Saturday, April 24, 2021

58th Day of Prayer for Vocations to the Priesthood and Religious Life

 Pope Francis published his annual message for this 58th World Day of Prayer for Vocations on March 19, 2021, the Feast of St. Joseph, Patron of the Universal Church.  In the message, he noted that Joseph is an extraordinary figure who  is also very close to our own lived experience.  The Holy Father wrote: "(Joseph) did not do astonishing things, he had no unique gifts, nor did he appear special in the eyes of those who met him. He was not famous . . . the Gospels do not report even a single word of his. Still, through his ordinary life, he accomplished something extraordinary in the eyes of God."  He accomplished great things because he was able to give, generate, and protect life in the course of daily routines.   

This is the need of the Church today as it tries to be a beacon of light in a deeply troubled and very troubling world.  And this is the need of our own country, a country that has lost its way--if not its mind--in being more concerned with preventing new life than protecting it.  In hastening the death of the sick elderly than caring for them.

 

The need for vocations to the consecrated vowed life and the diocesan priesthood, is great. The need has always been great  and it always will be. This is the day on which we pray for and, if the opportunity presents, encourage others, to explore the possibility of religious vocation, to take up the task of serving and protecting the most vulnerable, of teaching the unlettered, and bringing hope to the hopeless.

 

One of the most fascinating aspects of a vocation to religious life is the remarkable similarity a vocation has to a religious conversion of an adult who chooses to enter the Church after careful consideration and instruction.

 

Entering religious life requires a radical reorientation in three dimensions one's life:  A reorientation of convictions or beliefs, a reorientation of ways of behaving or conducting oneself, and a reorientation of community affiliation or belonging.  This reorientation is expressed in the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience.

 

The Benedictines and Cistercians pronounce a unique vow that describes this reorientation and, ideally, underlies the reorientation demanded by of all forms of religious life. That vow is Conversatio Morum, the meaning of which is only partially captured by the English translations: conversion of life or, more awkwardly, conversion of manners.  

 

If you want to have fun give a group of Benedictines a few drinks and then ask them to explain conversatio morum. Who knew they could be so argumentative? The difficulty in explaining this vow reflects the complexity of living religious life in any order, congregation, or institute.  Conversatio morum underlies all of our lives.  When you really push it, no religious or priest can fully explain his or her vocation without lapsing into the inarticulate or the incoherent at some point. 

 

Not long before I entered the Society of Jesus almost 24 years ago, a Jesuit friend told me something I did not really understand at the time.  Indeed, I didn't come to a full understanding for at least ten years.  "If you enter and stay in the Society, your reasons for staying will be different than your reasons for entering."  He was correct.  

 

Entering religious life as a novice requires that one be open and willing to make the necessary reorientation of beliefs, behaviors, and belonging. Remaining for life indicates that one has made those reorientations--or adjustments--along with realigning one's expectations for oneself. 

 

A religious vocation is not easy. It doesn't answer all questions or remove all doubts. It is not a life free from stress. It is not a life overflowing with consolations in prayer and contemplation.  There are few mystical raptures.  But it challenges us on a daily basis.

 

Indeed, be it the active life of the Jesuit for whom a passport is a necessity upon entering or the strictly cloistered life of the Carthusian praying in cell, the religious seeks to emulate St. Joseph's strong, courageous, and humble presence in the manner described in Francis' message as one of the 'saints next door' whose witness can guide others on their journeys. 

 

What is needed to encourage a man or woman to explore a vocation to religious life?

 

A religious vocation does not take root in a vacuum. Others are necessary to pray for vocations.  Others are necessary to foster vocations.  Parents and grandparents are needed to encourage vocations early on through teaching children and grandchildren the basics of their faith and how to pray.  A young Chinese diocesan priest-friend attributes his vocation to his grandmother who, though not educated, planted the seeds of his vocation when he was a little boy helping her in the fields. She taught him and his cousins to pray every night.  I would have loved to have met her, she sounds formidable.

 

The lived example of mature religious is crucial as is our willingness to listen to and mentor a young man or woman who is considering the religious life or priesthood.  Most importantly a religious vocation requires that someone, a parent, relative, teacher, friend, or another religious ask.  

 

It requires that someone ask, "Have you ever thought of becoming a . . . " a Jesuit, a Carmelite Sister, a Franciscan brother, a Benedictine nun, a priest. It is not always easy. 

 

The first time I asked a young man if he was thinking about becoming a Jesuit the sensations as I prepared to ask brought back memories of asking my date to the junior prom in back in 1966.  Sweaty palms.  Dry mouth.  Rapid heart beat.  A vague knot in the gut.  And, I asked while driving on the D.C. Beltway, which is a good way to avoid making eye contact unless one is both suicidal and homicidal.  

 

Yes,  he had considered.  No, no one had ever asked.  He asked if I had a few minutes to talk about it. I did.  Turned into a two and one-half hour conversation. That first conversation continued for several years. The scene was a reenactment of the Friday morning in 1992 when George Murray, SJ, MD asked me the same question as we had coffee after rounds.  Indeed, I used almost identical wording to Murray's. 

 

The young man in question did enter the novitiate. I did not try to hide the tears as he knelt to pronounce his first vows in the Society. God willing, I will attend his ordination when he completes theology studies in three or four years. I may need sedation.

 

Accepting Jesus' call to religious life means no longer independently choosing one's own path but immersing one's will in God's will.  That immersion is accomplished only in the hope and faith that pushes us toward the future and sustains us in the present.  

 

Rooted in the history of the order, congregation, or institute, religious live and act in the present while being pulled and pulling others, toward the future, a future given us by Jesus' saving act.  


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The photos were taken this afternoon on the BC campus.  The tulips are an annual thing.  Weather was spectacular after what had been a truly ugly weather the past few days.  I was surprised that they weren't destroyed by some serious downpours during a thunderstorm the other day.  








+ Fr. Jack, SJ, MD








Saturday, April 10, 2021

What is mercy during covid? A homily for Divine Mercy Sunday

Acts 4:32-35

Ps 118:2-4, 13-15, 22-24

1 Jn 5:1-6


Jn 20:19-31

 

 

Confitemini Domino quoniam bonus,

quoniam in saeculum misericordia eius

 

"Give thanks to the Lord for he is good, 

His mercy endures forever" (Ps 118:1).

 

St. John Paul II began his homily on 30 April 2000,  the Second Sunday of Easter, with the opening and closing words of Psalm 118.  They are words that encourage us to rejoice in God's mercy, a mercy that is never withheld, despite our unfaithfulness.   During that Mass the Holy Father both canonized St. Faustina Kowalska, the Polish visionary and religious sister who wrote of Christ's Divine Mercy in her diary. He also declared that from that day on the Second Sunday of Easter would be known as Divine Mercy Sunday. 

 

The familiar image of Divine Mercy depicts Jesus clothed in white with His right hand raised in blessing and His left touching his chest.  Rays of red and white emanate from beneath His hand.  The rays recall the blood and water that flowed from Jesus' side when he was pierced by the soldier's lance. They represent the Divine Mercy poured out upon the world through baptism and the Eucharist.  Below the image is the signature: "Jesus I trust in You." 

 

When considering today's gospel many like to slag Thomas, or Doubting Thomas as he is colloquially known.  But doing so misses a much deeper meaning. The narrative of Thomas is not about doubt. It is about faith, faith that, like ours, was tested.   Thomas's faith emerged victorious from that test.  Faith is not the opposite of doubt.  Faith's opposite is indifference.  Faith and doubt are sides of the same coin. One cannot exist without the other.  Faith must always contend with periods of doubt throughout life. Faith does not mature or come to fullness without periodic struggles with doubt, struggles during which we wonder about deeper meaning.

 

The faith of many has been tested throughout this ghastly year during which covid forced many to be away from the Mass. It was a year of bureaucratic cruelty during which absurd, unthinking,  merciless, and morally wrong regulations in hospitals and care homes forced many to die alone and terrified, without the comforting presence  of a family member or friend at the bedside. The sad reality is that computer images via zoom and cell phones don't cut it when one is dying, especially during the frequently associated delirium that precedes it.

 

The papers screeched:  ALL HEALTH CARE WORKERS ARE HEROES. That is an arguable proposition at best.  Despite being staffed and administered by so called heroes,  hospitals and homes denied a husband, or wife, or child, attired similarly to your average nursing assistant, the opportunity to attend to a dying loved one, to offer a sip of water every few minutes,  to be present when the patient woke, and to perhaps ease the delirium. 

 

Institutions chose a cruel one-size-fits-all approach created by faceless and merciless bureaucrats who made sure they took care of their own first.  Pennsylvania's former secretary of health moved his (sic) mother out of her assisted living into a hotel before issuing an edict that all facilities had to accept covid transfers from hospitals.  

  

One weeps for those who will never recover from their guilt over being forced to abandon a dying parent, husband, wife, or child because of government and administrative fiat.  Many were, and still are, forced to die without the benefit of the sacraments because in Massachusetts, priests who serve nursing homes are considered vendors, classed with beauticians and barbers, and thus barred from anointing the dying, hearing their confessions, and absolving them of their sins during their last hours.  This is the antithesis of mercy and approaches the immoral.

 

Our trust in those elected to govern has been tested.  It may have been completely destroyed.  A weeping physician proclaiming pending doom on national TV is not an image in which one can have confidence. 

 

What of faith in God? 

 

Thomas, who was not present when Jesus first appeared after his Resurrection,  can be a model for us today.  Thomas' love for Jesus did not die on the cross, just as ours should not die because of government fiat. Thomas continued to love Jesus with the same kind of love we hold for a dead parent or friend, a love that may keep us off-balance for a long time. In his sorrow he found it difficult  to believe the message of the other apostles that they had seen Him.  His faith was tested.  And then we hear his faith-filled gasp when Jesus appeared:  “My Lord and my God!”

 

In his Letter to the Romans Paul reminds us that,  “Faith comes from what is heard and what is heard comes by the preaching of Jesus Christ.”  That preaching of Jesus Christ does not come to us exclusively in oral form as it did at the Sermon on the Mount or in Jesus' many parables to His disciples.  Jesus' preaching comes to us in scripture, in the tradition of the Church, and, most especially, in the reception of the Eucharist.  Over the coming weeks we will hear of the beginnings of the Church.  Those early communities had the task of defining what it means to be a follower of Jesus Christ. 

 

In today's reading from Acts we hear of communal mercy that fulfilled the needs of those who otherwise would have gone without. That mercy is a reflection of the Divine Mercy bestowed on us today.  We will hear more in the coming weeks. 

 

At the end of their encounter, Jesus asked Thomas a question and bestowed a blessing, “Have you believed because you have seen me?  Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.”  We too must answer that question. 

 

The last sentence of this pericope puts the Gospels into perspective:  “Now, Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples that are not written in this book.  But these are written that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that through this belief you may have life in His name.” 

 

The gospels are not albums of verbal snapshots from Jesus' life.  They are not log books tracing Jesus' daily movements. There is no Captain Kirk-like "Star Date."  The gospels are not diaries of Jesus’ day-to-day thoughts and movements. They  are not history in the modern understanding of the word.   We can never interpret the gospels solely through the lenses of journalism, anthropology, or science without frustration and the risk of faithlessness.  

 

 

The Gospels proclaims one essential truth, that Jesus of Nazareth, of whom it speaks, is the Lord.  Thus, the fullness of Easter joy is contained in Thomas’ faith-filled, startled, and ultimately joyous proclamation.  That is why we too can gaze upon the True Body and Blood of Christ, from which flows the Divine Mercy, and say with Thomas and all the Church, “My Lord and My God.”  

 

Confitemini Domino quoniam bonus,

quoniam in saeculum misericordia eius

 

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia

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The photos below are from Divine Mercy Sunday 2017 when I was living with the Jesuit community in Ljubljana.  The church was full.  The men asked if I could take some shots.  In the end I walked over 2.5 miles during the two plus hour liturgy.















 + Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday, April 4, 2021

Easter

 Acts 10:34a, 37-43

Ps 118: 1-2, 16-17, 22-23

Col 3:1-4

Jn 20:1-9

 

 

“This is the day the Lord has made; 

let us rejoice and be glad.” 

 

These joyful words have been circling the globe for hours. First in Australia, then Taiwan and the Churches of Mainland China.  After passing through Asia and Russia they were proclaimed in Poland, Slovenia and England while the East Coast of the United States was barely waking up. An then they swept across North and South America in churches, monasteries, and convents as the celebration completed its global orbit.  

 

The words from the psalm were repeated in: Mandarin, Fujianese, Swahili, Tagalog, Slovenian, Croatian, Portuguese, French, English, and every other tongue in the known world, as the news of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead is proclaimed yet again. 

 

The first reading from the Acts of the Apostles summarized Jesus’ life from His baptism to His death on the cross.  We heard the commission to the apostles to preach the message of salvation.  It is the same commission we received: Preach the message of salvation through Jesus!  Proclaim the Gospel of the Lord. 

 

That message is the reason we are to rejoice and be glad.  Jesus is the one set apart, a root meaning of the word holy. Those who believe in him have  forgiveness of sins through His name. 

 

As St. Paul so memorably wrote to the Romans:  “God showed his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us.”  While we were yet sinners Christ died for us.  Jesus, fully Divine and fully human, Son of God and Son of Mary, like us in all things but sin, died for our sins, because of our sins, and to save us from those sins.  We are sinners.  But, we are sinners passionately loved by God.  We are redeemed by Jesus’ passion and death in a redemption made manifest in His resurrection from the dead.  What more can we say than “This is the day the Lord has made; 

let us rejoice and be glad.” 

 

In the proclamation of John’s Gospel we heard of the disciple’s astonishment, confusion, sorrow, and fear upon discovering that the tomb, in which Jesus had been placed, was empty. The burial cloths were rolled up and lying off to the side.  The last line of this Gospel reading is instructive:  “Remember, as yet they did not understand the Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead.”  They did not yet understand.  Despite the years that they had followed Him the disciples did not really understand who this Jesus was.  But that was going to change at Pentecost when the Holy Spirit descended.

 

The apostle’s confusion and lack of understanding of Jesus mirrors our situation.  Despite Jesus’ action in our lives, we don’t always understand.  Unlike the apostles who lived the events told here in real time we have scripture and the tradition of the Church to instruct us and help us understand.  Still, we don’t always get it.  We sometimes fail to understand how great a gift Jesus is to us. We sometimes fail to appreciate the gift he gave us.  We sometimes reject that gift outright. Thus, it is today, and every day, we are called to pray, to meditate on scripture and to receive the Sacred Body and Blood of Christ so that unlike the apostles, we will understand, we will see, and, through understanding and seeing,  we will believe. 

 

The words repeated while inscribing the paschal candle  are a very short catechism.  

 

“Christ yesterday and today

the beginning and the end. 

Alpha and Omega; 

all time belongs to him, 

and all the ages; 

to him be glory and power, 

through every age for ever.” 

 

“This is the day the Lord has made, 

let us rejoice and be glad.” 

 

 

Alleluia

Alleluia

Alleluia. 


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An extraordinary night.  Over the past eight months I've been instructing a physician colleague to prepare him for baptism, confirmation, and communion in the Church.  It was quite a journey in which he pushed me.  I joked after Mass that he cost me at least $100 in books.  Four were baptized at St. Ignatius last night.  I had the joy of baptizing Tony.  Was going to post this homily last night but didn't have the energy to hold the computer let alone do anything with it.  


One of my favorite still-life shots taken in a tiny sacristy in a cloistered monastery.  I knew this was going to be black and white the moment the camera arrived in front of my eye.  


The small private chapel in which I celebrate Mass when visiting there.  I had just set up for Mass but had not yet started.  I will drive to the monastery in eight days to spend the week catching up with work. 

Have a most Blessed Easter.  


+ Fr. Jack, SJ, MD