Bishop Joseph Kopacz

By Bishop Joseph Kopacz
The celebration of the Lord’s birth, the Incarnation, literally, the “Word became flesh, and pitched his tent among us,” (John 1, 14) is a dramatic proclamation of faith that God is in our midst and relentlessly pursues us in the wonderful story of salvation.
The literal translation of the tent in our midst is so apt because at any moment the Lord Jesus can pull up stakes and walk with us, or pursue us wherever we may go. This is the mystery that Pope Francis is pointing us towards in the Evangelii Guadium, the Joy of the Gospel, when he invites us to wrestle with the statement, “time is more important that space.”
When we encounter our living and loving incarnate Lord, or better said, when he grasps us (Phil 3, 14) we can joyfully shout, “Glory to God in the highest and peace on earth” (Luke 2, 14), because even if we remained silent the very stones would shout out. (Luke 19,40) The Infancy Narratives in their simplicity and in their sophistication intermingle darkness and light. Herod’s violence and hate, reeking havoc in our own time, pursues the Christ in order to destroy him and all associated with him. Yet, he could not silence the voices of the angels and shepherds, nor menace the Magi’s search for truth.
This holds true for us in our time because the voices of hate and violence against the Lord’s disciples, the Church, often only strengthens our resolve, especially in the blood of the martyrs. The Incarnation of the Lord must not be severed from his crucifixion and resurrection, and when we play it forward we can see a similar account in the story of Saint Paul.
For a time, he was Herod in disguise relentlessly hunting down the disciples of the Lord in order to destroy the nascent community of believers.
Joseph Holzner in his book Paul of Tarsus offers an inspired account of the beginning of Saul’s conversion in which we see the divine purpose of the Incarnation in action.
“He, Saint Paul, was the hunter driven by an insatiable thirst for the prey. However, in those days on the road to Damascus, another, the Master of those disciples he is hunting, is also on the trail. Paul thought that he was the hunter, but indeed, he was the quarry.
Christ is the Divine Hunter, the Hound of Heaven, and here on the road to Damascus he is running down a most precious quarry who will not be able to escape.”
God’s divine desire to embrace the heart and mind of every human being in Jesus Christ, the Word made Flesh, is at work in the Church at every moment throughout the world. Each of us and all people are most precious to Jesus Christ who inspires our hopes and dreams in his holy season. This work is evident throughout the Diocese of Jackson in season and out of season. (2Timothy 4, 2)
When we pause to reflect and treasure all these things in our hearts, as did Mary in the aftermath of the shepherds’ visit, we can see and hear the Gospel alive in ordinary and extraordinary ways, every day in the 65 counties of our diocese. In comparison to much larger Christian denominations, we may be small in number, but we are “proclaiming the Lord Jesus by living the Gospel so that all may experience the crucified and living Lord.” (Mission Statement)
I am grateful for so many coworkers in the Vineyard of the Lord who serve in numerous ministries and admirable ways to bring the Good News of Jesus Christ to the people of our time. Some of you have been serving for a long time. Some have pitched their tents among us just recently. In particular, on behalf of the entire Diocese of Jackson and many in Holmes County, I want to welcome Sister Mary Walz, DC, Sister Madeline Kavenaugh, DC, and Sister Sheila Conley, SC, who arrived last month to build back up the hope of the Gospel in the aftermath of Sister Paula and Sister Margaret’s murders a years and half ago.
With their own unique gifts forged in the fires of pastoral ministry over many years they will take up the torch of loving service in the name of the Lord Jesus. (See related story on page 4)
During the closing days of Advent may we pray that the way of the Lord in our lives is wide open to celebrate his birth into our lives through faith.
Merry Christmas.

Bishop Joseph Kopacz

By Bishop Joseph Kopacz
The first Sunday of Advent marked the beginning of a new Church year and a focused time of preparation for the coming of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Spiritually, Advent suffuses every Eucharist at which Catholics gather.
During the communion rite following the Our Father at each Mass the celebrant offers an intercessory prayer on behalf of all in preparation for Holy Communion with the Lord. “Deliver us, Lord, we pray from every evil, graciously grant peace in our days, that, by the help of your mercy, we may be always free from sin and safe from all distress, as we await the blessed hope and the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.” We pray in joyful hope that the Lord will come again, and real soon.
As the season progresses we naturally turn our hearts and minds toward his first coming in the Incarnation. Typically, four weeks in duration, this year we are on the fast track in Advent because the season is only three weeks and four hours long. The fourth Sunday of Advent is celebrated in the morning and Christmas Eve begins later in the afternoon.
(The obligation for Mass on the fourth Sunday of Advent can be satisfied on Saturday evening or Sunday morning. The Christmas Mass obligation can be fulfilled on Sunday afternoon, Christmas Eve, or on Monday, Christmas Day. There is no dispensation for a two-for-one.)
Like a small craft going down stream on the Mississippi River, Advent is propelled headlong in the Christmas current, so the Yule Tide, so to speak. In this sense, Advent reminds us how challenging it is to find time and space to be in the presence of the living God in order to cultivate and reap the blessings of God’s promises. The Blessed Mother is a lamp for our feet as we walk through Advent; she is the gold standard for us as we yearn to bring Christ to light in our lives in the power of the Holy Spirit.
She was at the center of the Anawim, the poor ones in Israel who remained faithful to God in all circumstances, the ones whom God preserved. To receive the gift of the Holy Spirit through faith, prayer is to give flesh to the body of Jesus Christ. She teaches us the depth of piety that is possible during Advent, how to treasure all these things in our hearts, how to hope in God, how to turn the other in loving service, and how to offer hospitality to those searching for her Son and the Gospel way of life.
What is the awe and wonder of this season that raise our hopes and dreams to another level for ourselves, loved ones, and for the entire world? May it be the echo of the Gospel in our hearts and minds, our faith-filled vision for the world that all are God’s children, and that our lives are a gift because we are made in the image and likeness of God.
It is true as Saint Paul says, that all creation is indeed in agony, and we ourselves groan even though we have the first fruits of the Holy Spirit. Groaning or not, the Holy Spirit leads us away from fear and slavery to sin, to freedom as the children of God.
The following quote is from Bishop Donal Murray in his recent book, In a Landscape Redrawn, and it presents an Advent commitment to our world. “Everything that exists is a gift of the Creator. This is the core of the most profound answer, who are we? Christians do not see the gift as irrelevant to those who do not have faith. Each person is the result of the same creative and loving gift. Christians express their belief, not with any sense of superiority, but rather in the hope that this high vision of human dignity may find an echo in the hearts of all human beings. The Church knows that the Gospel of Life which she has received from her Lord has a profound echo in the heart of every person, believers and non believers alike, because it marvelously fulfills all the hearts expectations while infinitely surpassing them.”
As we hear the echo of the Lord’s call in our own lives during this season of Grace, may our hopes and dreams for this world, rooted in the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ, be in harmony with God’s vision for a world of justice and peace until the Lord comes again. Maranatha!

By Bishop Joseph Kopacz

Bishop Kopacz

The month of November is upon us with the deepening of darkness at day’s end and, spiritually, with the feasts of All Saints and all Souls that remind us that the Light of the World always shines in the darkness. Much more ardently in November and early December, the Catholic Church looks beyond what is seen to what is unseen when eternal life unfolds in its fullness. Ultimately, our citizenship is in heaven and eternal life envelops us.
Yet, in every season, the Church never is given a pass on living the Gospel with the mind and heart of the One who will come to judge the living and the dead. In fact, in November and December with the onset of the holidays, the Church along with many other organizations and people of good will, ramps up its efforts to serve the vulnerable poor and marginalized and to be in solidarity with all. We have some wonderful saints in November who are a lamp for our feet to walk with the Lord more faithfully in our generation.
Saint Martin de Porres, whose feast day is November 3 each year, is one such disciple of the Lordwho can inspire many in our world to raise up those ensnared by darkness. Martin was born in Lima, Peru on December 9, 1579. He was the illegitimate son to a Spanish gentlemen and a freed slave from Panama, of African or possibly Native American descent. At a young age, Martin’s father abandoned him, his mother and his younger sister, leaving Martin to grow up in profound poverty. After spending just two years in primary school, Martin was placed with a barber/surgeon where he would learn to cut hair and to apply the medical arts.
As Martin grew older he experienced a great deal of ridicule for being of mixed-race. In Peru, by law, all descendants of African or Indians were not allowed to become full members of religious orders. However, not even unrelenting hardship and abandonment could separate Martin from the love of Jesus Christ. Gradually his resolute commitment to pour out his life in the footsteps of the Master overcame the prejudices and racism of his culture and the Church. Until the time of his death at 60 years old in 1639 he was praised for his unconditional care of all people, regardless of race or wealth. He took care of everyone from the Spanish nobles to the African slaves. Martin didn’t care if the person was diseased or dirty, he would welcome them into his own home. Martin’s life reflected his great love for God and all of God’s gifts. This is the Church at work.
Mother Teresa-like, in every corner of the world, the incarnate Lord washing the feet of his apostles and pouring out his life on the Cross. In yesterday’s scripture readings at Mass, Saint Paul in his first letter to the Thessalonians, in the earliest recorded written word in the New Testament, about 50 A.D., reveals the Gospel charism which has transformed lives and cultures for nearly 2000 years.
“Brothers and sisters: We were gentle among you, as a nursing mother cares for her children. With such affection for you, we were determined to share with you, not only the gospel of God, but our very selves as well, so dearly beloved had you become to us. You recall, brothers and sisters, our toil and drudgery. Working night and day in order not to burden any of you, we proclaimed to you the gospel of God.” (1Thes 2, 7b-9)
The witness of Saint Paul and Saint Martin, of Mother Teresa and of all the saints, Catholic and non-Catholic, canonized or not, is the leaven of loving service in our Church and in our world that will overcome the hatred and violence, the greed and the lust that continue to poison the life-blood of our nation and world. With a greater sense of urgency in the face of encroaching darkness, in nature and at the hands of those driven by evil and along with the countless opportunities for generosity and solidarity that beckon us in the time ahead, may we heed the call of the Lord to live the Gospel and value the things that really matter.

BY BISHOP JOSEPH KOPACZ In 2003 I was privileged to travel to El Salvador and Guatemala to the shrines of the martyrs with the Maryknoll Fathers and Brothers who had served in Central America in the preceding decades. The home base for our two-week pilgrimage was the Maryknoll Retreat Center in Guatemala City from where we traveled to the mountainous regions of that nation, as well as across the border to El Salvador. This weekend I am attending the beatification of Father Stanley Rother, one of those martyrs, a priest from Oklahoma City who laid down his life for his friends, the Tz’utujil, the indigenous people of the Lake Atitlan region in the mountains of Guatemala. Following the Second Vatican Council Pope Paul VI called for greater solidarity in the Catholic Church of the Western Hemisphere, and encouraged the Church in North America to journey in faith with their brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ in Central and South America. Soon after, as we know so well, the Diocese of Natchez-Jackson began its mission in Saltillo, Mexico, while
the Diocese of Oklahoma City was adopting the region of Lake Atitlan in the Diocese of Solola, Guatemala. Father Stanley Rother became part of the mission of his diocese in 1968, and immersed himself in the lives of the Tz’utujil people until his martyrdom in 1981. Like the Curé of Ars, Father Rother had struggled mightily with his academic studies in seminary formation, and was dismissed after First Theology. But he did not waver in his desire to the serve the Lord as a priest, and with the support of his bishop, he was given a second chance at Mount Saint Mary’s in Emmetsburg, Md. With the successful completion of his studies he was ordained a priest in 1963. While serving in rural Oklahoma in his fifth year of priesthood, he accepted the invitation to go to the margins as a missionary disciple to the diocesan mission in Guatemala. It was not an easy transition because he did not speak Spanish, let alone the dialect of the indigenous Tz’utujil. However, one dimension of life that he did know intimately was hard work and perseverance in the face of adversity. Grinding away, one day to the next, in a few years he learned Spanish, and even more incredibly, mastered the Tz’utujil dialect, proceeding to translate the liturgical texts for the Sacraments of the Eucharist, Baptism, Confirmation, Anointing of the Sick, and Marriage, along with the New Testament into the language of his beloved
people. The love of Jesus Christ burning in his heart moved mountains. But even before learning how to communicate with words, Father Rother’s actions spoke volumes. He worked the land with his people as only an experienced farmer from Oklahoma could, teaching them, when appropriate, more effective farming techniques that yielded a richer harvest. Father Rother’s people loved him. Their language had no equivalent for the name Stanley, so they called him by his middle name of Francis, which in Tz’utujil became Padre A’Plas. They certainly did not think of God as a mystery that they themselves could master on their own terms. They looked at this man and others like him as visible channels of God’s presence, God’s compassion, God’s mercy. The indigenous people of that region had not known a priest for over a century, but with this good shepherd and others, they found a home in the Catholic Church.

By Bishop Joseph Kopacz
In 2003 I was privileged to travel to El Salvador and Guatemala to the shrines of the martyrs with the Maryknoll Fathers and Brothers who had served in Central America in the preceding decades. The home base for our two-week pilgrimage was the Maryknoll Retreat Center in Guatemala City from where we traveled to the mountainous regions of that nation, as well as across the border to El Salvador.
This weekend I am attending the beatification of Father Stanley Rother, one of those martyrs, a priest from Oklahoma City who laid down his life for his friends, the Tz’utujil, the indigenous people of the Lake Atitlan region in the mountains of Guatemala. Following the Second Vatican Council Pope Paul VI called for greater solidarity in the Catholic Church of the Western Hemisphere, and encouraged the Church in North America to journey in faith with their brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ in Central and South America. Soon after, as we know so well, the Diocese of Natchez-Jackson began its mission in Saltillo, Mexico, while the Diocese of Oklahoma City was adopting the region of Lake Atitlan in the Diocese of Solola, Guatemala.
Father Stanley Rother became part of the mission of his diocese in 1968, and immersed himself in the lives of the Tz’utujil people until his martyrdom in 1981. Like the Curé of Ars, Father Rother had struggled mightily with his academic studies in seminary formation, and was dismissed after First Theology. But he did not waver in his desire to the serve the Lord as a priest, and with the support of his bishop, he was given a second chance at Mount Saint Mary’s in Emmetsburg, Md. With the successful completion of his studies he was ordained a priest in 1963. While serving in rural Oklahoma in his fifth year of priesthood, he accepted the invitation to go to the margins as a missionary disciple to the diocesan mission in Guatemala. It was not an easy transition because he did not speak Spanish, let alone the dialect of the indigenous Tz’utujil. However, one dimension of life that he did know intimately was hard work and perseverance in the face of adversity.
Grinding away, one day to the next, in a few years he learned Spanish, and even more incredibly, mastered the Tz’utujil dialect, proceeding to translate the liturgical texts for the Sacraments of the Eucharist, Baptism, Confirmation, Anointing of the Sick, and Marriage, along with the New Testament into the language of his beloved people. The love of Jesus Christ burning in his heart moved mountains. But even before learning how to communicate with words, Father Rother’s actions spoke volumes. He worked the land with his people as only an experienced farmer from Oklahoma could, teaching them, when appropriate, more effective farming techniques that yielded a richer harvest.
Father Rother’s people loved him. Their language had no equivalent for the name Stanley, so they called him by his middle name of Francis, which in Tz’utujil became Padre A’Plas. They certainly did not think of God as a mystery that they themselves could master on their own terms. They looked at this man and others like him as visible channels of God’s presence, God’s compassion, God’s mercy. The indigenous people of that region had not known a priest for over a century, but with this good shepherd and others, they found a home in the Catholic Church.
The mission team of 12 who was serving when Father Rother arrived in 1968 gradually departed, not to be replaced. And in the years leading up to his martyrdom, he was one among his people, the last man standing, so to speak. Paralleling the mission in Saltillo, many people from Oklahoma went to Santiago Atitlan over the years. But unlike our mission which remained active until nearly a decade ago before being shut down by drug cartel brutality, the violence in Guatemala and El Salvador began decades earlier.
Civil wars erupted across Central America in the 1970s and raged throughout most of the 1980s. It was a bloody struggle between government forces and rebel groups with the former perpetrating more than 90 percent of the atrocities against their own people. Tragically, countless indigenous poor were murdered in Guatemala, along with an estimated 70,000 victims in El Salvador. Indigenous Church workers as well as missionaries from North America were caught up in the crossfire. Among the well known martyrs, whose shrines I had visited while on pilgrimage, was Archbishop Oscar Romero of San Salvador who was gunned down at the altar by an assassin during the consecration of the Mass.
In 1980 three Religious Sisters, Ita Ford, M.M., Maura Clarke, M.M., Dorothy Kozel, O.S.U. and a Lay Missioner, Jean Donovan were raped and murdered by members of the Salvadoran National Guard. In 1989 El Salvadoran soldiers broke into the living quarters of the Jesuit priests at Central American University in San Salvador and executed six Jesuit priests, a housekeeper and her daughter. They were Fathers Ignacio Martin-Baro, S.J., Segundo Montes, S.J., Juan Ramon Moreno, S.J., Joaquin Lopez y Lopez, S.J., Amando Lopez, S.J., Juan Ramon Moreno, S.J., Elba Ramos, their housekeeper, and her 16-year-old daughter, Celina Ramos.
The dark clouds of reckless hate had reached the mountainous region of Lake Atitlan in the mid to late 1970s and the steady stream of abductions, murders and tortured remains went unabated in the ensuing years. In 1980 Father Rother was warned that his name was at the top of the death squads’ list and for a time he returned to the safety of his native Oklahoma. But he was tormented by the number of his beloved Tz’utujil people who were being mowed down by ruthless forces while he was far from harm’s way. With his bishop’s permission and the pained blessing of his family and friends, Father Rother returned for Holy Week, 1981.
His people rejoiced to embrace their shepherd once again. He gave them heart and hope. But the threats against his life only intensified. At night on July 28, 1981, three armed assassins broke into his rectory intending to abduct and torture him, before killing him and disposing of his body. Dying for his people was a sacrifice he was willing to make, but he had promised that he would not allow them to take him alive to torture and to throw away. For 15 minutes he fought them off with his bare fists, and realizing that they were not going to take this farm boy by force, they shot him in the head at point blank range. He was one of ten priests who was murdered in Guatemala in 1981.
There was an outpouring of grief in the immediate aftermath, but there was not an eruption of violence. During the funeral preparations Father Rother’s parents and family stated their intentions to bury his remains in the family plot in Oklahoma. His Tz’utujil family respectfully asked if they might keep his heart in Santiago Atitlan in their parish Church. They interceded that he had given them his heart in life; and with his heart they would cherish him in death. To this day it is encased at the back of Santiago Atitlan, the Church where his people faithfully ask his intercession when entering and leaving the house of the Lord that he had restored lovingly and ably during his years of service.
The following is a refection by Henri Nouwan who visited Atitlan two years after his martyrdom. “Stan was killed because he was faithful to his people in their long and painful struggle for human dignity, dying for them in whom he recognized the face of the suffering Lord. Stan stood with them as they learned how to read and write, sought proper nutrition and health care for their children, struggled to acquire small pieces of land to cultivate, and gradually free themselves from the chains of poverty and oppression. Martyrs are blood witnesses of God’s inexhaustible love for his people. We honor martyrs because they are the signs of hope for the living Church, they are reminders of God’s loving presence.”
Let us not forget the victims of such unspeakable violence, and grinding poverty, many who are forced to flee their homeland, then and now.

(Editor’s note: Bishop Joseph Kopacz is scheduled to attend Father Stanley Rother’s beatification ceremony in Oklahoma City Saturday, Sept. 23. Those who wish to know more about Father Rother can check out his biography, “The shepherd who didn’t run, Stanley Rother, martyr from Oklahoma,” by Maria Ruiz Scaperlanda.)

By Bishop Joseph Kopacz

Bishop Joseph Kopacz

To build and rebuild are so essential for us as we go about our daily lives, and especially for us as Christians working to further the Kingdom of God in our world, a Kingdom of truth and love, a kingdom of holiness and grace, a Kingdom of justice, love and peace. For many people as the extended gift of time of the Labor Day Weekend passed we found ourselves back into the rhythms of our daily lives, and ready or not, eager or resistant, life has a way of pulling and pushing us along. How creative is the concept that a long weekend at summer’s end, open to leisure and needed balance for our lives, gives us pause to reflect upon the dignity of work in all of its manifestations, the work of our hands, minds, hearts and spirit? The foundation of God’s Word is the work of creation, (six days) balanced by Sabbath rest (one day). The interplay of labor and rest in God produces much fruit as we fulfill our dignity and destiny as Imago Dei. Psalm 90, v. 17 asks God to bless the work of our hands so that we might indeed preserve the right order of things and further the work of creation. Work is good, and excerpts from the following poem “To Be of Use” by Marge Piercy captures the wisdom of the ages begun in God.
“The people I love the best jump into work head first without dallying in the shallows….I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart, who pull like water buffalo with massive patience, who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward, who do what has to be done, again and again…I want to be with people who submerge in the task, who go into the fields to harvest and work in a row and pass the bags along…The work of the world is common as mud, botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust. But the thing worth doing well done has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident…The pitcher cries for water to carry, and a person for work that is real.”
One can feel the energy in this remarkable poem, and visualize the purposeful activity of which she speaks. We can extend these images to every corner of our lives, and easily to the rebuilding that is underway in Houston and Beaumont and in many communities in southeastern Texas after hurricane Harvey and in Florida and the Caribbean after Hurricane Irma. This work of recovery will continue for years and many will labor, from near and far, neighbors and friends, strangers and immigrants. What takes years to build can be torn down in moments by the destructive power of nature, or the evil intent of people. Night came and morning followed and thus we rebuild, because there is a higher power, and faith, hope and love will prevail. To sense this as we go about the endless tasks before us in our homes, schools and work places is a gift that motivates us, especially on those days when we would rather stay in bed.
On the day I write this, the 20th anniversary of the death of Mother Teresa, we are reminded of the goodness, beauty and truth of her life, and the fundamental outlook of her faithful spirit i.e., “to make of one’s life something beautiful for God.”
Her enduring legacy embodies the wisdom found in the Gospel of John “the first work is to have faith in the one God sent, reminding us as disciples that the work of creation finds its fulfillment in God’s plan of salvation in Jesus Christ.
The gift of faith, the size of a mustard seed, can indeed move mountains. (Luke 17,6) Consider the dawn of Mother Teresa’s altered mid-life journey of faith dedicated to the destitute and abandoned. She passed on the torch of educating the young and privileged of India’s middle and upper class and walked into Calcutta’s hell where many had lost hope and moved mountains. What a mustard seed!
This path of incredible faith, hope and love is not the birthright of a chosen few, but the Lord’s call in each of our lives. “For we are his handiwork, created in Christ Jesus for the good works that God has prepared in advance, that we should live in them.” (Ephesians 2,10) May the Lord the Lord bring about in each of us a wonderful harmony of faith and work so that we can make our lives something beautiful by developing our talents, serving others and giving God the glory.