IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
We live in a culture that idealizes youth and marginalizes the old. And, as James Hillman says, the old don’t let go easily either of the throne or the drive that took them there. I know; I’m aging.

For most of my life, I’ve been able to think of myself as young. Because I was born late in the year, October, I was always younger than most of my classmates, graduated from high school at age seventeen, entered the seminary at that tender age, was ordained to the priesthood at age twenty-five, did an advanced degree within the next year and was teaching graduate theology at age twenty-six, the youngest member on the faculty. I was proud of that, achieving those things so early. And so I always thought of myself as young, even as the years piled up and my body began to betray my conception of myself as young.

Moreover, for most of those years, I tried to stay young too in soul, staying on top of what was shaping youth culture, its movies, its popular songs, its lingo. During my years in seminary and for a good number of years after ordination, I was involved in youth ministry, helping give youth retreats in various high schools and colleges. At that time, I could name all the popular songs, movies, and trends, speak youth’s language and I prided myself in being young.

But nature offers no exemptions. Nobody stays young forever. Moreover, aging doesn’t normally announce its arrival. You’re mostly blind to it until one day you see yourself in a mirror, see a recent photo of yourself or get a diagnosis from your doctor and suddenly you’re hit on the head with the unwelcome realization that you’re no longer a young person. That usually comes as a surprise. Aging generally makes itself known in ways that have you denying it, fighting it, accepting it only piecemeal and with some bitterness.

But that day comes round for everyone when you’re surprised, stunned, that what you are seeing in the mirror is so different from how you have been imagining yourself and you ask yourself: “Is this really me? Am I this old person? Is this what I look like?” Moreover you begin to notice that young people are forming their circles away from you, that they’re more interested in their own kind, which doesn’t include you and you look silly and out of place when you try to dress, act and speak like they do. There comes a day when you have accept that you’re no longer young in in the world’s eyes – nor in your own.

Moreover gravity doesn’t just affect your body, pulling things downward, so too for the soul. It’s pulled downward along with the body, though aging means something very different here. The soul doesn’t age, it matures. You can stay young in soul long after the body betrays you. Indeed we’re meant to be always young in spirit.

Souls carry life differently than do bodies because bodies are built to eventually die. Inside of every living body the life-principle has an exit strategy. It has no such strategy inside a soul, only a strategy to deepen, grow richer and more textured. Aging forces us, mostly against our will, to listen to our soul more deeply and more honestly so as to draw from its deeper wells and begin to make peace with its complexity, its shadow and its deepest proclivities – and the aging of the body plays the key role in this. To employ a metaphor from James Hillman: The best wines have to be aged in cracked old barrels. So too for the soul: The aging process is designed by God and nature to force the soul, whether it wants to or not, to delve ever deeper into the mystery of life, of community, of God and of itself. Our souls don’t age, like a wine, they mature and so we can always be young in spirit. Our zest, our fire, our eagerness, our wit, our brightness and our humor are not meant to dim with age. Indeed, they’re meant to be the very color of a mature soul.

So, in the end, aging is a gift, even if unwanted. Aging takes us to a deeper place, whether we want to go or not.

Like most everyone else, I still haven’t made my full peace with this and would still like to think of myself as young. However I was particularly happy to celebrate my 70th birthday two years ago, not because I was happy to be that age, but because, after two serious bouts with cancer in recent years, I was very happy just to be alive and wise enough now to be a little grateful for what aging and a cancer diagnosis has taught me.

There are certain secrets hidden from health, writes John Updike. True. And aging uncovers a lot of them because, as Swedish proverb puts it, “afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.”

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

GUEST COLUMN
By Sister Constance Veit, LSP
During a recent Catholic conference, I saw a Scripture quote on a poster that read: “Always be prepared to make a defense to anyone who calls you to account for the hope that is in you, yet do it with gentleness and reverence…” (1 Peter 3:15-16).

A series of talks by Catholic theologians and public figures drove home for me just how applicable these words are today.

From the recent scandals in the Church to the continued legal threats to religious liberty, traditional marriage and family and the dignity of human life, the times in which we are living seem catastrophic for Christians. Is there any hope for the future of the church in western societies like ours? What are we ordinary Catholics to do?

As I pondered these questions, the words of St. Peter provided me with two take-aways. First, we should not be afraid to speak up for Christ and the Gospel in the public square. And second, we will be able to make a difference only if we do so with kindness and humility.

St. Peter advised the early Christians to always be prepared, which presupposes we have done our homework. A Dominican speaker at the conference emphasized the need for serious study because standing up for our Catholic faith today requires intelligent answers. But he added that effective evangelization is not purely a matter of intellectual effort; it involves both knowing and authentically living our faith. Actions speak louder than words – and when we do speak, our personal witness of grace can touch hearts more effectively than theological treatises.

I think this is what St. Peter meant when he spoke about “the hope that is in you.” This hope is not something remote or academic – it is the living presence of Christ in our hearts.

We all share in the pledge of an imperishable inheritance by virtue of our Baptism, but this living hope is not bestowed on the church as a corporate body. It is a promise given to each of us individually as a beloved son or daughter of God. “Christ in you – and in me – for each of us, our hope of glory!” (cf. Colossians 1:27).

If we are tempted to become discouraged in the face of so many threats to our Catholic faith, perhaps it is because we have not yet taken full ownership of the hope that is in us.

Saint Jeanne Jugan, foundress of the Little Sisters of the Poor, took hold of this living hope and exercised it as confidence in Providence and sure faith in what awaited her in heaven (1 Peter 1:3-4).
Jeanne Jugan often reminded the young Little Sisters about the presence of Christ in the tabernacle, in the poor and in their own hearts. She advised them to look to Jesus for strength in all their trials and difficulties. Faced with challenges she would say, “That seems impossible, but if God is with us it will be accomplished.”

As strong as her faith and hope were, Jeanne Jugan was fully aware of the limited power of words to win over hearts and souls. She counseled the Little Sisters not to prolong chapel devotions, lest the Residents become bored and walk away.

She also advised the Sisters not to rush their begging rounds, impetuously blurting out their needs as if they were their due.

Finally, she taught the Little Sisters to pray discreetly when out in public so that they would neither draw undue attention to themselves nor offend nonbelievers.

In a word, Saint Jeanne Jugan taught the Little Sisters to let their humble acts of charity do the talking in drawing others to Christ. The annals of our Congregation are filled with stories of elderly individuals who were converted or led back to the practice of their Catholic faith through the quiet but heroic charity of generations of Little Sisters.

Many of the speakers at the conference I attended talked about missionary discipleship. Even the most well-known and intellectually intense spoke about service and solidarity with the poor as essential means of evangelization in today’s polarized world.

“Nothing is more exhilarating than bringing others to Christ,” George Weigel exclaimed with an enthusiasm that made me want to go out and announce the Good News – knowing that the only convincing way to do this today is through the language of closeness, generous love and humble service.

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

From the hermitage
By Sister alies therese
People “go to Mass” for a variety of reasons. Some go because they are compelled by some notion of obligation or see the community value in it. Others are afraid of committing a mortal sin by not attending. Some understand and respect the transubstantiation process. And others, indeed, who like the preaching or music.
Perhaps you have a few additional thoughts on what you consider “go to Mass” means, or as it has been said “hear Mass.” We know about the Lord’s Supper or Holy Communion. Excellent preaching is rarely found and music can vary from one place to another, full-blown Cathedral choirs to small mission church pianists, all trying their best to assist us in our worship.
In my almost 50 years, I have been many places in one form of ministry or another and there’s not much I haven’t seen or heard. I suppose we have our favorite niggle … one of mine is singing all the verses (most of the time).
Music and art are very important to the reverential and special way that liturgy might be celebrated. In particular, music knits the Mass parts together, gives a flow to the delicacy of the Eucharist and gives us, the worshippers, the opportunity to sing out our praise to God and to be reminded of an important part of the story.
If you consider some of the hymns you might favor you might leave out verses three and four, for example. This seriously diminishes the fullness of the text that the author was so inspired to write.
Here are two examples …
The highlights of the verses of “Softly & Tenderly,” published by Will Thompson in 1880, are rooted in Matthew 11:28. For me the whole point of the hymn is in verse four, “Oh, for the wonderful love.”
(1) Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling/ … see on the portals He’s waiting and watching
(2) Why should we tarry when Jesus is pleading/ …Why should we linger and heed not His mercies?
(3) Time is now fleeting, the moments are passing/ … shadows are gathering, deathbeds are coming …
(4) Oh, for the wonderful love He has promised/ …Though we have sinned, He has mercy and pardon …
Another example is “Alleluia! Alleluia! Let the Holy Anthem Rise,” by Edward Caswall (1841-1878).
(1) Alleluia! Alleluia! Let the holy anthem rise …
(2) … Like the sun from out the wave …
(3) … Christ has burst our prison bars …
(4) … Blessed Jesus, make us rise …
As in any well-written piece, the author of the text wants us to travel somewhere with our musical storytelling so that the lessons we need to learn about the truths of faith might be presented in a robust and satisfying way. In this case, the author wants us to go from our attempt at understanding that Jesus was raised from the dead, how powerful that was and what it might look like, in order to get us to the final verse where we now ask … “make us rise.” From what God has done to what we need. From what God has done to what God now promises us. When we cut off the latter two verses, we almost miss the point Caswall was making.
You might think this is a bit petty. I’ve heard others complain it makes the “Mass too long” to sing all the verses. OK. But it is really only once a week (minimum). For me, if we are going to include music in the liturgical celebrations then we need to have great respect for both text and music.
There is a lot of energy used in singing and there are so many hymns and parts to choose from. We have seen over the years the changes in style, some coming back, some fading out. What we might need to be reminded of is that in the very act of singing, or with other forms of musical accompaniment, are at least two things: 1) that the community is inspired to cooperate with the Spirit to praise God and 2) that our worship of God is serious enough to be careful about our art and music so that as we leave our celebration, we are indeed prepared to welcome the stranger, the neighbor, the other because the message of a hymn sings sweetly in our hearts.
It is not necessary to sing every verse all the time, as it is not necessary to sing all the Mass parts (especially if the presider feels a bit challenged). However, when the liturgy team chooses for us what best expresses the liturgy and prayer of the day, we might consider more carefully how we participate with abandon and joy so that our God might be joyously worshipped and praised.

(Sister alies therese is a vowed Catholic solitary who lives an eremitical life. Her days are formed around prayer, art and writing. She lives and writes in Mississippi.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
There’s a huge difference between being bright and being wise, between brilliance and wisdom. We can be highly intelligent, but not very wise. Ideally, of course, we should strive to be both, but that isn’t always the case, particularly today.

We’re living in a culture that rewards brilliance above wisdom and within which we pride ourselves first of all in being brighter than each other. Who has the highest degree? Who went to the most elite university? Who’s the most entrepreneurial? Who’s the most popular? Who’s the cleverest scientist, researcher, writer, journalist, television personality, or wit at the office or family table? Who’s the most brilliant? We never ask: Who’s the wisest? Today intelligence is valued far above wisdom and that’s not always good. We’re a highly informed and intelligent people, but our compassion is not nearly on par with our brilliance. We’re bright, but not wise.

What’s the difference between intelligence and wisdom? Wisdom is intelligence that’s colored by understanding (which, parsed to its root, means infused with empathy). In end, what makes for wisdom is intelligence informed by empathy, intelligence that’s grasps with sympathy the complexity of others and the world, and this has implications.

Learning, to be truly helpful, must be matched by an equal growth in empathy. When this isn’t happening, then growth in intelligence is invariably be one-sided and, while perhaps providing something for the community, will always lack the kind of understanding that can help bind the community together and help us better understand ourselves and our world. When intelligence is not informed by empathy, what it produces will generally not contribute to the common good. Without a concomitant empathy, intelligence invariably becomes arrogant and condescending. True learning, on the other hand, is humble, self-effacing and empathic. When we develop ourselves intellectually, without sufficient empathy, our talents invariably become causes for envy rather than gifts for community.

Ironically, at the end of the day, intelligence not sufficiently informed by empathy will not be very bright, but instead will be an arrested intelligence wherein its fault will not be in what it has learned (for learning itself is good) but in where its learning stopped. It will suffer from a hazard aptly named by Alexander Pope, where “a little learning is a dangerous thing,” where we have read one book too many but one book too few!

One might object here and make a plea for science and scientific objectivity. Isn’t empirical science the product of a pure intellectual pursuit which refuses to be colored by anything outside itself? Isn’t the ideal of all learning to be purely objective, to not have a bias of any sort? Where does empathy play a role in pure research? Doesn’t an eye turned towards empathy fudge pure objectivity?

Pure objectivity doesn’t exist, in science or anywhere else. Science today accepts that it can never be purely objective. All measurement has its own agenda, its own angle, and cannot help but interfere (however infinitesimally perhaps) with what it measures. Everyone and everything, including science, has a bias (euphemistically, a pre-ontology). Thus, since all learning necessarily begins with an angle, a bias, pre-ontology, the question is not: How can I be purely objective?” But rather: What serves us best as an angle from which to learn? The answer is empathy. Empathy turns intelligence into wisdom and wisdom turns learning into something that more properly serves community.

However empathy is not to be confused with sentimentality or naiveté, as is sometimes the case.
Sentimentality and naiveté see a fault within intellectuality itself, seeing learning itself as the problem. But learning is never the problem. One-sided learning is the problem, namely, learning that isn’t sufficiently informed by empathy, which seeks knowledge without understanding.

I teach graduate students who are mainly preparing for ministry within their churches and so, for them, graduate learning is, by definition, meant to be more than just scoring high marks, graduating with honor, being informed and educated, or even just satisfying their own intellectual curiosities and questions. By their very vocation, they are striving for wisdom more than for mere intelligence. But even they, like most everyone else in our culture, struggle to not be one-sided in their learning, to have their studies bring them as much compassion as knowledge. We all struggle with this. It’s hard to resist a temptation that’s as endemic in our culture as certain bacteria are in our waters, that is, the temptation to be clever and bright, more informed than everyone else, no matter if we aren’t very compassionate persons afterwards.
And so this column is a plea, not a criticism: To all of us, whether we’re doing formal studies; whether we’re trying to learn the newest information technology; whether we’re trying to keep ourselves informed socially and politically; whether we’re writing articles, books, or blogs; whether we’re taking training for a job; or whether we’re just mustering material for an argument at our family table or workplace, remember: It’s not good merely to be smart, we must also be compassionate.

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

Guest Column
By Melvin Arrington
Dear incoming Freshmen,
A popular 1960s TV series told viewers, “You are about to participate in a great adventure. You are about to experience the awe and mystery which reaches from the inner mind to the outer limits.” These words could well apply to you as you head off to college in a few weeks. Get ready; your horizons are about to expand exponentially and you’ll soon discover that the world is much bigger than you think.
A large number of your class will be leaving home and parental supervision for the first time. From now on, you’ll make your own decisions. Unfortunately, many choose to stop attending religious services during their college years. The latest surveys show that almost one in four Americans claims no religious affiliation; these are the so-called “nones.” College freshmen, don’t become one of these statistics.
The rise of the nones can be blamed, at least partially, on relativism, which now holds sway in our modern secular, materialistic culture. Truth has come to mean whatever you want it to mean, and the determination of right and wrong is largely a matter of personal opinion. When there’s “your truth” and “my truth,” then we have no truth. But you’ve been taught the difference between right and wrong. Remember what our Lord proclaimed in John’s Gospel: “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”
No matter what some of your professors and fellow students may tell you, faith and science are not enemies. The notion that there is a war going on between science and religion is nothing more than a modern myth. God is truth, and the Catholic Church encourages the pursuit of truth, wherever it may be found.
After all, it was the Catholic Church that fostered and developed the scientific method and founded the university system. Consider these important figures from the history of science: the 13th century English philosopher and Franciscan friar, Roger Bacon, one of the earliest proponents of empiricism and experimental science; the 16th century astronomer and Catholic cleric, Nicolaus Copernicus, famous for overthrowing the age-old geocentric theory of Ptolemy by proving that the earth orbits the sun; and the 19th century Augustinian friar, Gregor Mendel, known as the father of modern genetics. And let’s not forget Father Georges Lemaitre, the twentieth-century mathematician and astronomer who formulated the Big Bang theory of the origin of the universe! Bam! Don’t let them tell you the Church is anti-science. Remember, the Catholic Church formed the basis for Western civilization and was, in large measure, responsible for its development over the centuries.
College campuses used to be citadels of learning, somewhat isolated from the problems of the outside world. However, in recent decades the “real world” has invaded our campuses resulting in drug abuse epidemics, sexual assaults, hate speech and racially motivated violence and a host of other evils. For a variety of socio-political, cultural and economic reasons college campuses are no longer safe zones. Choose wisely when making new friends. You’re going to need a strong support group. Here’s my recommendation: check out some of the Catholic Campus Ministry activities at your school.
You will hear a lot of talk of political correctness and left/right politics, but don’t let yourself be distracted by these discussions. Left and right are false categories when it comes to questions of faith. If we truly love those in need, we’ll figure out the best methods for serving them and not worry about whether others label us liberal or conservative.
You already know the importance of acquiring knowledge, but the real goal is to attain wisdom. As you think through the tough issue of the day, you will develop what the academic world calls critical thinking skills, but don’t forget about the role of faith in your life. If your mind is going to soar upward, it’s going to need both wings – reason and faith – in order to arrive at the truth. A bird can’t fly with just one wing.
Ecclesiastes tells us there’s nothing new under the sun. It’s all been thought, said and done before, but it may be new to you. If you haven’t already begun to explore the big questions, now that you are in college you should begin to do so in earnest. I’m referring to questions such as: Who am I? Where do I come from and where am I going? Does human life have a meaning and purpose? Why am I here? How am I supposed to live? What happens when I die? What ultimately matters? And the big one that always comes up as a challenge to Christians – Why does an omnipotent and benevolent God allow bad things to happen to good people?
Venerable Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen once acknowledged that it’s not easy for Catholics to explain why God permits evil and suffering, but at the same time he boldly asserted that it’s impossible for an atheist to explain the existence of goodness and love in our world. You simply can’t have love without God, because God is love.
Your college experience should turn out to be some of the best years of your lives. It’s a time to discover things you didn’t know about yourself and the world we live in today. It’s an opportunity to transition to independent living and meet people from different backgrounds. You will form life-long friendships over the next four years or so, and you may even meet your future spouse. Establish a proper balance between studies and social activities, be safe, and stay focused on what’s really important in life. Always remember your family loves you and, more importantly, God loves you.
P.S. And be sure to go to Mass.

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

Reflections on Life
By Berta Mexidor
“ For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus made me free from the law of sin and of death.” (Romans 8: 2)
Faith in God and permanent prayer are the palliative with which thousands of undocumented immigrants maintain for years a life outside immigration law. “But if, while we sought to be justified in Christ, we ourselves also were found sinners, is Christ a minister of sin? God forbid.” (Galatians 2:17)
When a person decides to become an illegal immigrant, most of the time he or she has weighed the great dilemma and consequences of its actions. Many immigrants come to the United States with the certainty of finding laws much more humane and reasonable than those of his country of origin. “And the law came in besides, that the trespass might abound; but where sin abounded, grace did abound more exceedingly.” (Romans 5:20) In a joint statement, the bishops of Mississippi stressed that the role of the church at this time is “to provide comfort, material assistance and strength to separated children, parents and families and to those traumatized.”
In the raids conducted, people arrested, were found in their places of employment. Many did not have legal documents to work or remain in the United States. Some people were quickly released to continue with their lives, yet others were released with electronic bracelets, while waiting for a court appearance. Some of those detained will choose to return to their home countries voluntarily. Others, depending on their legal situation, will be deported or prosecuted criminally, while their relatives can only hold on to the divine and man’s laws.
In the bishops joint statement, they point out “to say that immigration reform is a contentious and complex topic would be an understatement.” Millions of people want to come to the United States for the humanization of their laws, contributing to a healthier life for every citizen, economic and personally. Many must wait for years. Thousands are waiting around the world, trusting the system, others resign themselves to stay in their countries and cast away the dream of living in America, the” promised land,” the “American dream.”
There are others who, in a situation of abuse, poverty and despair, cannot wait or do not have the financial means or education and decide to cross the border by risking their lives and that of their children. The vast majority subject their children to a situation of hopeful illegality when they bring them across the border. Others are procreated here in the States and are in fact American citizens. Their parents raising them with the hope of a better life and a possible immigration solution for their family members.
Generally, this illegality is not planned, therefore, there is no contingency plan present. There is no talk of hidden pain before children, some of whom grow up without knowing all the legal implications of the complex situation of their parents and relatives are going through.
Unfortunately, some immigrants take advantage of the laws and commit deceptive acts. These negatively affect American society and all immigrants.
The expectations of undocumented immigrants are to work and to live in a much healthier society than they left behind. None want to be captured, but each of them knows that capture is a possibility of the situation in which they find themselves. No person is fully prepared to face the authorities and much less to see their children suffer throughout the process.
The vast majority of immigrants are simple, fervent Christians, good parents and family people who aspire for a better life for their descendants. Some voices try to vilify the immigrant or consider them a victim. Immigrants are neither one nor the other. They are just people. When they break the law, it is only as a last resource for family improvement. With much humility, many are aware of the transgression, but the human misfortune in which they live drives them into an act of courage with civil or criminal consequences.
Many immigrants are Catholics much like you. The church is the center of understanding, spiritual help and the place to share experiences with people in the same situation or with those who share the same faith. They ask God for forgiveness for their sins and mercy as a reward under the received promise of “ But go ye and learn what this meaneth, I desire mercy, and not sacrifice: for I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.” (Matthew 9:13).

(Berta Mexidor is Mississippi Catholic contributor, manages content for Mississippi Católico. Native of Cuba, in the U.S. for 18 years and hold a master’s degree in political sciences.)

IN SPIRIT AND TRUTH

By Father Aaron Williams
Since being ordained last year, one thing I have noticed is the consistent negative reaction people will give to the use of incense at Mass. I think it is safe to say most people have no opinion, but those that do make sure you know it! This past month I have been living north of Chicago at the Liturgical Institute in order to spend time totally devoted to research and writing my master’s thesis. During this time away from the parish, I decided on Sundays to go and concelebrate the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom at a local Byzantine Catholic Church.
Most people in Mississippi have never experienced a non-Roman Catholic liturgical rite, but one feature of the Eastern rites is their consistent use of incense. It is used in every liturgy — and in large amounts. I’d leave the church every Sunday and my vestments would smell of incense well into the rest of the week.
Incense has been part of the worship of God from the earliest time there was a prescribed and formal way to worship God. In the book of Exodus, God not only commands Moses to use incense in worship, but He even goes on at length as how this incense is to be made (Exodus 30:34-38). Incense is one of the only elements from Old Testament worship which remained entirely unchanged in Catholic worship all through the centuries. It is spoken of in the psalms, “Let my prayer arise like incense, and the lifting up of my hands as an evening sacrifice!” (Psalm 141:2).
Traditionally, incense has been understood in two ways. Firstly, it is a literal sacrifice. Incense is precious and usually a bit expensive. And, once you burn it the incense is gone. We totally give it over to God as a complete offering to Him. It may seem small, but we can think about all the small things we do for loved ones that may to others seem useless: buying fresh flowers or sending greeting cards. We do this in the liturgy through incense, real wax candles and freshly cut flowers. These are small offerings of our heart.
But, incense is also such an effective sign. It fills the space — evoking the image of the dark cloud which filled the Solomon’s temple in Jerusalem at its dedication. “When the priests came out of the holy place, a cloud filled the house of the Lord, so that the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud; for the glory of the Lord filled the house of the Lord” (1 Kings 8:10-11). And, as mentioned in the psalm above, it gives a visualization to us of our prayers rising up to heaven — which is moving to consider especially in high points like the Offertory of the Mass when we should already be pouring forth all the prayers we want to bring to the Mass or at the commendation of a funeral Mass when the community pours out prayers for the deceased.
Incense is always part of the solemn liturgy. Before the reform of the liturgy in 1969 it was required in all high Masses — which was any Mass in which texts of the Mass were sung. The rubrics of the current Missal are very clear that incense is still a part of the solemn liturgy, though it expounds upon that by saying that it can be used gradually and need not be used in a sort of all-or-nothing manner from Mass to Mass. So, how should it be used today?
For most parishes in our area, incense comes out one day a year: Easter and only at the Easter vigil. Some parishes might use it for the really big feast days. But, thinking about all that incense means and how many centuries it has been used in the worship of God, surely we can find a way to use it on more than one occasion a year?
In other places, including many of the parishes I visited in New Orleans while in seminary, incense is used at one Mass every Sunday—the main Mass with the choir. I find this a good practice since, on one hand it ensures that this sacred sign is richly used in a parish, while also giving people an idea of what to expect from week to week.
You start to get used to the idea of the 10:30 a.m. Mass, for example, being the Mass with all the singing and incense. For the people that doesn’t work for, they always know the other Masses are ‘safe’.
One great benefit to regularly using incense is the interest this attracts among the altar servers. A lot of parishes find it difficult to get a large number of regular altar servers. I am of the mind that one reason this is an issue is because we don’t give servers much to do over than carrying things around. We all know kids—especially young boys—love the opportunity for a fire. Training kids how to use and prepare the incense (and maybe how to use a fire extinguisher as well) gives them a sense of responsibility and importance, while also adding a beautiful element from our Catholic tradition to your parish’s worship.

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

Kneading faith
By Fran Lavelle
I have never been drawn into a papal document to the degree Pope Francis’ exhortation to young people, Christus Vivit, has captured my attention and my heart. As we prepare to return to our classrooms, religious education programs, RCIA meetings, adult faith formation opportunities, campus ministries and youth programs it is important that we ask some serious questions about how we are being challenged in our call. The Church does not do succession planning very well and, therefore, we have folks putting time in in ministry roles well beyond their vigor. Before you accuse me of being indifferent and an ageist, hear me out.

I was having lunch with a friend the other day and she remarked that we can serve many, many years in ministry or we can serve one year in ministry several times over. Ministry is organic and as we grow and change so too our ministry must be able to grow and change. Bishop Kopacz often reminds us that we never step into the same river twice. We can step in at the exact same spot, but the water is always new, the sediment and rocks have shifted, even the temperature of the water is different. I like that image, especially for formational ministry. The room may be the same as last year, the textbook, schedule and lesson plans too, but you are different, your students are different.

When we become complacent, we tend to pull the template out from “last year” and proceed like nothing has changed. When we allow this to happen, our eyes are closed to the present reality. Our ears cannot hear the voices of those we are called to serve. We lose our mojo. Because really, deep down inside, we all know that we never step into the same river twice. A glance back, especially for those of us who have been at it for a while, can reveal how very much things have changed. I’m not suggesting that Church elders give up their call to ministry; rather, we need to check to see if our energy, passion and openness to change is still there in our current role. Pope Francis would argue that young people need mentors of all ages who are capable of accompaniment, intentional listening and are relational. If that time has passed for us, there are still many ways we can serve in ministry. It is about our time aligning with God’s time.When we are open to knowing when that dynamic of time is off kilter doors will open to new opportunities.

In paragraph 191 of Christus Vivit, Pope Francis states, “The world has never benefitted, nor will it ever benefit, from a rupture between generations. That is the siren song of a future without roots and origins. It is the lie that would have you believe that only what is new is good and beautiful. When intergenerational relationships exist, a collective memory is present in communities, as each generation takes up the teachings of its predecessors and in turn bequeaths a legacy to its successors. In this way, they provide frames of reference for firmly establishing a new society. As the old saying goes: ‘If the young had knowledge and the old strength, there would be nothing they could not accomplish.’”

We need the wisdom of our elders as much as we need energy of young people. We need to be able to hear new ideas as much as we need the solid foundation of the kerygma.

A few weeks ago, I celebrated my 20 year anniversary with the Diocese of Jackson. It gave me the opportunity to look back as I look forward to year twenty-one. Twenty years of ministry. No two years have been the same. No two days have been alike. I recognize that even in walking with the same student for four or five years, each year was different. Hopefully, we both grew in wisdom, understanding and love. It’s been five years since I left campus ministry to take on my current role in formational ministries for the diocese. I had to let go of one thing I knew I loved to be able to embrace something new.

Following God’s call to ministry for the diocese has had many challenges; but it is also filled with much joy. The day will come that I need to turn this ministry over to someone else. We talk about intentional disciples. What we need to talk about is authentic disciples who exercise intentional ministry. This includes succession planning. The torch gets passed. Someone else picks up where we left off. Another generation of leadership takes the helm. All of it done intentionally.

As we begin another academic year, I pray for great success in your ministry. Please know I am an email or phone call away if you ever need anything.

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

IN EXILE

By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
What does it mean to “be born again, to “be born from above?” If you’re an Evangelical or Baptist, you’ve probably already answered that for yourself. However, if you’re a Roman Catholic or a mainline Protestant then the phrase probably isn’t a normal part of your spiritual vocabulary and, indeed, might connote for you a biblical fundamentalism which confuses you.
What does it mean to “be born again?” The expression appears in John’s Gospel in a conversation Jesus has with a man named, Nicodemus. Jesus tells him that he “must be born again from above.” Nicodemus takes this literally and protests that it’s impossible for a grown man to re-enter his mother’s womb to be born a second time. So, Jesus recasts the phrase metaphorically, telling Nicodemus that one’s second birth, unlike the first, is not from the flesh, but “from water and the Spirit.” Well … that doesn’t clarify things much for Nicodemus, or for us. What does it mean to be born again from above?
Perhaps there are as many answers to that as there are people in the world. Spiritual birth, unlike physical birth, doesn’t mean the same thing for everyone. I have Evangelical friends who share that for them this refers to a particularly powerful affective moment within their lives when, like Mary Magdala in the Garden with Jesus on Easter Sunday, they had a deep personal encounter with Jesus that indelibly affirmed his intimate love for them. In that moment, in their words, “they met Jesus Christ” and “were born again,” even though from their very childhood they had always known about Jesus Christ and been Christians.
Most Roman Catholics and mainline Protestants do not identify “knowing Jesus Christ” with one such personal affective experience. But then they’re left wondering what Jesus meant exactly when he challenges us “to be born again, from above.”
A priest that I know shares this story regarding his understanding of this. His mother, widowed sometime before his ordination, lived in the same parish where he had been assigned to minister. It was a mixed blessing, nice to see her every day in church but she, widowed and alone, began to lean pretty heavily upon him in terms of wanting his time and he, the dutiful son, now had to spend all his free time with his mother, taking her out for meals, taking her for drives and being her one vital contact with the world outside the narrow confines of the seniors’ home within which she lived. During their time together she reminisced a lot and not infrequently complained about being alone and lonely. But one day, on a drive with her, after a period of silence, she said something that surprised him and caught his deeper attention: “I’ve given up on fear!” she said. “I’m no longer afraid of anything. I’ve spent my whole life living in fear. But now, I’ve given up on it because I’ve nothing to lose! I’ve already lost everything, my husband, my youthful body, my health, my place in the world and much of my pride and dignity. Now I’m free! I’m no longer afraid!”
Her son, who had only been half-listening to her for a long time, now began to listen. He began to spend longer hours with her, recognizing that she had something important to teach him. After a couple of more years, she died. But, by then, she had been able to impart to her son some things that helped him understand his life more deeply. “My mother gave me birth twice; once from below, and once from above,” he says. He now understands something that Nicodemus couldn’t quite grasp.
We all, no doubt, have our own stories.
And what do the biblical scholars teach about this? The Synoptic Gospels, scholars say, tell us that we can only enter the kingdom of God if we become like little children, meaning that we must, in our very way of living, acknowledge our dependence upon God and others. We are not self-sufficient and that means truly recognizing and living out our human dependence upon the gratuitous providence of God. To do that, is to be born from above.
John’s Gospel adds something to this. Raymond E. Brown, commenting on John’s Gospel, puts it this way: To be born again from above means we must, at some point in our lives, come to understand that our life comes from beyond this world, from a place and source beyond out mother’s womb and that deeper life and deeper meaning lie there. And so, we must have two births, one that gives us biological life (births us into this world) and another that gives us eschatological life (births us into the world of faith, soul, love and spirit). And sometimes, as was the case with my friend, it can be your own birthmother who does the major midwifing in that second birth.
Nicodemus couldn’t quite get past his instinctual empiricism. In the end, he didn’t get it. Do we?

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