When does our living stop and our dying begin? When do we move from being in bloom to giving off our seed? Superficially, of course, it’s when our health, strength, popularity, and attractiveness begin to wane and we start to fade out, into the margins, and eventually into the sunset. But when this is seen in the light of Jesus’ life, we see that in our fading out, like a flower long past its bloom, we begin to give off something of more value than the attractiveness of the bloom. That’s when we can say: “It is fulfilled!”

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser, theologian, teacher and award-winning author, is President of the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio, TX.)