GUEST COLUMN
By Jaymie Stuart Wolfe

“We are an Easter people and ‘alleluia’ is our song.” We love to quote St. Augustine when we talk about what the church of Jesus Christ is. And honestly, there may be no better description. But I think a lot of us, somewhere along the line, have lost hope that we will experience the fullness of salvation that Christ’s resurrection signifies on this side of eternity. Instead, we settle for something far less than God intends for us.

What do I mean? Basically, that a lot of Catholics have simply given up.

It often goes something like this. We get a bit older, weighed down with adult responsibility, and the glow of our faith – our childlike trust in God – can begin to wear off. We pray, but the answer we want doesn’t occur. We undergo times of suffering and loss, but there is little relief or consolation to be found. We grow frustrated banging our heads against the same walls, and falling to the same temptations and sins again and again.

So we throw up our hands and decide to accept the way things are, and even more to the point, the way we are. We convince ourselves that nothing will ever really change, that all we’ve been taught to believe just isn’t going to work for us. God may be very busy blessing other people, but we can’t expect to be holy, healed or forgiven anytime soon. Life, we tell ourselves, just doesn’t work that way. The Gospel stories may well be true, but it is unlikely that Jesus will ever speak to us or transform us – let alone raise us from the dead.

Amid that kind of hopelessness, we may well be tempted to throw in the towel. Many have done just that. It’s understandable, of course. There are only so many times we can ask ourselves, “Why am I here?” before we decide not to be. Or before we allow the lies of the enemy to distract, discourage and distance us from what God wants to give us. The problem is that once we expect nothing, we become incapable of receiving much of anything.

Easter sets us straight.

The evil one wants us to believe that the character defects we’ve always had – the ones that are responsible for the bulk of the sins we confess – aren’t going anywhere. That is not the case. While we may not reach perfection in this life, we can make genuine and significant progress. Old habits are tough to beat. But God’s grace makes up for where our efforts fail. The Holy Spirit dwelling in our hearts is the gift of sanctifying grace. What doesn’t happen here on earth will be completed in purgatory. The good news is that everyone who wants to be a saint will, in fact, become one.

We may be tempted to give up on healing past hurts. Dogged by brokenness and struggling to find peace, we can lose sight of God’s healing presence. But the glorified wounds of Jesus show us not only what God can do. All we have suffered is given a part in our redemption and in the redemption of others. Easter means that what is ugliest in our lives is made not only beautiful, but glorious.

Our sins, no matter how great, can be forgiven. There is nothing that puts us beyond God’s reach, other than our own choice to reject his mercy. The enemy of our souls would be happy to see us wallowing in our own sinfulness, uncertain of God’s willingness to forgive us. Easter shows us that is precisely what the Savior does for anyone – anyone – who asks.

Salvation is not just a happy ending in another life. The stone has been rolled away. The reign of the Victor King begins here and now. We don’t become who we were created to be only by leaving this world behind. Death in all its forms has been conquered by the Risen Christ. We don’t have to die with a full complement of all our sins and failures. Jesus breaks the bond of sin. We might be tempted to doubt the truth or power of the Resurrection as some of Jesus’ disciples did. But Easter really does change everything, and it can change us. Even more, Easter can raise us from the dead.

(Jaymie Stuart Wolfe is a sinner, Catholic convert, freelance writer and editor, musician, speaker, pet-aholic, wife and mom of eight grown children, loving life in New Orleans.)

On Ordinary Times
By Lucia A. Silecchia

Recently, I was in the happy company of a seven-year-old. She asked me the delightfully shocking, and shockingly delightful question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

The question was shocking to me because it has been decades since someone asked me this question with the earnest sincerity of my young interlocutor. Perhaps she has been asked this question so often that she thought it was a standard part of social etiquette. Perhaps she dislikes this question and thought she could avoid it by going on the offensive by asking it of me before I could ask it of her. Regardless of the “why,” the question certainly surprised me.

Yet, it surprised me in a delightful way.

When we ask young children “what do you want to be when you grow up,” we are usually asking them a superficial question about the role they hope to have in life. Most often, they will reply by telling us the occupation of their dreams, the trade they hope to learn and, perhaps, as they get older, the state of life they anticipate will lie ahead.

But, when this inquisitive young child asked me that same question decades into my adulthood, I had to think about it for a while. That was a delightful excuse for reflection.

Too often, when the date on the calendar tells us we are adults, it can seem as though we have already answered the big questions about what our lives will be. Indeed, we have likely made some of the sacred commitments that will define the rest of our lives. Yet sometimes it takes a small question from an earnest young child to remind us that, even then, we never stop growing up.

It takes a small question to remind us that even if we think we know “what” we hope to be when we grow up, we have a lifetime to become “who” we want to be. There are times – blessedly frequent times – when I meet someone I admire for who they are, not what they do. When I meet such good people, I sometimes say to myself, or in jest to a friend, “That’s who I want to be when I grow up.” It is never too late to be inspired by the good and holy people in our lives and to hope we will “grow up” to be like them.

It takes a small question to remind us that there is great value in asking ourselves throughout our lives whether we are doing what we should be doing or whether there is something more or something else to which we could and should devote our time and energy. It is easy to get used to a routine, ignore an unrealized dream, fear a new invitation, and avoid a new beginning. Prayerfully seeking guidance about new ventures such as these is yet another way to learn what life may look like as we continue to “grow up.” If somehow, we can do that with the fearless optimism of a child, we are truly blessed.

It takes a small question to remind us that no matter how old we think we have become, we remain, in the eyes of God, still His children. Each day He gives us is still another day not to tell Him “what I want to be” but to prayerfully ask Him “who I should be” when I grow up.

It takes a small question to remind us that we should not only ask the children in our lives what they anticipate it will be like to “grow up.” Perhaps it is also a question to pose, with love, to the adults in our lives who need to know that there is a newness of life unfolding in all the days of their ordinary times.

(Lucia A. Silecchia is a Professor of Law and Associate Dean for Faculty Research at the Catholic University of America’s Columbus School of Law. Email her at silecchia@cua.edu.)

Things Old and New
By Ruth Powers

“Blessed are the Peacemakers, for they shall be called the Children of God.” (Matthew 5:9)

It seems that we cannot turn on the television or pick up a newspaper without being bombarded with news and images of violence and warfare throughout the world. This is certainly nothing new. War has been a part of human existence since the first two tribes of cavemen picked up rocks and sticks to throw at each other.

The Bible is full of stories of war; war that the Biblical authors at times indicated was commanded by God. With the coming of Jesus, he certainly taught that his followers were to be people of peace although he warned that others would take up arms against them; and the historical record shows that the earliest Christians were probably pacifists in response to Christ’s command. In fact, some of the early persecutions were sparked by Christians who refused to serve in the armies of Rome, thus appearing to be traitors to the emperor. This early attitude did not last, and by the Middle Ages the church itself fielded armies and went to war, sometimes on the flimsiest of pretexts.

As time passed and new methods of destruction in warfare developed, the church began to reclaim the earlier ideal that war was to be avoided, or at least only used as a last resort. In the Catechism of the Catholic Church the section dealing with avoiding war and Just War theory is introduced by the statement, “All citizens and all governments are obliged to work for the avoidance of war.” (CCC 2308) However, that statement is followed up with a quote from Gaudium et Spes, the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World from the Second Vatican Council, that says, “as long as the danger of war persists and there is no international authority with the necessary competence and power, governments cannot be denied the right of lawful self-defense, once all peace efforts have failed.”

The conditions for legitimate defense by military force are based on the work of Sts. Augustine and Aquinas and are quite rigorous. They are outlined in section 2309 of the Catechism but have been explained and expanded by countless moral theologians and church leaders over the centuries.
First and most importantly, the war must be fought in order to confront an unquestioned danger. Economic motivations, the desire for expanded territory, or revenge are not considered just reasons. There must be no ulterior or masked motive in the declaration of a war. The “damage inflicted by the aggressor on the nation or community of nations must be lasting, grave and certain.”

Second, war must be declared by a proper authority acting on behalf of the nation. A private individual or group of individuals may not declare a war. Terrorist actions by groups or individuals are never allowable under Just War theory.

Third, armed conflict must be a last resort. All other means of resolving the issue must have been proven to be impractical or ineffective. All parties must have exhausted all means of resolving the conflict peacefully, including negotiation, mediation or embargoes.

Fourth, the war must have a reasonable chance of success in achieving its purpose. Finally, the good of waging the war must not be outweighed by its harm, especially to innocent non-combatants. The use of modern chemical, biological and nuclear weapons figures heavily into determining the legitimacy of a war. Some theologians have gone so far as to say that the use of those three classes of weapons can never be legitimate. If a country meets these criteria, then it may justly enter war. In addition, a country can come to the assistance of another country who is not able to defend itself if these criteria are met.

Even if the conditions for a Just War are met, there are still certain actions which are never morally acceptable in war. The extermination of a people, nation or ethnic minority (genocide) is never morally licit and must be resisted. “Only following orders” is not a moral defense. Non-combatants, the wounded, and prisoners of war are to be treated humanely. “Indiscriminate destruction of whole cities or vast areas with their civilian inhabitants is a crime against God and man.” (CCC 2313) Purposeful targeting of areas with large civilian populations is not allowed.

Modern popes, beginning with Pope Pius XII, who have seen the horrors of two World Wars and numerous smaller conflicts have spoken out forcefully against war and the destruction inherent in war. We as Catholic Christians are called to carefully evaluate the actions of our leaders and our own attitudes as we see our nation become involved in conflicts around the globe.

(Ruth Powers is the program coordinator for The Basilica of St. Mary in Natchez.)

From the Hermitage
By sister alies therese

Due to hospitalization, I have been away from church, since before Christmas. I am still at a rehab in Louisville where my church members have been so kind to visit and bring treats.

That, however, has not stopped me from reading and praying and receiving the Eucharist when possible. There is something very tender about the sacraments in a hospital bed! The ministers who bring Jesus are very special.

How many folks in your parish are at home or in the hospital and need the Eucharist? If only someone would bring Him!

There is something special both for the person and for the minister as well. For the sick, the reception of the Eucharist is not only a privilege but also a sign of support and concern shown by the Christian community. Bringing a good word from the scriptures, cheer from your heart, a message of healing from parishioners, and the Eucharist are certainly highlights for ministers to the sick and homebound.

You might remember that the tabernacle was originally kept in church not so much for adoration as for the sick! The Eucharist was kept there to make sure even the most vulnerable were able to receive! Are you the one to make sure the healing power of Jesus in the Eucharist gets to your sisters and brothers?

There is a certain hope needed when you are very ill. Often one is so in need, only the Eucharist will do. Hope truly gives the heart a dimension that cannot be replaced by anything else. Be the one to bring hope and healing. Even the smallest things bring joy!

(Sister alies therese is a canonically vowed hermit with days formed around prayer and writing.)