Mersey Leven Catholic Parish
Parish Priest: Fr Mike Delaney
Mob: 0417 279 437
mike.delaney@aohtas.org.au
Assistant Priest: Fr Paschal Okpon
Mob: 0438 562 731
paschalokpon@yahoo.com
Priest in Residence: Fr Phil McCormack
Mob: 0437 521 257
pmccormack43@bigpond.com
Deacon in Residence: Rev Steven Smith
Mob: 0411 522 630
steven.smith@aohtas.org.au
Postal Address: PO Box 362, Devonport 7310
Parish Office: 90 Stewart Street, Devonport 7310
(Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday 10am - 3pm)
Office Phone: 6424 2783 Fax: 6423 5160
Email: merseyleven@aohtas.org.au
Secretary: Annie Davies
Finance Officer: Anne Fisher
Pastoral Council Chair: Felicity Sly
Mob: 0418 301 573
fsly@internode.on.net
Mob: 0417 279 437
mike.delaney@aohtas.org.au
Assistant Priest: Fr Paschal Okpon
Mob: 0438 562 731
paschalokpon@yahoo.com
Priest in Residence: Fr Phil McCormack
Mob: 0437 521 257
pmccormack43@bigpond.com
Deacon in Residence: Rev Steven Smith
Mob: 0411 522 630
steven.smith@aohtas.org.au
Postal Address: PO Box 362, Devonport 7310
Parish Office: 90 Stewart Street, Devonport 7310
(Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday 10am - 3pm)
Office Phone: 6424 2783 Fax: 6423 5160
Email: merseyleven@aohtas.org.au
Secretary: Annie Davies
Finance Officer: Anne Fisher
Pastoral Council Chair: Felicity Sly
Mob: 0418 301 573
fsly@internode.on.net
Parish Mass times for the Month: mlcpmasstimes.blogspot.com.au
Weekly Homily Podcast: mikedelaney.podomatic.com
Archdiocesan Website: www.hobart.catholic.org.au for news, information and details of other Parishes.
PLENARY COUNCIL PRAYER
Come, Holy Spirit of Pentecost.
Come, Holy Spirit of the great South Land.
O God, bless and unite all your people in Australia
and guide us on the pilgrim way of the Plenary Council.
Give us the grace to see your face in one another
and to recognise Jesus, our companion on the road.
Give us the courage to tell our stories and to speak boldly of your truth.
Give us ears to listen humbly to each other
and a discerning heart to hear what you are saying.
Lead your Church into a hope-filled future,
that we may live the joy of the Gospel.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord, bread for the journey from age to age.
Amen.
Our Lady Help of Christians, pray for us.
St Mary MacKillop, pray for us.
Come, Holy Spirit of the great South Land.
O God, bless and unite all your people in Australia
and guide us on the pilgrim way of the Plenary Council.
Give us the grace to see your face in one another
and to recognise Jesus, our companion on the road.
Give us the courage to tell our stories and to speak boldly of your truth.
Give us ears to listen humbly to each other
and a discerning heart to hear what you are saying.
Lead your Church into a hope-filled future,
that we may live the joy of the Gospel.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord, bread for the journey from age to age.
Amen.
Our Lady Help of Christians, pray for us.
St Mary MacKillop, pray for us.
Parish Prayer
Heavenly Father,
and calling us to serve as your disciples.
as we use our gifts to serve you.
as we strive to bear witness
to the Gospel and build an amazing parish.
Amen.
Our Parish Sacramental Life
THE FOLLOWING PUBLIC ACTIVITIES ARE SUSPENDED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
Eucharistic Adoration Devonport, Benediction with Adoration Devonport, Legion of Mary, Prayer Group.
NO PUBLIC MASSES UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE DUE TO THE COVID-19 (CORONAVIRUS) PANDEMIC
MINISTRY ROSTERS ARE SUSPENDED
UNTIL FURTHER
NOTICE
Your prayers
are asked for the sick:
Tony Kiely, Sand Frankcombe,
Judith Xavier, Pat Barker, Paul Richardson, & …
Let us pray for those who have died recently:
Graham Taylor, Lorna Watson, Bill Scott, John McDermott, Elizabeth Heckscher, Charles Johnson, Edward King, Bill Halley, Rosalie McCarthy, Annette Camaya, Samuel Lint, Eileen Ryan
Let us pray for those whose
anniversary occurs about this time: 1st – 7th April, 2020
May the souls of the faithful departed,
through the mercy of
God, rest in peace.
Amen
PROJECT COMPASSION – Palm Sunday:
Weekly Ramblings
Thanks to all those people who
have contacted us with their emails – and apologies that our newsletter email
last weekend wasn’t sent ‘bcc’. As I mentioned on Tuesday we will try not to
overload you with emails – sending them on Tuesdays & Thursdays – but we
hope to be able to include as much information with those emails as possible.
We are currently working on a
Parish Website and hope to have news shortly about that as well as looking at
other forms of communication including mail outs with the newsletter for those
who don’t have access to the internet or who feel uncomfortable using that
format.
Thanks also to those who have
taken the option of giving online (as well as those who have dropped their
envelopes into the Parish House) – as you might have guessed we have taken a
massive hit with our weekly parish income so your continued support is greatly
appreciated. The details for online giving are: Bank Commonwealth; Account
Name: Mersey Leven; BSB: 067 000; Acc No: 1031 5724. In the Description area
simply add your Name or Envelope Number. Thank You
Received an email from Fr Paschal
telling me that he and his family are well and that their State in Nigeria has
only a few cases of Covid-19 infections but they are also in lockdown but still
allowed to gather for Mass (under 100 people). He wishes to extend his prayers
and best wishes to everyone.
We enter Holy Week with a very
different approach this year. Details of our Celebrations are on the front of
the newsletter – please note the times. We will be recording the celebrations
and uploading them to YouTube later on those days – if you look for them on
YouTube type ‘Mike Delaney – Mass’ into the search bar and after you get past
the two bodybuilders you should find me!!
I add the following for your
reflection. When People look at how they use their income the normal process
is: Spend, Save & Give. As we seek to survive the current crisis could I
suggest we might consider: Give, Save & Spend! You might be surprised what
a difference it makes when we start by being givers before thinking about self-first!
I would like to encourage you to
continue to support the work of Caritas/Project Compassion by making your
Project Compassion offering online. Bank: Commonwealth Bank, Account
Name: Caritas Australia BSB: 062438
Account Number: 10038330 as your reference please put Agent Number 187907 then your
surname.
We are unable to provide
receipts, Caritas will need to be contacted directly.
Take care and look after each other, 
FOOTY MARGIN FUNDRAISER:
Readings This Week: Palm Sunday – Year A
PREGO
REFLECTION ON TODAY'S GOSPEL:
Readings Next Week: Easter Sunday (Day) – Year A
Letter From Rome
The Mass Has Ended ... But The Clerical Abuse Continue
The coronavirus-induced quarantine should force the Church to do some serious soul-searching about the Eucharist by Robert Mickens, Rome, April 3, 2020.
This article is from the La-Croix International website - you can access the site here but complete full access is via paid subscription
The whole world is now infected. The coronavirus continues to circle the globe, bringing the usual rhythms of life and commerce to an almost total standstill.
The pandemic caught most countries and their people completely off-guard and unprepared. And many are already saying that this global crisis will force all of us to radically re-think many things about the way we live, organize our society, conduct our business, relate to one another…
They say things will never be the same as before. We will have to change.
That includes our Churches, too. Our faith communities were caught blind-sided just as much as any others.
And most religious leaders – especially our Catholic priests and bishops – have been flat-footed in the way they have responded to what soon became the liturgical lockdown.
The idea of "virtual participation" needs to be seriously re-thought
They really have had no idea what to do, except to continue celebrating Mass all by themselves and then broadcast it on television, or live-stream it on the internet, for the rest of the Church to merely watch.
Because that's what this is – something to watch. And while that's not necessarily all bad, it certainly is not participating in any essential way in the celebration of the Eucharist.
Despite many decades of the televised or radio broadcast Mass for Shut-ins, the last several weeks of cancelled public liturgies should make it abundantly clear that this type of "virtual participation" needs to be re-thought.
You can't have a virtual Mass any more than you can have a virtual Thanksgiving Dinner. The latter would be extremely weird and even absurd, just as the former is proving to be for many Catholics during these days of liturgical lockdown.
Think about it. What if mom and dad were home alone, but wanted to prepare the huge Thanksgiving feast and share it, over TV or live-streaming, with the rest of the family?
From absurd to cruel
To make the analogy work, let's say that the kids and relatives who are joining this virtual feast have no possibility of preparing their own meal. They can only watch as mom and dad perform the holiday ritual. And then they watch their parents eat, while they have nothing.
And to further strengthen the analogy, the parents would strongly urge – if not demand – their children to play along with this charade.
This would not only be absurd. It would be cruel.
True and loving parents would not put their children through such a thing. But even if they dared, only those children who have grown up being abused would put up with such depravity.
Good parents do not deprive their children. If their kids can't eat, neither will they.
Only those who eat can be nourished
Obviously, the analogy is not exact because we are not talking about any normal meal when we are talking about the Eucharist. It is a sacrificial meal; a meal/sacrifice commemorated around an altar/table.
The meal aspect of the Eucharistic celebration cannot be separated from its sacrificial aspect. But it must not be minimalized to the point of almost being completely eliminated, as it is for more than 99% of the Church's members during these virtual Masses.
Only those who eat can be nourished. This is how the Church has always understood the words of Jesus, "Take this all of you and eat of it."
Even when frequent communion was not practiced, the Fourth Lateran Council (1215) established what came to be known as the "Easter duty", obliging Catholics to confess their sins to a priest at least once a year and receive the Eucharist during the Easter Season.
This liturgical season continues until May 31st this year. And, hopefully, by then Catholics in most places will have been able to begin worshipping together again.
But in the meantime, is virtual Mass really necessary or helpful?
Eucharist theology that's inadequate and schizophrenic
The liturgical lockdown has shown us that the Church is more fully cleric-centered than most of us would like to admit. It has also revealed inadequacies and even a type of schizophrenia in our theology about the Eucharist.
It is caught somewhere between a post-Trinitine legalistic/mechanical view of the sacraments and a post-Vatican II understanding/recovery of baptism as the prime sacrament that makes one a member of, not just the Church, but also a member of the common priesthood.
Those who are ordained to Holy Orders are more properly called presbyters. The have been ordained to organize and lead the community's worship. But the priestly character is shared by the entire community of the baptized and is present in the worshipping assembly.
Our theologians and pastors must discern more attentively and reflect more deeply on this reality. This will certainly lead to wider, though perhaps more subtle ramifications for how we understand and celebrate the Eucharist.
"Extraneous props at a clerical drama"
It was astonishing to read a document that the bishops from the Italian region of Umbria published on March 31 to justify priests celebrating Mass alone without the presence of anyone else.
"The assembly participates in the celebration but is not a constitutive part of the sacramental action, as is the ordained minister, presbyter or bishop," the bishops wrote.
"This is clearly not what the People of God need to hear – that they are extraneous props at a clerical drama," commented a friend, who happens to be a presbyter.
It's not clear who wrote the bishops' document, but the author states some even more disturbing things that underline the Church's theological (and ecclesiological) schizophrenia surrounding the Eucharist.
No matter, the men who lead the 13 dioceses located in Umbria are ultimately responsible for the content.
A cardinal and two former top Vatican officials
And it is alarming that one of them is the president of the Italian Episcopal Conference (Cardinal Gualtiero Bassetti), while another is a former secretary of the Congregation for Divine Worship and Discipline of the Sacraments (Archbishop Domenico Sorrentino).
The person who actually signed and published the text is the regional conference's president, Archbishop Renato Boccardo.
He's a career papal diplomat and longtime Vatican official who rose to become the second-in-command of Vatican City State. He also worked in the papal liturgical ceremonies office for a number of years.
Boccardo wrote to the priests of his own diocese ten days earlier, expressing similar sentiments found in the regional document.
"I urge you not to neglect the daily offering 'pro populo' of the sacrifice of Christ," he wrote.
No need for people. The priest is offering the sacrifice on their behalf. And he's partaking of the meal all by himself, as well…
"Maybe that will come later"
Catholics will have to decide on their own how they will pray and participate in the sacred mysteries of this Holy Week and Easter. There are not many priests or bishops who will be of any great help, except to do the old Mass for Shut-ins routine.
Perhaps we can take a lesson from Edith Stein, the Jewish convert who became a Carmelite nun and was killed during the Shoah.
She knew what it meant to go without the Eucharist.
On August 4, 1942 she wrote these words from a Nazi transit camp in the Netherlands, just five days before she was killed in a gas chamber at Auschwitz:
"We are very calm and cheerful. Of course, so far there has been no Mass and communion; maybe that will come later. Now we have a chance to experience a little how to live purely from within."
Pope Francis, An Usual Urbi et Orbi and Liturgy in the Time of Pandemic
When the
public, liturgical activity of the Church is reduced to a minimum, we must
carefully discern the discreet signs of the Spirit in our daily lives, says
Massimo Faggioli (Published on 31st March, 2020)
This article is from the La-Croix International website - you can access the site here but complete full access is via paid subscription
The
coronavirus pandemic is pushing all of us to relativize and prioritize. This is
also true for the Catholic Church, or at least it should.
The forced
cessation of the Church's public activities – in some countries, it will last
well beyond Easter – brings up the importance of the theological concept of
"Christianity as style".
Christoph
Theobald, a French-German Jesuit, has been developing this idea over the last
few years. He published his latest thoughts on it in a long essay that appeared
in the Italian Catholic monthly Il Regno, well before the coronavirus
emergency.
'The saints
next door'
Christianity
as style during the current pandemic, means rediscovering an elementary, basic
faith that does not depend on external constructs. This is a key to understanding
the importance of Pope Francis' pontificate at this tragic moment for the world
and the Church.
The Jesuit
pope's emphasis on discernment as an engine of interior mobility is even richer
now when external mobility is not possible. Theobald mentions his exhortation
on holiness, Gaudete et Exsultate, which evokes the image of "the saints
next door".
"Very
often it is a holiness found in our next-door neighbours, those who, living in
our midst, reflect God's presence," Francis writes in that 2018 text.
This could
be a true catechesis for millions of people now be stuck at home for a number
of weeks, forced to coexist with their neighbours like never before.
Christianity is an event of encounter with the divine, but also with others.
A time to
ponder the 'last things'
This time of
forced social distancing will likely help us rediscover the theological value
of encountering Christ through our encounters with others. It is a reversal of
French existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre's famous dictum: "Hell is other
people".
Eschatology,
or the "doctrine of the last things", has always been very powerful
in giving the right dimension to oversized ideas and institutions.
And this
kind of emergency exerts an enormous pressure on all of us to ponder the last
things. It also reveals the stuff certain churchmen and ecclesiastical
institutions are made of.
Two styles
of Church
"Style
is the man" – the proverbial saying that one's chosen style reflects one's
essential characteristics – can also be applied to Church leadership. The
coronavirus emergency is showing us that there are two ways of expressing the
style of the Church.
On the one
hand, there's the approach of the Pontifical Academies of Sciences and of
Social Sciences. In a statement on March 20 they offered "lessons for
future actions and changing priorities" in the wake of the virus' spread.
"We
note with great appreciation the tremendous services currently provided by
health workers and medical professionals, including virologists and
others," the academies say in the opening lines of their statement.
Not of the
sacristy, but of humanity
In a similar
way, the Holy See's daily paper, L'Osservatore Romano, offered a similar
approach espoused by Francis by publishing two articles in its March 29 issue
on liturgy and the "domestic church".
One of the
articles suggested the possibilities of this moment.
"The
domestic memorial contains a peculiar secular dimension. It does not smell of
sacristy. On the contrary, it touches the foundations of our humanity," it
said.
But there
has been also another style on display, and particularly because of the
liturgical emergency we all are experiencing.
Looking
backwards, issuing prohibitions
Uncomfortable
as I am with the idea of Easter Masses celebrated without the people, I am not
sure it would be a good idea to postpone Easter. But I am sure there that the
Roman Curia should have a better way to convey this to the Catholic faithful.
It was
unseemly that the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF) should
choose to publish decrees on the extraordinary form of the Roman Rite on March
25, in the middle of the pandemic.
But, at the
same time, it indicated the contradiction between Francis and the liturgical
agenda of the pre-existing Vatican establishment.
Then there
was the style of the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the
Sacraments (CDWDS), which was strictly in terms of prohibitions and limits.
It reminded
me of when China's State Administration for Religious Affairs decreed in 2007
that all the reincarnations of tulkus of Tibetan Buddhism must get government
approval; otherwise they are "illegal or invalid". Involuntary humour,
but truly Kafkaesque.
The pope
alone
This is
important in order to understand Pope Francis' incredibly moving prayer on
March 27 in an empty St. Peter's Square. There was the pope, alone; but also in
the company of the faith and his people.
The style of
that intense Urbi et Orbi was also – indirectly, but not so subtle – an
indictment of other styles of leadership, included within the Church and the
Vatican.
There was
not only a mastery of the aesthetics of this spiritual moment, but there was
also a significantly different theological reading of the pandemic.
The pope
shunned any moralistic interpretations of the disease, a recurring temptation
in our civilization, as Susan Sontag wrote in her 1978 book, Illness as
Metaphor.
In the style
of Francis there was the whole message, and it is the style of the Second
Vatican Council (1962-65): the "noble simplicity" that is stressed in
the Vatican II constitution on the liturgy.
The medium
is the message
The Jesuit
historian John O'Malley wrote in his 2008 book What Happened at Vatican II that
the council's "style of discourse was the medium that conveyed the
message", and that "the style is thus values-expressive".
And as
Theobald pointed out, the blind spots of the theology of Vatican II (celebrated
almost sixty years ago) can be filled with the insights coming from the style
of Vatican II.
Francis'
embrace of the whole world would be unthinkable without the council's theology
of the Church in the modern world, where the institutional loneliness of the
pope within the Church and the distinctiveness of Catholic ecclesiology are
understood in a fundamental solidarity with the one human family.
A Church of
paradoxes
Catholicism
is full of paradoxes. The pope alone in St. Peter's Square, praying in front of
a basilica that was built, in part, with the dirty money of indulgences; and
yet here he is offering an indulgence to the people through his Urbi et Orbi
blessing.
As I wrote
to my students, it's the same Church of the sex abuse crisis that we are
studying in our course. Francis is evidently aware of the contradictions and
paradoxes, as we have seen in the last seven years.
It is
particularly evident in his way of not letting the Roman Curia define his
ministry. And we shall see what sort of impact the pandemic and the recession
will have on his plans to reform the Curia.
The contrast
between Francis and the ecclesiastical status quo is not just a paradox. It is
also a real and problematic contradiction.
For one
thing, it strongly contradicts the ongoing pandemic-induced revanche of
liturgical traditionalism, with phenomena of clerical solipsism sometimes
accompanied by the re-emergence of semi-magical rituals for local media
consumption.
Solidarity,
not triumphalism or exclusivism
It is true
that it is easier for the pope than for the bishops and priests who have to
keep their local churches afloat, both spiritually and financially. Francis has
at its disposal the formidable apparatus and scenery of the Vatican to convey
the message of communion in the Church and with the world.
But his
style is also a message to the institutional Church to overcome the temptation
of using this moment as an opportunity to go back to a theology and a liturgy
shaped by triumphalism and exclusivism, instead of solidarity.
Understanding
the importance of style as a Church also means, in this particular moment, the
capability of sustaining ourselves spiritually without the usual institutional
supports.
At the very
least, we should not be burdened with additional mortifications.
This can be
a disaster or it can be an opportunity for the Church to rethink its pastoral
and missionary activity. The Gospel is an ecclesial presence – in the sense of
being relational – and this moment can help rebuild the credibility of the
Church.
When the public,
liturgical activity of the Church is reduced to a minimum (or to nothing), we
must carefully discern and detect the discreet signs of the Spirit in our daily
lives in lockdown.
It's more a
matter of dos than of don'ts.
A Quiet Refusal
This article is taken from the Daily Email sent by Fr Richard Rohr OFM from the Center for Action and Contemplation. You can subscribe to receive the email by clicking here
Because Jesus did not directly attack the religious and
institutional systems of his time until his final action against the money
changers in the temple [1], his primary social justice critique and action are
a disappointment to most radicals and social activists. Jesus’ social program,
as far as I can see, was a quiet refusal to participate in almost all external
power structures or domination systems. Once we have been told this, we see it
everywhere in the four Gospels. Jesus chose a very simple lifestyle which kept
him from being constantly co-opted by those very structures, which we can call
the sin system. (Note that the word “sin” is often used to describe individual
wrongdoing, but I’m using it in a much more corporate way, as I believe Jesus
and Paul did.)
Here are a few examples:
The city of Sepphoris was the Roman regional capital of
Galilee and the center for most money, jobs, and power in the region where
Jesus lived. It was just nine miles from Jesus’ hometown of Nazareth. Yet there
is no record that Jesus ever went there, nor is it mentioned once in the New
Testament, even though he and his father, Joseph, were carpenters or “workmen”
and Jesus traveled through many other cities much farther away. He also seems
to have avoided the money system as much as possible by using “a common purse”
(John 12:6, 13:29)—voluntary “communism,” we might say. Go ahead and hate me!
Jesus healed the poor woman whose doctors made her spend all
she had “while she only grew worse” (Mark 5:26). His three-year ministry was,
in effect, offering free healing and healthcare for any who wanted it (Jew and
non-Jew, worthy and unworthy). He consistently treated women with a dignity and
equality that was almost unknown in a patriarchal culture. He never married,
which could be interpreted as a critique of the idealized family consisting of
father, mother, and children (which became the justification for both Catholic
priests’ celibacy and the vocation of single life). He clearly respected
eunuchs, which would have been the generic term for nonbinary or trans- genders
(see Matthew 19:12), probably inspired by the universalism of Isaiah 56:4-5.
Then, at the end of his life, he surrendered to the punitive systems of both
empire and religion by letting them judge, torture, and murder him. Jesus was
finally a full victim of the systems that he refused to worship. Is this not a
much more coherent explanation of why Jesus died?
What can we learn from Jesus’ life about how we might
address the systems of inequity and oppression in our own cultures? One lesson
seems to me that we have to “start local.” Jesus doesn’t begin in Jerusalem or
head off to Rome to take on empire. Rather he starts in his own hometown, among
his own people, helping those who are hurting and naming those who are
responsible without a hint of self-righteousness. He simply goes around doing
what he knows to be right, which he surely discovered during his long periods
of solitude and silence (a form of contemplation) on the outskirts of town, and
others begin to join him.
Prayer for
Our Community:
The Dispelling Of An Illusion
This article is taken from the archive of Fr Ron Rolheiser OMI. You can find this article and many others by clicking here
We don’t much like the word disillusionment. Normally we think of it as a negative, something pejorative, and not as something that does us a favor. And yet disillusionment is a positive, it means the dispelling of an illusion and illusions, unless we need one as a temporary tonic, are not good for us. They keep us from the truth, from reality.
There are many, many negatives to the current coronavirus that’s wreaking a deadly havoc across the planet. But there’s one positive: Against every form of resistance we can muster, it’s dispelling the illusion that we are in control of our lives and that, by our own efforts, we can make ourselves invulnerable. That lesson has come upon us uninvited. This unforeseen and unwelcome virus is teaching us that, no matter our sophistication, intelligence, wealth, health, or status, we’re all vulnerable, we’re all at the mercy of a thousand contingencies over which we have little control. No amount of denial will change that.
Granted, at one level of our consciousness we’re always aware of our vulnerability. But sometimes after we have walked a dangerous ledge for a long time we forget the peril and are no longer aware of the narrowness of the plank upon which we’re walking. Then too our sense of our vulnerability to a hundred million dangers is, like our sense of mortality, normally pretty abstract and not very real. We all know that like everyone else we are going to die one day; but normally this doesn’t weigh very heavily on our consciousness. We live instead with the sense that we’re not going to die just yet. Our own deaths aren’t really real to us. They are not yet an imminent threat but only a distant, abstract reality.
Generally, such too is the vagueness of our sense of vulnerability. Yes, we know abstractly that we are vulnerable, but generally we feel pretty secure. But as this virus spreads, consumes our newscasts, and brings our normal lives to a halt, our sense of vulnerability is no longer a vague, abstract threat. We’re now much more aware that we all live at the mercies of a million contingencies, most over which we have little control.
However, to our defense, our innate sense that we’re in control and can safeguard our own safety and security should not be too-hastily and too-harshly judged. We can’t help it. It’s the way we’re built. We’re instinctually geared to hate our weaknesses, our vulnerability, our limitations, and our awareness of our own poverty and are instinctually geared to want to feel secure, in control, independent, invulnerable, and self-sufficient. That’s a mercy of grace and nature because it helps save us from despondency and helps us to live with a (needed) healthy pride. But it’s also an illusion; perhaps one that we need for long periods in our lives but also one that in moments of clarity and lucidity we’re meant dispel so as to acknowledge before God and to ourselves that we’re interdependent, not self-sufficient, and not ultimately in control. Whatever else about this virus, it’s bringing us a moment of clarity and lucidity, even if this is far from welcome.
We were given the same lesson, in effect, with the downing of the Twin Towers in New York City on September 11th, 2001. In witnessing this single tragic incident we went from feeling safe and invulnerable to knowing that we are not able, despite everything we have achieved, to ensure our own safety and safety of our loved ones. A lot of people relearned the meaning of prayer that day. A lot of us are relearning the meaning of prayer as we sit quarantined at home during this coronavirus.
Richard Rohr suggests that the passage from childhood to adulthood requires an initiation into a number of necessary life-truths. One of these can be summarized this way: You are not in Control! If that is true, and it is, then this coronavirus is helping initiate us all into a more mature adulthood. We are becoming more conscious of an important truth. However, we may not see any divine intent in this. Every fundamentalist voice that suggests that God sent this virus to each of us a lesson is dangerously wrong and is an insult to true faith. Still we need to hear God’s voice inside of it. God is speaking all the time but mostly we aren’t listening; this sort of thing helps serve as God’s microphone to a deaf world.
Illusions aren’t easy to dispel, and for good reasons. We cling to them by instinct and we generally need them to get through life. For this reason, Socrates, in his wisdom, once wrote that “there is nothing that requires as gentle a treatment as the removal of an illusion”. Anything other than gentleness only makes us more resistant.
This coronavirus is anything but gentle. But inside all of its harshness perhaps we might feel a gentle nudge that we help us dispel the illusion that we are in control.
and calling us to serve as your disciples.
as we use our gifts to serve you.
as we strive to bear witness
Amen.
Our Parish Sacramental Life
Baptism: Arrangements are made by contacting Parish Office. Parents attend a Baptismal Preparation Session organised with a Priest.
Reconciliation, Confirmation and Eucharist: Are received following a Family–centred, Parish-based, School-supported Preparation Program.
Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults: prepares adults for reception into the Catholic community.
Marriage: arrangements are made by contacting one of our priests - couples attend a Pre-marriage Program
Anointing of the Sick: please contact one of our priests
Reconciliation: BY APPOINTMENT ONLY
THE FOLLOWING PUBLIC ACTIVITIES ARE SUSPENDED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
Eucharistic Adoration Devonport, Benediction with Adoration Devonport, Legion of Mary, Prayer Group.
NO PUBLIC MASSES UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE DUE TO THE COVID-19 (CORONAVIRUS) PANDEMIC
FOR LIVESTREAM MASS GO TO https://zoom.us then click join a meeting and when it asks for Webinar ID type in 970 306 715 and click enter. You will be asked to load zoom meeting then enter an email address and you are in!
Sunday 5th April
9:00 am Palm Sunday
Monday 6th April NO MASS
Tuesday 7th April 9:00 am
Wednesday 8th April 9:00 am
Thursday 9th April 7:00 pm Mass of the Lord’s Supper
Friday 10th April 11:00am Stations of the Cross
3:00 pm Passion of
the Lord
Saturday 11th April 7:00 pm Easter Vigil
Sunday 12th April 9:00 am Easter Sunday
MINISTRY ROSTERS ARE SUSPENDED
UNTIL FURTHER
NOTICE
Your prayers
are asked for the sick:
Tony Kiely, Sand Frankcombe,
Judith Xavier, Pat Barker, Paul Richardson, & …
Let us pray for those who have died recently:
Graham Taylor, Lorna Watson, Bill Scott, John McDermott, Elizabeth Heckscher, Charles Johnson, Edward King, Bill Halley, Rosalie McCarthy, Annette Camaya, Samuel Lint, Eileen Ryan
Graham Taylor, Lorna Watson, Bill Scott, John McDermott, Elizabeth Heckscher, Charles Johnson, Edward King, Bill Halley, Rosalie McCarthy, Annette Camaya, Samuel Lint, Eileen Ryan
Let us pray for those whose
anniversary occurs about this time: 1st – 7th April, 2020
Ada
Davey, Jane Dutton, Paul Lowry, Duncan Fox, Daphne Wills, Meridith McCormack,
Annie McCulloch, Lloyd
Goss, George Archer, Fr Joe Howe, Jenny Deegan.
May the souls of the faithful departed,
through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen
PROJECT COMPASSION – Palm Sunday:
Dominic,
47, is a father of six from Papua New Guinea. In 2016, he became involved with Caritas Australia’s
partner, Centre of Hope who runs safe house and family
anonymous programs and turned a difficult life and an unhappy relationship around. Please help by donating through Parish
boxes, envelopes or 1800 024 413 www.caritas.org.au/projectcompassion
Weekly Ramblings
I’m currently listening to a
Podcast titled ‘The Church Podcast’ and they are chatting about whether they
might need to re-title it to ‘The Virtual Church Podcast’. We face a similar
reality as we work towards being Parish in a completely new world.
Thanks to all those people who
have contacted us with their emails – and apologies that our newsletter email
last weekend wasn’t sent ‘bcc’. As I mentioned on Tuesday we will try not to
overload you with emails – sending them on Tuesdays & Thursdays – but we
hope to be able to include as much information with those emails as possible.
We are currently working on a
Parish Website and hope to have news shortly about that as well as looking at
other forms of communication including mail outs with the newsletter for those
who don’t have access to the internet or who feel uncomfortable using that
format.
Thanks also to those who have
taken the option of giving online (as well as those who have dropped their
envelopes into the Parish House) – as you might have guessed we have taken a
massive hit with our weekly parish income so your continued support is greatly
appreciated. The details for online giving are: Bank Commonwealth; Account
Name: Mersey Leven; BSB: 067 000; Acc No: 1031 5724. In the Description area
simply add your Name or Envelope Number. Thank You
Received an email from Fr Paschal
telling me that he and his family are well and that their State in Nigeria has
only a few cases of Covid-19 infections but they are also in lockdown but still
allowed to gather for Mass (under 100 people). He wishes to extend his prayers
and best wishes to everyone.
We enter Holy Week with a very
different approach this year. Details of our Celebrations are on the front of
the newsletter – please note the times. We will be recording the celebrations
and uploading them to YouTube later on those days – if you look for them on
YouTube type ‘Mike Delaney – Mass’ into the search bar and after you get past
the two bodybuilders you should find me!!
I add the following for your
reflection. When People look at how they use their income the normal process
is: Spend, Save & Give. As we seek to survive the current crisis could I
suggest we might consider: Give, Save & Spend! You might be surprised what
a difference it makes when we start by being givers before thinking about self-first!
I would like to encourage you to
continue to support the work of Caritas/Project Compassion by making your
Project Compassion offering online. Bank: Commonwealth Bank, Account
Name: Caritas Australia BSB: 062438
Account Number: 10038330 as your reference please put Agent Number 187907 then your
surname.
We are unable to provide
receipts, Caritas will need to be contacted directly.
Take care and look after each other,
FOOTY MARGIN FUNDRAISER:
Due to the suspension of the AFL Footy Season until 31st May (with a review at that time) Mersey Leven Parish will also suspend footy
margin tickets. If you wish to withdraw from the competition we understand and
will be happy to refund your money, otherwise we will just hang in there to see
what happens!!! An alternative which we will consider post May 31st
(if the season is cancelled) will be to choose a number randomly by a person
who has no interest in the footy margins and it will become a Lucky Number Fundraiser. Any opinions
about this option can be sent to Parish Office.
Readings This Week: Palm Sunday – Year A
Processional Gospel: Matthew 21:1-11
First Reading: Isaiah 50:4-7
Second Reading: Philippians 2:6-11
Gospel: Matthew 26:14-27:66
PREGO
REFLECTION ON TODAY'S GOSPEL:
After coming to some stillness in whatever way is
best for me, I read this Gospel passage slowly, paying attention to my feelings
and thoughts.
I take time to be in the scene in whatever way I
can:
I notice the place, the surroundings, the smells,
sounds and people.
Perhaps I imagine myself in the disciples’ place, or
talk with one of them, or just remain alongside them as the story unfolds.
What do I notice about Jesus? I talk with my Lord
about all that is in my mind and heart. Then perhaps I simply become still,
just being with him, knowing he also suffered isolation and loneliness, and
needed his friends.
I may wish to end by praying Our Father or the Anima
Christi
Readings Next Week: Easter Sunday (Day) – Year A
First Reading: Acts 10:34, 37-43
Second Reading: Colossians 3:1-4
Gospel: Matthew 28:1-10
Letter From Rome
The Mass Has Ended ... But The Clerical Abuse Continue
The Mass Has Ended ... But The Clerical Abuse Continue
The coronavirus-induced quarantine should force the Church to do some serious soul-searching about the Eucharist by Robert Mickens, Rome, April 3, 2020.
This article is from the La-Croix International website - you can access the site here but complete full access is via paid subscription
The pandemic caught most countries and their people completely off-guard and unprepared. And many are already saying that this global crisis will force all of us to radically re-think many things about the way we live, organize our society, conduct our business, relate to one another…
They say things will never be the same as before. We will have to change.
That includes our Churches, too. Our faith communities were caught blind-sided just as much as any others.
And most religious leaders – especially our Catholic priests and bishops – have been flat-footed in the way they have responded to what soon became the liturgical lockdown.
The idea of "virtual participation" needs to be seriously re-thought
They really have had no idea what to do, except to continue celebrating Mass all by themselves and then broadcast it on television, or live-stream it on the internet, for the rest of the Church to merely watch.
Because that's what this is – something to watch. And while that's not necessarily all bad, it certainly is not participating in any essential way in the celebration of the Eucharist.
Despite many decades of the televised or radio broadcast Mass for Shut-ins, the last several weeks of cancelled public liturgies should make it abundantly clear that this type of "virtual participation" needs to be re-thought.
You can't have a virtual Mass any more than you can have a virtual Thanksgiving Dinner. The latter would be extremely weird and even absurd, just as the former is proving to be for many Catholics during these days of liturgical lockdown.
Think about it. What if mom and dad were home alone, but wanted to prepare the huge Thanksgiving feast and share it, over TV or live-streaming, with the rest of the family?
From absurd to cruel
To make the analogy work, let's say that the kids and relatives who are joining this virtual feast have no possibility of preparing their own meal. They can only watch as mom and dad perform the holiday ritual. And then they watch their parents eat, while they have nothing.
And to further strengthen the analogy, the parents would strongly urge – if not demand – their children to play along with this charade.
This would not only be absurd. It would be cruel.
True and loving parents would not put their children through such a thing. But even if they dared, only those children who have grown up being abused would put up with such depravity.
Good parents do not deprive their children. If their kids can't eat, neither will they.
Only those who eat can be nourished
Obviously, the analogy is not exact because we are not talking about any normal meal when we are talking about the Eucharist. It is a sacrificial meal; a meal/sacrifice commemorated around an altar/table.
The meal aspect of the Eucharistic celebration cannot be separated from its sacrificial aspect. But it must not be minimalized to the point of almost being completely eliminated, as it is for more than 99% of the Church's members during these virtual Masses.
Only those who eat can be nourished. This is how the Church has always understood the words of Jesus, "Take this all of you and eat of it."
Even when frequent communion was not practiced, the Fourth Lateran Council (1215) established what came to be known as the "Easter duty", obliging Catholics to confess their sins to a priest at least once a year and receive the Eucharist during the Easter Season.
This liturgical season continues until May 31st this year. And, hopefully, by then Catholics in most places will have been able to begin worshipping together again.
But in the meantime, is virtual Mass really necessary or helpful?
Eucharist theology that's inadequate and schizophrenic
The liturgical lockdown has shown us that the Church is more fully cleric-centered than most of us would like to admit. It has also revealed inadequacies and even a type of schizophrenia in our theology about the Eucharist.
It is caught somewhere between a post-Trinitine legalistic/mechanical view of the sacraments and a post-Vatican II understanding/recovery of baptism as the prime sacrament that makes one a member of, not just the Church, but also a member of the common priesthood.
Those who are ordained to Holy Orders are more properly called presbyters. The have been ordained to organize and lead the community's worship. But the priestly character is shared by the entire community of the baptized and is present in the worshipping assembly.
Our theologians and pastors must discern more attentively and reflect more deeply on this reality. This will certainly lead to wider, though perhaps more subtle ramifications for how we understand and celebrate the Eucharist.
"Extraneous props at a clerical drama"
It was astonishing to read a document that the bishops from the Italian region of Umbria published on March 31 to justify priests celebrating Mass alone without the presence of anyone else.
"The assembly participates in the celebration but is not a constitutive part of the sacramental action, as is the ordained minister, presbyter or bishop," the bishops wrote.
"This is clearly not what the People of God need to hear – that they are extraneous props at a clerical drama," commented a friend, who happens to be a presbyter.
It's not clear who wrote the bishops' document, but the author states some even more disturbing things that underline the Church's theological (and ecclesiological) schizophrenia surrounding the Eucharist.
No matter, the men who lead the 13 dioceses located in Umbria are ultimately responsible for the content.
A cardinal and two former top Vatican officials
And it is alarming that one of them is the president of the Italian Episcopal Conference (Cardinal Gualtiero Bassetti), while another is a former secretary of the Congregation for Divine Worship and Discipline of the Sacraments (Archbishop Domenico Sorrentino).
The person who actually signed and published the text is the regional conference's president, Archbishop Renato Boccardo.
He's a career papal diplomat and longtime Vatican official who rose to become the second-in-command of Vatican City State. He also worked in the papal liturgical ceremonies office for a number of years.
Boccardo wrote to the priests of his own diocese ten days earlier, expressing similar sentiments found in the regional document.
"I urge you not to neglect the daily offering 'pro populo' of the sacrifice of Christ," he wrote.
No need for people. The priest is offering the sacrifice on their behalf. And he's partaking of the meal all by himself, as well…
"Maybe that will come later"
Catholics will have to decide on their own how they will pray and participate in the sacred mysteries of this Holy Week and Easter. There are not many priests or bishops who will be of any great help, except to do the old Mass for Shut-ins routine.
Perhaps we can take a lesson from Edith Stein, the Jewish convert who became a Carmelite nun and was killed during the Shoah.
She knew what it meant to go without the Eucharist.
On August 4, 1942 she wrote these words from a Nazi transit camp in the Netherlands, just five days before she was killed in a gas chamber at Auschwitz:
"We are very calm and cheerful. Of course, so far there has been no Mass and communion; maybe that will come later. Now we have a chance to experience a little how to live purely from within."
Pope Francis, An Usual Urbi et Orbi and Liturgy in the Time of Pandemic
When the
public, liturgical activity of the Church is reduced to a minimum, we must
carefully discern the discreet signs of the Spirit in our daily lives, says
Massimo Faggioli (Published on 31st March, 2020) This article is from the La-Croix International website - you can access the site here but complete full access is via paid subscription
The
coronavirus pandemic is pushing all of us to relativize and prioritize. This is
also true for the Catholic Church, or at least it should.
The forced
cessation of the Church's public activities – in some countries, it will last
well beyond Easter – brings up the importance of the theological concept of
"Christianity as style".
Christoph
Theobald, a French-German Jesuit, has been developing this idea over the last
few years. He published his latest thoughts on it in a long essay that appeared
in the Italian Catholic monthly Il Regno, well before the coronavirus
emergency.
'The saints
next door'
Christianity
as style during the current pandemic, means rediscovering an elementary, basic
faith that does not depend on external constructs. This is a key to understanding
the importance of Pope Francis' pontificate at this tragic moment for the world
and the Church.
The Jesuit
pope's emphasis on discernment as an engine of interior mobility is even richer
now when external mobility is not possible. Theobald mentions his exhortation
on holiness, Gaudete et Exsultate, which evokes the image of "the saints
next door".
"Very
often it is a holiness found in our next-door neighbours, those who, living in
our midst, reflect God's presence," Francis writes in that 2018 text.
This could
be a true catechesis for millions of people now be stuck at home for a number
of weeks, forced to coexist with their neighbours like never before.
Christianity is an event of encounter with the divine, but also with others.
A time to
ponder the 'last things'
This time of
forced social distancing will likely help us rediscover the theological value
of encountering Christ through our encounters with others. It is a reversal of
French existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre's famous dictum: "Hell is other
people".
Eschatology,
or the "doctrine of the last things", has always been very powerful
in giving the right dimension to oversized ideas and institutions.
And this
kind of emergency exerts an enormous pressure on all of us to ponder the last
things. It also reveals the stuff certain churchmen and ecclesiastical
institutions are made of.
Two styles
of Church
"Style
is the man" – the proverbial saying that one's chosen style reflects one's
essential characteristics – can also be applied to Church leadership. The
coronavirus emergency is showing us that there are two ways of expressing the
style of the Church.
On the one
hand, there's the approach of the Pontifical Academies of Sciences and of
Social Sciences. In a statement on March 20 they offered "lessons for
future actions and changing priorities" in the wake of the virus' spread.
"We
note with great appreciation the tremendous services currently provided by
health workers and medical professionals, including virologists and
others," the academies say in the opening lines of their statement.
Not of the
sacristy, but of humanity
In a similar
way, the Holy See's daily paper, L'Osservatore Romano, offered a similar
approach espoused by Francis by publishing two articles in its March 29 issue
on liturgy and the "domestic church".
One of the
articles suggested the possibilities of this moment.
"The
domestic memorial contains a peculiar secular dimension. It does not smell of
sacristy. On the contrary, it touches the foundations of our humanity," it
said.
But there
has been also another style on display, and particularly because of the
liturgical emergency we all are experiencing.
Looking
backwards, issuing prohibitions
Uncomfortable
as I am with the idea of Easter Masses celebrated without the people, I am not
sure it would be a good idea to postpone Easter. But I am sure there that the
Roman Curia should have a better way to convey this to the Catholic faithful.
It was
unseemly that the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF) should
choose to publish decrees on the extraordinary form of the Roman Rite on March
25, in the middle of the pandemic.
But, at the
same time, it indicated the contradiction between Francis and the liturgical
agenda of the pre-existing Vatican establishment.
Then there
was the style of the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the
Sacraments (CDWDS), which was strictly in terms of prohibitions and limits.
It reminded
me of when China's State Administration for Religious Affairs decreed in 2007
that all the reincarnations of tulkus of Tibetan Buddhism must get government
approval; otherwise they are "illegal or invalid". Involuntary humour,
but truly Kafkaesque.
The pope
alone
This is
important in order to understand Pope Francis' incredibly moving prayer on
March 27 in an empty St. Peter's Square. There was the pope, alone; but also in
the company of the faith and his people.
The style of
that intense Urbi et Orbi was also – indirectly, but not so subtle – an
indictment of other styles of leadership, included within the Church and the
Vatican.
There was
not only a mastery of the aesthetics of this spiritual moment, but there was
also a significantly different theological reading of the pandemic.
The pope
shunned any moralistic interpretations of the disease, a recurring temptation
in our civilization, as Susan Sontag wrote in her 1978 book, Illness as
Metaphor.
In the style
of Francis there was the whole message, and it is the style of the Second
Vatican Council (1962-65): the "noble simplicity" that is stressed in
the Vatican II constitution on the liturgy.
The medium
is the message
The Jesuit
historian John O'Malley wrote in his 2008 book What Happened at Vatican II that
the council's "style of discourse was the medium that conveyed the
message", and that "the style is thus values-expressive".
And as
Theobald pointed out, the blind spots of the theology of Vatican II (celebrated
almost sixty years ago) can be filled with the insights coming from the style
of Vatican II.
Francis'
embrace of the whole world would be unthinkable without the council's theology
of the Church in the modern world, where the institutional loneliness of the
pope within the Church and the distinctiveness of Catholic ecclesiology are
understood in a fundamental solidarity with the one human family.
A Church of
paradoxes
Catholicism
is full of paradoxes. The pope alone in St. Peter's Square, praying in front of
a basilica that was built, in part, with the dirty money of indulgences; and
yet here he is offering an indulgence to the people through his Urbi et Orbi
blessing.
As I wrote
to my students, it's the same Church of the sex abuse crisis that we are
studying in our course. Francis is evidently aware of the contradictions and
paradoxes, as we have seen in the last seven years.
It is
particularly evident in his way of not letting the Roman Curia define his
ministry. And we shall see what sort of impact the pandemic and the recession
will have on his plans to reform the Curia.
The contrast
between Francis and the ecclesiastical status quo is not just a paradox. It is
also a real and problematic contradiction.
For one
thing, it strongly contradicts the ongoing pandemic-induced revanche of
liturgical traditionalism, with phenomena of clerical solipsism sometimes
accompanied by the re-emergence of semi-magical rituals for local media
consumption.
Solidarity,
not triumphalism or exclusivism
It is true
that it is easier for the pope than for the bishops and priests who have to
keep their local churches afloat, both spiritually and financially. Francis has
at its disposal the formidable apparatus and scenery of the Vatican to convey
the message of communion in the Church and with the world.
But his
style is also a message to the institutional Church to overcome the temptation
of using this moment as an opportunity to go back to a theology and a liturgy
shaped by triumphalism and exclusivism, instead of solidarity.
Understanding
the importance of style as a Church also means, in this particular moment, the
capability of sustaining ourselves spiritually without the usual institutional
supports.
At the very
least, we should not be burdened with additional mortifications.
This can be
a disaster or it can be an opportunity for the Church to rethink its pastoral
and missionary activity. The Gospel is an ecclesial presence – in the sense of
being relational – and this moment can help rebuild the credibility of the
Church.
When the public,
liturgical activity of the Church is reduced to a minimum (or to nothing), we
must carefully discern and detect the discreet signs of the Spirit in our daily
lives in lockdown.
It's more a
matter of dos than of don'ts.
A Quiet Refusal
This article is taken from the Daily Email sent by Fr Richard Rohr OFM from the Center for Action and Contemplation. You can subscribe to receive the email by clicking here
Because Jesus did not directly attack the religious and
institutional systems of his time until his final action against the money
changers in the temple [1], his primary social justice critique and action are
a disappointment to most radicals and social activists. Jesus’ social program,
as far as I can see, was a quiet refusal to participate in almost all external
power structures or domination systems. Once we have been told this, we see it
everywhere in the four Gospels. Jesus chose a very simple lifestyle which kept
him from being constantly co-opted by those very structures, which we can call
the sin system. (Note that the word “sin” is often used to describe individual
wrongdoing, but I’m using it in a much more corporate way, as I believe Jesus
and Paul did.)
Here are a few examples:
The city of Sepphoris was the Roman regional capital of
Galilee and the center for most money, jobs, and power in the region where
Jesus lived. It was just nine miles from Jesus’ hometown of Nazareth. Yet there
is no record that Jesus ever went there, nor is it mentioned once in the New
Testament, even though he and his father, Joseph, were carpenters or “workmen”
and Jesus traveled through many other cities much farther away. He also seems
to have avoided the money system as much as possible by using “a common purse”
(John 12:6, 13:29)—voluntary “communism,” we might say. Go ahead and hate me!
Jesus healed the poor woman whose doctors made her spend all
she had “while she only grew worse” (Mark 5:26). His three-year ministry was,
in effect, offering free healing and healthcare for any who wanted it (Jew and
non-Jew, worthy and unworthy). He consistently treated women with a dignity and
equality that was almost unknown in a patriarchal culture. He never married,
which could be interpreted as a critique of the idealized family consisting of
father, mother, and children (which became the justification for both Catholic
priests’ celibacy and the vocation of single life). He clearly respected
eunuchs, which would have been the generic term for nonbinary or trans- genders
(see Matthew 19:12), probably inspired by the universalism of Isaiah 56:4-5.
Then, at the end of his life, he surrendered to the punitive systems of both
empire and religion by letting them judge, torture, and murder him. Jesus was
finally a full victim of the systems that he refused to worship. Is this not a
much more coherent explanation of why Jesus died?
What can we learn from Jesus’ life about how we might
address the systems of inequity and oppression in our own cultures? One lesson
seems to me that we have to “start local.” Jesus doesn’t begin in Jerusalem or
head off to Rome to take on empire. Rather he starts in his own hometown, among
his own people, helping those who are hurting and naming those who are
responsible without a hint of self-righteousness. He simply goes around doing
what he knows to be right, which he surely discovered during his long periods
of solitude and silence (a form of contemplation) on the outskirts of town, and
others begin to join him.
Prayer for
Our Community:
O Great Love, thank you for living and loving in us and
through us. May all that we do flow from our deep connection with you and all
beings. Help us become a community that vulnerably shares each other’s burdens
and the weight of glory. Listen to our hearts’ longings for the healing of our
world. [Please add your own intentions.] . . . Knowing you are hearing us
better than we are speaking, we offer these prayers in all the holy names of
God, amen.
[1] Matthew 21:12-13; Mark 11:15-17; Luke 19:45-46; John
2:13-16.
Adapted from Richard Rohr, What Do We Do with Evil? (CAC
Publishing: December 2019), 71-72.
The Dispelling Of An Illusion
This article is taken from the archive of Fr Ron Rolheiser OMI. You can find this article and many others by clicking here
We don’t much like the word disillusionment. Normally we think of it as a negative, something pejorative, and not as something that does us a favor. And yet disillusionment is a positive, it means the dispelling of an illusion and illusions, unless we need one as a temporary tonic, are not good for us. They keep us from the truth, from reality.
There are many, many negatives to the current coronavirus that’s wreaking a deadly havoc across the planet. But there’s one positive: Against every form of resistance we can muster, it’s dispelling the illusion that we are in control of our lives and that, by our own efforts, we can make ourselves invulnerable. That lesson has come upon us uninvited. This unforeseen and unwelcome virus is teaching us that, no matter our sophistication, intelligence, wealth, health, or status, we’re all vulnerable, we’re all at the mercy of a thousand contingencies over which we have little control. No amount of denial will change that.
Granted, at one level of our consciousness we’re always aware of our vulnerability. But sometimes after we have walked a dangerous ledge for a long time we forget the peril and are no longer aware of the narrowness of the plank upon which we’re walking. Then too our sense of our vulnerability to a hundred million dangers is, like our sense of mortality, normally pretty abstract and not very real. We all know that like everyone else we are going to die one day; but normally this doesn’t weigh very heavily on our consciousness. We live instead with the sense that we’re not going to die just yet. Our own deaths aren’t really real to us. They are not yet an imminent threat but only a distant, abstract reality.
Generally, such too is the vagueness of our sense of vulnerability. Yes, we know abstractly that we are vulnerable, but generally we feel pretty secure. But as this virus spreads, consumes our newscasts, and brings our normal lives to a halt, our sense of vulnerability is no longer a vague, abstract threat. We’re now much more aware that we all live at the mercies of a million contingencies, most over which we have little control.
However, to our defense, our innate sense that we’re in control and can safeguard our own safety and security should not be too-hastily and too-harshly judged. We can’t help it. It’s the way we’re built. We’re instinctually geared to hate our weaknesses, our vulnerability, our limitations, and our awareness of our own poverty and are instinctually geared to want to feel secure, in control, independent, invulnerable, and self-sufficient. That’s a mercy of grace and nature because it helps save us from despondency and helps us to live with a (needed) healthy pride. But it’s also an illusion; perhaps one that we need for long periods in our lives but also one that in moments of clarity and lucidity we’re meant dispel so as to acknowledge before God and to ourselves that we’re interdependent, not self-sufficient, and not ultimately in control. Whatever else about this virus, it’s bringing us a moment of clarity and lucidity, even if this is far from welcome.
We were given the same lesson, in effect, with the downing of the Twin Towers in New York City on September 11th, 2001. In witnessing this single tragic incident we went from feeling safe and invulnerable to knowing that we are not able, despite everything we have achieved, to ensure our own safety and safety of our loved ones. A lot of people relearned the meaning of prayer that day. A lot of us are relearning the meaning of prayer as we sit quarantined at home during this coronavirus.
Richard Rohr suggests that the passage from childhood to adulthood requires an initiation into a number of necessary life-truths. One of these can be summarized this way: You are not in Control! If that is true, and it is, then this coronavirus is helping initiate us all into a more mature adulthood. We are becoming more conscious of an important truth. However, we may not see any divine intent in this. Every fundamentalist voice that suggests that God sent this virus to each of us a lesson is dangerously wrong and is an insult to true faith. Still we need to hear God’s voice inside of it. God is speaking all the time but mostly we aren’t listening; this sort of thing helps serve as God’s microphone to a deaf world.
Illusions aren’t easy to dispel, and for good reasons. We cling to them by instinct and we generally need them to get through life. For this reason, Socrates, in his wisdom, once wrote that “there is nothing that requires as gentle a treatment as the removal of an illusion”. Anything other than gentleness only makes us more resistant.
This coronavirus is anything but gentle. But inside all of its harshness perhaps we might feel a gentle nudge that we help us dispel the illusion that we are in control.
For A Time Such As This: Your Parish And The Covid-19 Crisis
Week 2: Digital Communication
This article is taken from the Blog posted by Fr Michael White, Pastor of the Church of the Nativity, Timoneum, Baltimore. You can find the original blog by clicking here
Currently, I am using this space to explore what we are doing at Nativity to weather this crisis and rebuild beyond it. But honestly, we’re making it up as we go along, just like you. We’ll be sharing with you what we’re doing, what’s working, and what isn’t. As always, our only credential is that, like you, we’re in the trenches figuring it out.
If you haven’t read last week’s message, check it out here: (link).
Sudden crises tend to accelerate disruptive trends. The changes we have been putting off for so long tend to become obvious when we are faced with an overwhelming, existential threat. This moment in time is no different. Fallout from the COVID-19 pandemic has forced parishes and other church institutions to embrace many changes that some once thought were incongruent with our mission.
It is tempting to feel that we are totally unequipped to face the insurmountable challenges ahead. But we must also remember that this time is unique not just because of its challenges but because of its opportunities. Technologies that did not exist even a year ago – accessible livestreaming tools, capable and cheap video conferencing, and ubiquitous high-speed mobile internet – allow us to continue living out our mission nearly uninterrupted.
Here are a few strategies you should consider when transitioning to digital communication:
#1. Tailor your communication to fit the current landscape.
Most of our communication channels were designed to reflect what our churches looked like before the quarantine. Your church building on the cover of your bulletin, photos of your children’s choir or youth group activities on your web site…all obviously who you were before the crisis but not how your parish is engaging people right now.
It is especially important to update your website in view of this crisis. This past week we completely made over our home page (check it out: churchnativity.com). Your website is the new front door for your parish. How it looks and what it communicates will be the first impression for almost all potential new guests – even those who will one day attend your services in person. That it is relevant to people’s concerns these days is incredibly important. What images and language are you using, to reflect how you are reaching people in this time of isolation. And take this opportunity to get rid of some of the clutter.
#2. Establish a rhythm of communication.
If you’re wading into digital communication for the first time, the options seem endless and intimidating. Don’t try to hit them all at once. Focus on creating a consistent rhythm of excellent communication through social media and your email list.
It used to be that people wanted to hear from us one day a week. Now, they are looking for hope every day. Use your social media channels frequently to solicit prayer requests, summarize important points of your homilies, share inspiring resources, and participate in the prayer life of the parish.
Email is a great tool for infrequent, more formal, or parish-wide announcements. However, if you overcommunicate, each message loses value. Aim for about one per week, at most.
#3. Foster connection.
Contrary to some schools of thought, online tools can foster genuine connection. Social media is for more than just pushing content. Make an effort to engage people in conversation. Even posts with unassuming questions like “What was the first movie you remember seeing in a theater?” will get people engaging and bonding over shared interests.
Video chat tools like Zoom, Skype, and Google Hangouts, can also be indispensable ways of keeping small groups connected. Encourage your Bible studies, men’s and women’s groups, and even children’s ministry to use video chat to keep up their regularly scheduled meetings.
These innovations are here…and they’re here to stay.
Welcome to what church looks like now.
Love In Lockdown
Ignatius of Loyola believed that love ought to express itself in deeds rather than words, but what do those deeds look like when we are asked to separate ourselves from one another? Tim McEvoy asks us to consider human limitation and divine possibility during a time when we are all called to enter into our own ‘passion’. Tim McEvoy is a spiritual director at St Beuno's Jesuit Spirituality Centre in North Wales.
This article is taken from the ThinkingFaith.org website where you can find a wide range of articles by clicking here
What does ‘love your neighbour as yourself’ look like in a lockdown scenario? This is a question that has been with me in recent days and that continues to challenge. In the face of government and medical advice to socially distance or even isolate ourselves completely, how do we continue to fulfil that most urgent and fundamental of commandments? To a cradle Catholic brought up on parables such as the Good Samaritan, to be told to avoid contact with others deliberately and cross over to the other side of the street feels painfully counter-intuitive even when the clear and essential reasons for it are understood.
One of the cruellest aspects of the Coronavirus pandemic seems to be that, at a time when the consolation of human contact is needed by so many more than ever, it is the very thing that we are asked to forego. What form can love take when deprived of its touch, its immediacy, its flesh and bones? How do I still respond compassionately and humanely to the needs of others around me, even though physically separated from them?
These are big questions that might challenge each of us in different ways. Of course, love takes many and varied forms depending on the concrete circumstances in which it finds itself. For Ignatius of Loyola, love was primarily about action and ought to express itself in deeds rather than words. A better question in that case might be: what is the most loving thing to do in the reality of the here and now, within the limits of what is possible? As Gerry W. Hughes SJ once wrote, ‘God is in the facts’, and so however unwelcome or unchosen the facts of our life and experience are now, how we respond to them is within our grasp.
Many people, it need not be said, are going about responding to the needs of their neighbour right now with courageous and compassionate action. Those health professionals tasked with caring for the sick and dying are simply doing their jobs, what is required of them, and are meeting an urgent need at no slight risk to their own health. As are transport workers, police officers, teachers, supermarket staff, those working to produce and supply food and other essential supplies to our homes and hospitals, to name but a few. The response of communities and individuals in creative new ways to care for and console the vulnerable and lonely in our midst is both humbling and inspiring. For others of us, how we might respond in our own context may be less obvious and be a matter for careful individual and communal discernment.
It may be challenging to discover that the most loving course of action for us at the moment is to protect our own health and bodies – particularly if we fall into an ‘at risk’ category – or to separate ourselves and our families physically from our community and those we most love in order to slow the spread of disease. Such actions demand self-denial and, even, loving self-sacrifice. It can feel profoundly disempowering and go against the grain of our natural desire to help and be of use to others. Such experiences of what we might call ‘passion’ – in the sense of feeling ‘passive’, being ‘done unto’ rather than doing – can nevertheless be loving if entered into intentionally.
For Christians this is part of the mystery of human suffering and the trust that God can be discovered and experienced intimately with us in all things – even in the darkest moments of our lives – and that, with God, we can also be profoundly united in solidarity with the suffering of others. In Ignatian language, this is the experience of the ‘Third Week’ of the Spiritual Exercises, when the retreatant chooses to accompany Jesus during the period of his being ‘handed over’, his Passion, suffering and death, and discovers that Jesus, too, accompanies us through our own trials. The spiritual gift or grace that is asked for at this time is compassion: literally ‘to suffer with’ Jesus out of deep, committed, personal love. Our compassion for God emerges in response to the compassion of God-with-us.
It is hard not to be challenged by the many, often heroic, examples in the past of saints who have chosen this same path during periods of sickness, war or natural disaster. Many have made that radical choice to accompany others in their time of trial, discerned within the reality of their present needs and circumstances. Many ordinary men and women continue to do so, those ‘saints next door’ as Pope Francis puts it.
In his history of the first years of the Society of Jesus, Jesuit historian John O’Malley highlights not a few such examples. Visiting the sick and supplying the physical and spiritual needs of those most affected by famine, flood or disease was an intrinsic part of the early Jesuits’ self-identity and mission – an early form of their engagement in social justice, as it would much later become known. Direct physical or financial assistance was a daily dimension of their work whether they were begging for alms, clothing or accommodation, or setting up new institutions to provide such care when it didn’t already exist in the community. ‘Wherever the Jesuits went, they eventually found their way to the hospitals,’ O’Malley writes, visiting, feeding, tending the sick and hearing confessions.[1]
Such direct contact came at great personal risk during the repeated plague epidemics in sixteenth-century Europe. In the plague outbreak in Perugia in 1553, Jesuits remained almost alone to nurse and minister to the sick and dying in hospitals and in their homes. They frequently found themselves filling a gaping hole in society where medical and pastoral attention was desperately needed in an age before the welfare state and modern healthcare provision was even dreamed of.
Yet even in these circumstances, wisdom and discretion were required. When Diego Laínez – one of Ignatius’s first companions – became General of the Society it was discerned that a more cautious policy was required. However, even with this in place, a number of Jesuits continued to put themselves in harm’s way during the plagues in Rome in 1566, 1568 and in Lisbon the following year, when seventeen Jesuits died while accompanying plague victims.[2] Clearly this was a difficult matter and a dangerous dimension to ministry that required ongoing review of practice.
In more recent times, we might learn from the example of Pedro Arrupe, the Superior General of the Society of Jesus in the years immediately following the Second Vatican Council who, more than any other, put social engagement back at the forefront of Jesuit ministries worldwide. It was he who founded the Jesuit Refugee Service in 1980 in response to the migration crisis that followed the Vietnam war.
As a Jesuit missionary in Japan, Arrupe witnessed first-hand the devastation wrought by the first atomic bomb explosion in Hiroshima in August 1945. Making use of his previous medical training, he turned the Jesuit novitiate there into a makeshift field hospital to care for the wounded and dying at a time when the effects of radiation were barely comprehended. The harrowing experience would be forever etched into his memory. Regarded by many as a ‘second Ignatius’, a second founder of the Society, Arrupe – a Basque, like Ignatius – was similarly a man of action moved by intense love for God and for his neighbour.
Yet Arrupe also learned from his, perhaps equally striking, experiences of passion. The powerlessness and lack of freedom that he experienced following a debilitating stroke in 1981 proved to be one of the defining features of his life. Partially paralysed and with severe speech impediment, his ministry for the last ten years of his life consisted of praying for and with his brother Jesuits and those they accompanied. One of his prayers from these last years continues to speak into the experience of many today who find themselves in situations beyond their control, whether through illness, infirmity or external circumstances:
More than ever, I now find myself in the hands of God. This is what I have wanted all my life, from my youth. And this is still the one thing I want. But now there is a difference: the initiative is entirely with God. It is indeed a profound spiritual experience to know and feel myself so totally in his hands.[3]
Sometimes action – generous, even self-sacrificial – is required of us. At other times, we are asked to walk a different path. Compassionate accompaniment of others may take unusual or unexpected forms. There may come times in life when our primary means of expressing love for others and our world is to pray for them and surrender what we cannot do or control to God.
Whatever our situation and whatever means lie at our disposal, we might ask ourselves how best we can respond humanly and compassionately to the needs of those around us at the present time. What is the most loving thing to do in the reality of my here and now, within its human limits and its divine possibilities? What is certain is that no expression of love – however small or seemingly insignificant – is wasted. As Pope Francis, another great follower of Ignatius, puts it:
No single act of love for God will be lost, no generous effort is meaningless, no painful endurance is wasted. All of these encircle our world like a vital force. Sometimes it seems that our work is fruitless, but mission is not like a business transaction or investment … it is something much deeper, which escapes all measurement … The Holy Spirit works as he wills, when he wills and where he wills.[4]
[1] Cited in John W. O’Malley SJ, The First Jesuits (Harvard University Press, 2001), p. 171.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Pedro Arrupe SJ cited in Kevin Burke (ed.), Pedro Arrupe: Essential Writings (New York, 2004), p. 201.
[4] Pope Francis, Evangelii Gaudium, §279.
This article is taken from the Blog posted by Fr Michael White, Pastor of the Church of the Nativity, Timoneum, Baltimore. You can find the original blog by clicking here
Currently, I am using this space to explore what we are doing at Nativity to weather this crisis and rebuild beyond it. But honestly, we’re making it up as we go along, just like you. We’ll be sharing with you what we’re doing, what’s working, and what isn’t. As always, our only credential is that, like you, we’re in the trenches figuring it out.
If you haven’t read last week’s message, check it out here: (link).
Sudden crises tend to accelerate disruptive trends. The changes we have been putting off for so long tend to become obvious when we are faced with an overwhelming, existential threat. This moment in time is no different. Fallout from the COVID-19 pandemic has forced parishes and other church institutions to embrace many changes that some once thought were incongruent with our mission.
It is tempting to feel that we are totally unequipped to face the insurmountable challenges ahead. But we must also remember that this time is unique not just because of its challenges but because of its opportunities. Technologies that did not exist even a year ago – accessible livestreaming tools, capable and cheap video conferencing, and ubiquitous high-speed mobile internet – allow us to continue living out our mission nearly uninterrupted.
Here are a few strategies you should consider when transitioning to digital communication:
#1. Tailor your communication to fit the current landscape.
Most of our communication channels were designed to reflect what our churches looked like before the quarantine. Your church building on the cover of your bulletin, photos of your children’s choir or youth group activities on your web site…all obviously who you were before the crisis but not how your parish is engaging people right now.
It is especially important to update your website in view of this crisis. This past week we completely made over our home page (check it out: churchnativity.com). Your website is the new front door for your parish. How it looks and what it communicates will be the first impression for almost all potential new guests – even those who will one day attend your services in person. That it is relevant to people’s concerns these days is incredibly important. What images and language are you using, to reflect how you are reaching people in this time of isolation. And take this opportunity to get rid of some of the clutter.
#2. Establish a rhythm of communication.
If you’re wading into digital communication for the first time, the options seem endless and intimidating. Don’t try to hit them all at once. Focus on creating a consistent rhythm of excellent communication through social media and your email list.
It used to be that people wanted to hear from us one day a week. Now, they are looking for hope every day. Use your social media channels frequently to solicit prayer requests, summarize important points of your homilies, share inspiring resources, and participate in the prayer life of the parish.
Email is a great tool for infrequent, more formal, or parish-wide announcements. However, if you overcommunicate, each message loses value. Aim for about one per week, at most.
#3. Foster connection.
Contrary to some schools of thought, online tools can foster genuine connection. Social media is for more than just pushing content. Make an effort to engage people in conversation. Even posts with unassuming questions like “What was the first movie you remember seeing in a theater?” will get people engaging and bonding over shared interests.
Video chat tools like Zoom, Skype, and Google Hangouts, can also be indispensable ways of keeping small groups connected. Encourage your Bible studies, men’s and women’s groups, and even children’s ministry to use video chat to keep up their regularly scheduled meetings.
These innovations are here…and they’re here to stay.
Welcome to what church looks like now.
Love In Lockdown
Ignatius of Loyola believed that love ought to express itself in deeds rather than words, but what do those deeds look like when we are asked to separate ourselves from one another? Tim McEvoy asks us to consider human limitation and divine possibility during a time when we are all called to enter into our own ‘passion’. Tim McEvoy is a spiritual director at St Beuno's Jesuit Spirituality Centre in North Wales.
This article is taken from the ThinkingFaith.org website where you can find a wide range of articles by clicking here
What does ‘love your neighbour as yourself’ look like in a lockdown scenario? This is a question that has been with me in recent days and that continues to challenge. In the face of government and medical advice to socially distance or even isolate ourselves completely, how do we continue to fulfil that most urgent and fundamental of commandments? To a cradle Catholic brought up on parables such as the Good Samaritan, to be told to avoid contact with others deliberately and cross over to the other side of the street feels painfully counter-intuitive even when the clear and essential reasons for it are understood.
One of the cruellest aspects of the Coronavirus pandemic seems to be that, at a time when the consolation of human contact is needed by so many more than ever, it is the very thing that we are asked to forego. What form can love take when deprived of its touch, its immediacy, its flesh and bones? How do I still respond compassionately and humanely to the needs of others around me, even though physically separated from them?
These are big questions that might challenge each of us in different ways. Of course, love takes many and varied forms depending on the concrete circumstances in which it finds itself. For Ignatius of Loyola, love was primarily about action and ought to express itself in deeds rather than words. A better question in that case might be: what is the most loving thing to do in the reality of the here and now, within the limits of what is possible? As Gerry W. Hughes SJ once wrote, ‘God is in the facts’, and so however unwelcome or unchosen the facts of our life and experience are now, how we respond to them is within our grasp.
Many people, it need not be said, are going about responding to the needs of their neighbour right now with courageous and compassionate action. Those health professionals tasked with caring for the sick and dying are simply doing their jobs, what is required of them, and are meeting an urgent need at no slight risk to their own health. As are transport workers, police officers, teachers, supermarket staff, those working to produce and supply food and other essential supplies to our homes and hospitals, to name but a few. The response of communities and individuals in creative new ways to care for and console the vulnerable and lonely in our midst is both humbling and inspiring. For others of us, how we might respond in our own context may be less obvious and be a matter for careful individual and communal discernment.
It may be challenging to discover that the most loving course of action for us at the moment is to protect our own health and bodies – particularly if we fall into an ‘at risk’ category – or to separate ourselves and our families physically from our community and those we most love in order to slow the spread of disease. Such actions demand self-denial and, even, loving self-sacrifice. It can feel profoundly disempowering and go against the grain of our natural desire to help and be of use to others. Such experiences of what we might call ‘passion’ – in the sense of feeling ‘passive’, being ‘done unto’ rather than doing – can nevertheless be loving if entered into intentionally.
For Christians this is part of the mystery of human suffering and the trust that God can be discovered and experienced intimately with us in all things – even in the darkest moments of our lives – and that, with God, we can also be profoundly united in solidarity with the suffering of others. In Ignatian language, this is the experience of the ‘Third Week’ of the Spiritual Exercises, when the retreatant chooses to accompany Jesus during the period of his being ‘handed over’, his Passion, suffering and death, and discovers that Jesus, too, accompanies us through our own trials. The spiritual gift or grace that is asked for at this time is compassion: literally ‘to suffer with’ Jesus out of deep, committed, personal love. Our compassion for God emerges in response to the compassion of God-with-us.
It is hard not to be challenged by the many, often heroic, examples in the past of saints who have chosen this same path during periods of sickness, war or natural disaster. Many have made that radical choice to accompany others in their time of trial, discerned within the reality of their present needs and circumstances. Many ordinary men and women continue to do so, those ‘saints next door’ as Pope Francis puts it.
In his history of the first years of the Society of Jesus, Jesuit historian John O’Malley highlights not a few such examples. Visiting the sick and supplying the physical and spiritual needs of those most affected by famine, flood or disease was an intrinsic part of the early Jesuits’ self-identity and mission – an early form of their engagement in social justice, as it would much later become known. Direct physical or financial assistance was a daily dimension of their work whether they were begging for alms, clothing or accommodation, or setting up new institutions to provide such care when it didn’t already exist in the community. ‘Wherever the Jesuits went, they eventually found their way to the hospitals,’ O’Malley writes, visiting, feeding, tending the sick and hearing confessions.[1]
Such direct contact came at great personal risk during the repeated plague epidemics in sixteenth-century Europe. In the plague outbreak in Perugia in 1553, Jesuits remained almost alone to nurse and minister to the sick and dying in hospitals and in their homes. They frequently found themselves filling a gaping hole in society where medical and pastoral attention was desperately needed in an age before the welfare state and modern healthcare provision was even dreamed of.
Yet even in these circumstances, wisdom and discretion were required. When Diego Laínez – one of Ignatius’s first companions – became General of the Society it was discerned that a more cautious policy was required. However, even with this in place, a number of Jesuits continued to put themselves in harm’s way during the plagues in Rome in 1566, 1568 and in Lisbon the following year, when seventeen Jesuits died while accompanying plague victims.[2] Clearly this was a difficult matter and a dangerous dimension to ministry that required ongoing review of practice.
In more recent times, we might learn from the example of Pedro Arrupe, the Superior General of the Society of Jesus in the years immediately following the Second Vatican Council who, more than any other, put social engagement back at the forefront of Jesuit ministries worldwide. It was he who founded the Jesuit Refugee Service in 1980 in response to the migration crisis that followed the Vietnam war.
As a Jesuit missionary in Japan, Arrupe witnessed first-hand the devastation wrought by the first atomic bomb explosion in Hiroshima in August 1945. Making use of his previous medical training, he turned the Jesuit novitiate there into a makeshift field hospital to care for the wounded and dying at a time when the effects of radiation were barely comprehended. The harrowing experience would be forever etched into his memory. Regarded by many as a ‘second Ignatius’, a second founder of the Society, Arrupe – a Basque, like Ignatius – was similarly a man of action moved by intense love for God and for his neighbour.
Yet Arrupe also learned from his, perhaps equally striking, experiences of passion. The powerlessness and lack of freedom that he experienced following a debilitating stroke in 1981 proved to be one of the defining features of his life. Partially paralysed and with severe speech impediment, his ministry for the last ten years of his life consisted of praying for and with his brother Jesuits and those they accompanied. One of his prayers from these last years continues to speak into the experience of many today who find themselves in situations beyond their control, whether through illness, infirmity or external circumstances:
More than ever, I now find myself in the hands of God. This is what I have wanted all my life, from my youth. And this is still the one thing I want. But now there is a difference: the initiative is entirely with God. It is indeed a profound spiritual experience to know and feel myself so totally in his hands.[3]
Sometimes action – generous, even self-sacrificial – is required of us. At other times, we are asked to walk a different path. Compassionate accompaniment of others may take unusual or unexpected forms. There may come times in life when our primary means of expressing love for others and our world is to pray for them and surrender what we cannot do or control to God.
Whatever our situation and whatever means lie at our disposal, we might ask ourselves how best we can respond humanly and compassionately to the needs of those around us at the present time. What is the most loving thing to do in the reality of my here and now, within its human limits and its divine possibilities? What is certain is that no expression of love – however small or seemingly insignificant – is wasted. As Pope Francis, another great follower of Ignatius, puts it:
No single act of love for God will be lost, no generous effort is meaningless, no painful endurance is wasted. All of these encircle our world like a vital force. Sometimes it seems that our work is fruitless, but mission is not like a business transaction or investment … it is something much deeper, which escapes all measurement … The Holy Spirit works as he wills, when he wills and where he wills.[4]
[1] Cited in John W. O’Malley SJ, The First Jesuits (Harvard University Press, 2001), p. 171.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Pedro Arrupe SJ cited in Kevin Burke (ed.), Pedro Arrupe: Essential Writings (New York, 2004), p. 201.
[4] Pope Francis, Evangelii Gaudium, §279.
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