It was a wonderful evening at the sixth annual Homegrown Harvest Festival. We had a record number of guests and raised a record amount for our seminarians. At last count, we brought in about $190,000, all of which will support our 12 current seminarians and our efforts to continue promoting the priesthood throughout the diocese.
Fr. Nick Adam
Currently, we have three men applying for the seminary for next August. We would love to hit $200,000 – our goal heading into the night – so if you haven’t given and would like to, please contact Rebecca Harris in the diocesan Development Office at (601) 969-1880. Thanks to everyone who worked so hard to make this night a huge success.
One of the greatest gifts of the evening was seeing our seminarian parents having such a great time and working together in support of their sons. We have a diverse group of young men, and their parents have really grown together in the past several months as they walk with them on this journey.
The silent auction included 12 baskets put together by each seminarian’s family. The baskets were filled with items that each seminarian enjoys. For instance, Eli McFadden’s basket was full of St. Louis Cardinals items because his grandparents are from St. Louis, and he loves the team. Our parents are also considering starting a prayer group among themselves to pray for their sons, for more seminarians and for me – which I greatly appreciate.
This year’s 2025–2026 Seminarian Poster highlights the 12 men currently preparing for the priesthood in the Diocese of Jackson. Please keep them in your prayers as we continue to encourage more young men to discern their vocation. Join us in prayer that more will answer God’s call to serve.
It is also a joy to see more supporters feeling called to join our cause. We’ve had several families supporting seminarians for many years, and now we are seeing an increase in that support, which is a great blessing. Our new poster will be delivered in the next couple of weeks with all of our guys’ smiling faces, and I think that will be another witness to our diocese of the good work being done and the Lord’s blessings being bestowed on us.
The work of calling forth more young men to consider the priesthood is continuing. Our discernment groups are ongoing, and I was blessed to take three young men down to St. Joseph Seminary College right after Homegrown Harvest. The guys had a great time and, as usual, were amazed by how “normal” all the seminarians were. I think they saw themselves in those seminarians – which is exactly why we take those trips.
Thank you for your prayers and support. God bless our diocese.
(For more information on vocations, visit jacksonvocations.com or contact Father Nick at nick.adam@jacksondiocese.org.)
IN EXILE By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI In the movie “The English Patient” there’s a very heartwarming scene. A number of people from various countries are thrown together by circumstance in an abandoned villa in post-war Italy. Among them are a young nurse, attending to an English pilot who’s been badly burned in an air crash, and a young Asian man whose job is to find and defuse landmines. The young man and the nurse become friends and, one day, he announces he has a special surprise for her.
He takes her to an abandoned church in which he has set up a series of ropes and pulleys that will lift her to the ceiling where, hidden in darkness, are beautiful mosaics and wonderful works of art that cannot be seen from the floor. He gives her a torch as a light and pulls her up through a series of ropes so that she swings like an angel with wings, high above the floor and is able with the help of her torch to see beautiful masterpieces hidden in the dark.
For her, the experience is one of exhilaration; she has the sensation of flying and of seeing wonderful beauty all at the same time. When she’s finally lowered back to the floor she’s flushed with excitement and gratitude and covers the young man’s face with kisses, saying over and over again: “Thank you, thank you, thank you for showing this to me!”
And from her expression, you see too that she is expressing a double thanks: “Thank you for showing me something that I could never have come to on my own and thank you for trusting me enough to think that I would understand this, for trusting that I would get it!”
There’s a lesson here?
The church needs to do for the world exactly what this young man did for his nurse friend; it needs to show the world where to look for a beauty it would not find on its own, a beauty that is hidden in darkness. And it needs to trust that people will “get it,” will appreciate the richness of what they are being shown.
Where might the church find such hidden beauty? In the deep rich wells of its own history, and in nature, in art, in science, in children, in the energy of the young, and in the wisdom of the old. There are treasures of beauty hidden everywhere. The church’s task is to point these out to the world. Why?
Because beauty has the power to touch and transform the soul, to instill wonder and gratitude in a way that few things have. Confucius understood this. That’s why he suggested that beauty is the greatest of all teachers and why he based his philosophy of education on beauty. People can doubt almost anything, except beauty.
Why can’t beauty be doubted? Because beauty is an attribute of God. Classical Christian philosophy and theology tell us that God has four transcendental properties, namely, God is “One, True, Good and Beautiful.” If this is true, then to be touched by beauty is to be touched by God; to admire beauty is to admire God; to be shown beauty in hidden places is to be shown God in hidden places; to be in awe of beauty is to be in awe of God; and to feel that awe is to feel a homesickness for heaven.
The renowned theologian Hans Urs Von Baltasar highlighted how beauty is a key component in how God speaks to us and how that should color how we speak about God to the world.
However, we shouldn’t be naïve in our understanding of this. Beauty isn’t always pretty in the way that popular culture perceives it. Granted, beauty can be seen in the spectacular colors of a sunset, or in the smile and innocence of a child, or in the perfection of a Michelangelo sculpture, but it can also be seen in the wrinkles of an old woman and in the toothless smile of an old man.
God speaks through beauty and so must we. Moreover, we must believe enough in people’s sensitivity and intelligence to trust that they, like the nurse in “The English Patient,” will appreciate what they are being shown.
In a famous line (often quoted by Dorothy Day) Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky writes: The world will be saved by beauty.
What’s the logic here? How might beauty cure the many ills which beset us?
Here’s Dostoevsky’s algebra: In the face of brutality, what’s needed is tenderness; in the face of hype and ideology, what’s needed is truth; in the face of bitterness and curses, what’s needed are graciousness and blessing; in the face of hatred and murder, what’s needed are love and forgiveness; in the face of the kind of familiarity that breeds contempt, what’s needed are awe and wonder; and in the face the ugliness and vulgarity that pervades our world and our evening news, what’s needed is beauty.
(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a professor of spirituality at Oblate School of Theology and award-winning author. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com.)
ON ORDINARY TIMES By Lucia A. Silecchia Pope Leo XIV recently released the first extensive document of his papacy, “Dilexi Te,” an apostolic exhortation on love for the poor.
Almost immediately, pundits responded – some thoughtfully and others with partisan “hot takes” that pulled a mere line or two from the document to illustrate how it aligned perfectly with their viewpoints. Others turned immediately to critique, while some praised provisions they liked and ignored those they did not.
Lucia A. Silecchia
This did not surprise me. I have taught courses in Catholic social teaching and understand the instinct and temptation to view this teaching through political frameworks, ordering it to the “sides” we are used to taking.
Yet this exhortation warrants more. As an apostolic exhortation, “Dilexi Te” is less formal than an encyclical letter. Yet “exhortation” is an interesting term. Its root means “to encourage” or “to urge.” “Dilexi Te” is, therefore, encouragement or a summons to action. It is, in Pope Leo’s words, a summons to “appreciate the close connection between Christ’s love and his summons to care for the poor.”
In reading “Dilexi Te” and seeking to appreciate this “close connection,” three things challenged and – as an exhortation should – encouraged my heart most deeply.
First, the opening line, “I have loved you,” encourages prayerful reflection. It is traditional to name papal documents with the Latin translation of their opening words. Hence, “Dilexi Te” is simply the translation of the short sentence that launches the exhortation. Yet these four words (or two in Latin’s efficiency) convey a profound truth both fundamental to Christianity and largely unfathomable. To know that God says, “I have loved you,” can take a lifetime to ponder. “Dilexi Te” encourages readers to center their lives and relationships on this truth and to draw from it the inspiration for the love that should motivate care for those living with poverty.
Second, “Dilexi Te” encourages readers to see that many of our sisters and brothers live in poverty – and that this can take many different forms. Certainly, it includes material poverty. Yet “Dilexi Te” encourages a broader view. It invites readers to see that deep poverty can afflict those who suffer from many deprivations, including the sorrows of being “socially marginalized,” lacking “means to give voice to their dignity and abilities,” experiencing “moral,” “spiritual” or “cultural” poverty, being weak or fragile, or lacking “rights,” “space” or “freedom.”
Acknowledging poverty in this broader way invites and encourages us not to see “the poor” as merely “others” but to recognize that, in some way, each of us will know poverty sometime in our lives. To know this is to know deeper solidarity with those whose suffering might otherwise seem distant and easier to ignore.
Third, in what may be its most challenging yet encouraging section, “Dilexi Te” presents an extensive history of the church’s service to the suffering. The challenge embedded here is for each of us to join our ancestors in faith who lived lives in so many ways of loving service. They recognized, as Pope Leo explained, that “no sign of affection, even the smallest, will ever be forgotten, especially if it is shown to those who are suffering, lonely or in need.”
Pope Leo described the service missions of the earliest deacons of the church, who served those in need. He then pointed to some of the earliest Church Fathers – including the familiar Saints Ignatius of Antioch, Justin, John Chrysostom, Ambrose and Augustine – who taught vehemently about serving the poor and seeing how intimately intertwined are love of God and love of neighbor.
This cannot remain mere theory. Pope Leo continued by describing how care of the sick and suffering has, through the centuries, been close to the heart of the church. This has been accomplished both through the leadership of well-known saints and through the love of so many religious women who labored anonymously through the ages to offer “comfort, a listening ear, a presence, and above all, tenderness” to those in their care.
Pope Leo spoke of the generous hospitality offered by those in monastic life, under the guidance of Saints Basil the Great, Benedict of Norcia and Bernard of Clairvaux. He spoke of leaders who established religious orders to minister to those who were captured and suffering imprisonment – and of their followers, whose names may be remembered only by God. He also highlighted the ways in which religious orders such as the Franciscans, Dominicans, Augustinians and Carmelites embraced poverty for the sake of bringing others closer to God.
At length, Pope Leo spoke of orders founded in more recent centuries to offer education as a particular way of assisting those in need. He again acknowledged the often underappreciated work of women religious who devoted their lives to this, recognizing knowledge as both a “gift from God and a community responsibility.” In a similar way, he acknowledged the labors of religious orders who cared for those who migrate and those who ministered to “the poorest of the poor.” He also acknowledged those who lived lives in service to persons living with disabilities of all kinds.
This journey through the centuries is not merely a history lesson. It is an invitation to see this radical caring love as integral to our faith.
Because “Dilexi Te” is a new document from a new pope, it will get much attention. But more than attention, it deserves reflection on what it tells each of us – not others – to do. And, at its heart, it encourages us to love others as God has loved us, in all the days of our ordinary times.
(Lucia A. Silecchia is Professor of Law at the Catholic University of America’s Columbus School of Law. “On Ordinary Times” is a biweekly column reflecting on the ways to find the sacred in the simple. Email her at silecchia@cua.edu.)
El papa León XIV publicó recientemente el primer documento extenso de su pontificado, “Dilexi Te”, una exhortación apostólica sobre el amor a los pobres.
Casi de inmediato, los comentaristas reaccionaron: algunos con reflexión y otros con “opiniones rápidas” partidistas, extrayendo solo una o dos frases del documento para mostrar cómo encajaban perfectamente con sus puntos de vista. Algunos se apresuraron a criticarlo, mientras otros elogiaron las partes que les gustaban e ignoraron las que no.
Lucia A. Silecchia
Esto no me sorprendió. He enseñado cursos sobre la doctrina social de la Iglesia y entiendo el instinto y la tentación de ver estas enseñanzas a través de marcos políticos, adaptándolas a los “bandos” que estamos acostumbrados a tomar.
Sin embargo, esta exhortación merece más. Como exhortación apostólica, “Dilexi Te” es menos formal que una carta encíclica. Aun así, “exhortación” es un término interesante. Su raíz significa “animar” o “instar”. Por tanto, “Dilexi Te” es una invitación o un llamado a la acción. Es, en palabras del papa León, un llamado a “apreciar la estrecha conexión entre el amor de Cristo y su llamado a cuidar a los pobres”. Al leer “Dilexi Te” y tratar de comprender esta “estrecha conexión”, tres aspectos desafiaron – y, como debe hacerlo una exhortación – animaron profundamente mi corazón.
Primero, la línea inicial, “Te he amado”, invita a la reflexión orante. Es tradición nombrar los documentos papales con la traducción al latín de sus primeras palabras. Así, “Dilexi Te” es simplemente la traducción de la breve frase que da inicio a la exhortación. Sin embargo, estas cuatro palabras (o dos en la eficiencia del latín) transmiten una verdad profunda, fundamental para el cristianismo y, al mismo tiempo, difícil de comprender plenamente. Saber que Dios dice “Te he amado” puede tomar toda una vida de contemplación. “Dilexi Te” anima a los lectores a centrar sus vidas y relaciones en esta verdad y a encontrar en ella la inspiración para el amor que debe motivar el cuidado por quienes viven en la pobreza.
En segundo lugar, “Dilexi Te” invita a reconocer que muchos de nuestros hermanos y hermanas viven en la pobreza, la cual puede presentarse de muchas formas. Ciertamente incluye la pobreza material, pero la exhortación propone una visión más amplia. Invita a ver que una pobreza profunda puede afectar a quienes sufren diversas carencias: las penas de ser “socialmente marginados”, la falta de “medios para expresar su dignidad y capacidades”, o la experiencia de pobreza “moral”, “espiritual” o “cultural”; ser débiles o frágiles, o carecer de “derechos”, “espacio” o “libertad”.
Reconocer la pobreza de esta manera más amplia nos anima a no ver a “los pobres” como simples “otros”, sino a comprender que, de algún modo, cada uno de nosotros conocerá la pobreza en algún momento de la vida. Saber esto es descubrir una solidaridad más profunda con quienes sufren, cuya aflicción podría parecernos distante o fácil de ignorar.
En tercer lugar, en lo que tal vez sea su parte más desafiante y alentadora, “Dilexi Te” presenta una extensa historia del servicio de la Iglesia hacia los que sufren. El desafío aquí es que cada uno de nosotros se una a nuestros antepasados en la fe, que vivieron de muchas maneras el amor en servicio. Ellos reconocieron, como explicó el papa León, que “ninguna muestra de afecto, por pequeña que sea, será olvidada, especialmente si se ofrece a quienes sufren, están solos o necesitados”.
El papa León describió la misión de servicio de los primeros diáconos de la Iglesia, quienes atendían a los necesitados. Luego destacó a algunos de los primeros Padres de la Iglesia – entre ellos los conocidos san Ignacio de Antioquía, san Justino, san Juan Crisóstomo, san Ambrosio y san Agustín – quienes enseñaron con fuerza sobre el servicio a los pobres y la íntima unión entre el amor a Dios y el amor al prójimo.
Esto no puede quedarse en teoría. El papa León continuó describiendo cómo, a lo largo de los siglos, la atención a los enfermos y sufrientes ha estado en el corazón mismo de la Iglesia. Esto se ha realizado tanto por el liderazgo de santos reconocidos como por el amor de tantas religiosas que, de forma anónima, ofrecieron a lo largo de los siglos “consuelo, una escucha atenta, una presencia y, sobre todo, ternura” a quienes estaban bajo su cuidado.
El papa León habló de la generosa hospitalidad ofrecida por quienes viven la vida monástica, guiados por santos como Basilio el Grande, Benito de Nursia y Bernardo de Claraval. Mencionó a los fundadores de órdenes religiosas dedicadas a ayudar a los cautivos y encarcelados, y a sus seguidores cuyos nombres quizá solo Dios recuerda. También resaltó cómo las órdenes franciscanas, dominicas, agustinas y carmelitas abrazaron la pobreza para acercar a otros a Dios.
Más adelante, el papa León mencionó las órdenes fundadas en siglos más recientes para ofrecer educación como una forma particular de ayudar a los necesitados. Nuevamente reconoció el trabajo, a menudo poco valorado, de las mujeres consagradas que dedicaron su vida a esta misión, reconociendo el conocimiento como un “don de Dios y una responsabilidad comunitaria”. De manera similar, reconoció la labor de las órdenes que atienden a los migrantes y de quienes sirven a “los más pobres entre los pobres”. También reconoció a quienes entregaron su vida al servicio de las personas con discapacidades de todo tipo.
Este recorrido por los siglos no es solo una lección de historia; es una invitación a ver este amor radical y compasivo como parte esencial de nuestra fe.
Como “Dilexi Te” es un documento nuevo de un nuevo papa, recibirá mucha atención. Pero más que atención, merece reflexión sobre lo que nos dice a cada uno – no a los demás – que hagamos. En el fondo, nos anima a amar a los demás como Dios nos ha amado, todos los días de nuestra vida ordinaria.
(Lucia A. Silecchia es profesora de Derecho en la Facultad de Derecho Columbus de la Universidad Católica de América. “On Ordinary Times” es una columna quincenal que reflexiona sobre las formas de encontrar lo sagrado en lo sencillo. Puede enviarle un correo electrónico a silecchia@cua.edu).
By Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz, D.D. Let us not forget that we are in the Jubilee of Hope with the pressing invitation to bring the light of the Gospel to every corner of our lives.
Therefore, “with great joy we celebrate October as Respect Life Month amid the church’s Jubilee Year of Hope. This Jubilee Year offers us the opportunity to appreciate anew, and with immense gratitude, the gift of the new life that we have received in baptism, a life capable of transfiguring death’s drama. The life, death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ is the foundation of our hope. Through Christ, our sins are forgiven, death is overcome, and life is victorious,” Bishop George Thomas, USCCB said.
Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz, D.D.
The refrain for the Jubilee Year, “hope does not disappoint” unveils an endless horizon beyond this world while at the same time anchoring us more securely in our daily routines and responsibilities. Because the love of God has been poured into our hearts through faith awakening the dignity of every human person made in God’s image and likeness, the church’s respect for life from the moment of conception to natural death remains unwavering.
May the scales fall from our eyes to see the beauty of life all around us – from the conception and birth of a child, in the daily sacrifices of parents and caregivers who give their all for the well-being of their children, for the blessings of education, recreation, family and community. For the elderly who have borne the heat of the day and who are cared for until the end in the bosom of family or centers of care that accompany the family during the twilight years, we celebrate and give thanks.
“Yet, the daily headlines remind us of how desperately our world is thirsting for the hope that only God can provide. Every day we witness the overwhelming disregard for human life: through rising rates of abortion and assisted suicide; the killing of innocent schoolchildren, even at prayer; the mistreatment of our immigrant sisters and brothers as they endure an environment of aggression; and political and ideological violence inflicted against unsuspecting victims. These attacks threaten life precisely when it is most vulnerable and in need of protection,” Bishop Thomas said.
Despite these realities, the gift of human life exists as a sign of hope to our world today, defying the powers of darkness and the culture of death. Pope Francis in the Bull of Indiction inaugurating the Jubilee Year reminded us that hope is love in action that responds to the suffering at our doorsteps. This life-giving virtue is to be enkindled in the fragile hearts of our youth, in the sick, the forsaken elderly, those in crushing poverty, victims of violence and war, exploited exiles, refugees, and immigrants, and the list goes on.
However, the church and many of its parishes, schools and ministries can and do call down the life of heaven through the power of faith, hope and love. In fact, this is a daily reality, and for this we give thanks.
With regard to respect for life, Pope Leo XIV has cited the emerging power and potential of artificial intelligence, which can be a force for good or evil. In harmony with recent Holy Fathers, Leo has raised up the dignity of the human person at the center of greater solidarity and unity across the globe.
At the second annual international Artificial Intelligence Conference in Rome, during a session intentionally held at the Apostolic Palace of the Vatican, the Holy Father shared the following thought: “Authentic wisdom has more to do with recognizing the true meaning of life, than with the availability of data.”
In this light, the Holy Father expressed his hope that the conference’s deliberations “will also consider AI within the context of the necessary intergenerational apprenticeship that will enable young people to integrate truth into their moral and spiritual life, thus informing their mature decisions and opening the path towards a world of greater solidarity and unity.”
IN EXILE By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI Growing up in a Roman Catholic home, devotions were always a vital part of our religious diet. While our family saw the Eucharist as more important than devotions, we nourished our spiritual lives a lot on devotions, as did many Roman Catholics back then.
Among other things, we prayed the rosary every day, prayed the Angelus daily, prayed special litanies (St. Joseph in March, Mary in May and October, and the Sacred Heart of Jesus in June), prayed the Stations of the Cross each Friday in Lent, were anxious to attend Eucharist on First Fridays and First Saturdays to obtain special promises from God, and said special prayers to obtain indulgences.
Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
As well, there were pilgrimages to Marian shrines for those who could afford them and most everyone wore medals from Lourdes or Fatima and had a special devotion to those shrines (with a special devotion in my own family and parish to Our Lady of the Cape, at Cap De Madeleine, Quebec). Devotions were a big part of our spiritual lives.
What’s to be said about devotions from a theological view and from the view of a culture that mostly distrusts them?
We might begin with the reaction of Martin Luther and the great Protestant reformers. They were fearful of two things in devotions. First, at that time, some devotions were too unbridled and were simply bad theology (famously, selling indulgences). Second, they saw devotions, not as necessarily bad in themselves, but as often displacing Jesus and God’s Word as our center and main focus. And so, they distanced themselves from basically all Roman Catholic devotions, the unbridled as well as the healthy.
For the most part that Protestant and Evangelical distrust of Roman Catholic devotions has come down right to our own day. While that distrust is breaking down today in some non-Roman churches today, it is still the prevalent attitude inside most Protestant and Evangelical circles. In brief, they distrust most devotions because they are seen not just as deflecting our focus from the centrality of Jesus and the Word, but also as potentially unhealthy contaminates, as junk food in our spiritual diet.
What’s to be said about that?
It’s a fair and needed warning to Roman Catholics (and others) who nourish their spiritual lives with devotions. Bottom line, devotions can easily ground themselves on shaky theology and can be a junk food contaminating our spiritual diet: where devotions replace scripture, Mary replaces Jesus as center, and certain ritual practices make God seem like a puppet on a string.
However, that being admitted, as Goethe once said, the dangers of life are many and safety is one of those dangers. Yes, devotions can be a danger, but they can also be a rich healthy supplement in our essential diet of Word and Eucharist.
Here’s how Eric Mascall (the renowned Anglican theologian at Oxford with C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, Dorothy Sayers, and Austin Ferrar) spells out both the danger of devotions and the danger of not having devotions as part of your spiritual life: The protestant reformers (Luther, Calvin, Zwingli) were so afraid of contamination by Roman Catholic devotions, that they put us on a diet of antiseptics. When you’re on a diet of antiseptics, you won’t suffer from food poisoning, but you can suffer from malnutrition.
That’s an equal challenge to both those who practice devotions and those who fear them. The theology undergirding certain devotions admittedly can be sloppy (for example, Mary is not a co-redeemer with Jesus). However, inside many devotions (to Mary, to the saints, to Eucharist adoration, to the Sacred Heart) there can be a rich nutrition which helps nourish the center, namely, God’s Word and the Eucharist.
The late Wendy Wright in her book “Sacred Heart: Gateway to God” makes a wonderful apologia for Catholic devotional practices, particularly devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. For her, Catholic devotional practices are a tradition of the heart. While Jesus remains central and his resurrection remains the real anchor for our faith, devotions can give us something beyond just this raw essential.
Using devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus as an example, she writes: “In this devotion, we, and Jesus and the saints, exist in some essential way outside the chronology of historical time. The tradition of the heart makes this vividly, even grotesquely, clear. The divine–human correspondence is intimate. It is discovered in the flesh. Our fleshy hearts are fitted for all that is beyond flesh by conforming to the heart of Jesus. That divine–human heart is the passageway between earth and heaven. That heart is the tactile tracings of divine love on the created order. That heart is the widest, wildest longing of humankind’s own love.”
The dangers of life are many and safety is one of those dangers. Devotions can deflect us from what’s more central and can take their root in some questionable theology, but they can also, in Wendy Wright’s words, be a blessed passageway for the heart between heaven and earth.
(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a theologian, teacher and award-winning author. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com.)
By Father Nick Adam Father Tristan Stovall, Bishop Joseph Kopacz and I enjoyed a wonderful visit to Notre Dame Seminary in late September for the final faculty evaluation for Will Foggo. Will began his journey through seminary formation back at the very height of the pandemic in August 2020. I was blown away by his courage and perseverance to join the seminary at such a challenging time.
Now, five years later, Will is completing his classwork and, after his evaluation, is officially recommended to be admitted to the Sacrament of Holy Orders. He will be ordained a deacon on Saturday, Nov. 29, at the Cathedral of St. Peter the Apostle at 10:30 a.m., and he will be ordained a priest on Saturday, May 16, 2026 after a six-month period of work as a deacon in a parish.
There are three levels of holy orders: deacon, priest, and bishop. A man must be a deacon before he is ordained a priest, and a priest before he is ordained a bishop. As a deacon, the man is blessed with sacramental grace to act in the person of Christ the servant, while the priest is ordained to act in the person of Christ the priest. The bishop receives the fullness of holy orders and acts as the shepherd of the whole diocese. Of course, bishops and priests don’t ‘stop’ being deacons after ordination. They must lead and sanctify the people with a servant’s heart, and they will need to draw on the graces of the sacrament in order to be faithful to their duty for life.
So, it was a joyful evening at Notre Dame Seminary following Will’s evaluation. We gathered in the ‘Bib,’ short for bibliotheca (Latin for ‘library’), which is the hangout area for the seminarians ‘after hours.’ Father Tristan cooked a wonderful meal that we all enjoyed, and I love seeing our seminarians, veterans and rookies, having a great time together.
I mentioned to the rector of the seminary, Father Josh Rodrigue, who joined us for the meal, that I always dreamed that we could have a gathering like this one. I cherished my time with my own diocesan brothers in the seminary, but to see so many Jackson men together and having a great time gathered around their bishop was very moving to me.
Our discernment groups are launching once again for the fall semester, and the vocation team is inviting men to take part in a group, visit the seminary, or both. My discernment group in Jackson began the first week of October, and I’m planning on taking at least three men down to St. Joseph Abbey to visit the seminary on Columbus Day weekend. Five discernment group participants from last year ended up in the seminary this year, so this is a model of accompaniment that is repeatable and works.
We are focusing this year on encouraging visits to the seminary as they seem to have the greatest impact on the men. I always remind the guys — we do not offer these opportunities to force them to become priests, but we are giving them resources to explore the call. We see potential in them, yes, but they cannot make a free choice for the Lord if they never get to speak to anyone about what priesthood is like or what the seminary entails. Please keep these discerners in your prayers and pray that the Lord continues to bless us with more seminarians who desire, like Will, to be servant leaders in our diocese.
(For more information on vocations, visit jacksonvocations.com or contact Father Nick at nick.adam@jacksondiocese.org.)
FROM THE HERMITAGE By sister alies therese Imagine, if you can, a huge pot of bright red paint – another of yellow. Now picture a pot entirely of orange made by mixing the two. A third space – the coming together of two separate things to make something brand new.
Or see a neighborhood full of people from Peru. Nearby is a neighborhood of people from Appalachia. Two miles away is a neighborhood full of folks from Appalachia and Peru, living side by side, sharing in most things. That becomes a third space – overlapping into a completely new neighborhood.
Some of the characteristics of a third space are people coming together for social connection, creativity and belonging. The concept of “third space” is attributed to sociolinguist Homi K. Bhabha, expressing a theory of identity and community realized through language, though its application has expanded over the years. Sociologist Ray Oldenburg popularized the phrase in 1989 in his book “The Great Good Place,” where he emphasized “their crucial role in civic engagement and social interaction.” In an article for the UNESCO Courier, he defined them as “informal public places where people can gather, socialize and maintain a democracy.”
We can look back in history and discover these spaces, such as trading posts, Greek agoras, Roman forums, medieval taverns or your favorite pub.
What is first or second space, you might ask? First is home; second, work or school. These are the spaces in which you live the most and hopefully find comfort, have your responsibilities and success. But a third space is critical for your well-being, especially your mental health.
These are the overlapping places where what you come from – your routines and practices – lessen, and you enter into another world, so to speak. Here, you socialize with folks unknown to you, who you would consider different from yourself. Alternative spaces are explicitly created to address unmet needs, so local community engagement at a coffee shop (often regularly) or a library lessens loneliness and encourages all people to experience a new sort of connectedness.
There are opportunities to grow in any number of ways, to experience laughter, as well as to listen to others. Community gardens or river walks – all third spaces. Parks, support groups or hairdressers are among the many different types of third places. There are running groups (or walking), book clubs, or my favorites – my place of worship, Sacred Heart Catholic Church; Koty Earl’s, where I frequently eat breakfast; and GIRLFRIENDS, where I engage in art and devotion with other women weekly.
There is, I think, yet another sort of third place, and we see it expressed in the Scriptures. It is not a physical place but a turning of the heart. Consider the stories of the Good Samaritan (Lk 10:25ff) and the tender moment where Jesus from the cross invites John to take Mary into his home (Jn 19:26ff). Both of these bring us into a world of compassion from a world of hurt and challenge us to live differently.
We know both these stories and the worlds of anguish they represent; do we hear the unmet cry for compassion where all is new? Marcel Proust said, “Love is space and time measured by the heart.”
Compassion is a third place we all need to travel to, to learn to live in. We can look about in the other worlds we inhabit, those of social media and political chatter. We can become as brittle as the priest or Levite and pass by the opportunity to grow or be of service, or we can bend down like the Samaritan and discover a neighbor in distress. We can open our homes like John and at the same time receive the gift Mary has to bring.
So, what’s your favorite third space? Is it physical, digital or like compassion, from the heart? Maybe you need to create one. Where will you help connect folks so that compassion might be lived out? What are your unmet needs? What is unmet when you carefully look around?
“Compassion is another name for community. It is the mirror of relatedness that accepts the pain and weakness of another as one’s own. It is an expression of love that says, ‘You belong to me,’” wrote Sister Ilia Delio, OSF, in her book “Compassion.”
In his “Reflections on Life” column, Melvin Arrington explores the parallels between Superman and Jesus – both figures of hope and salvation. Artwork symbolizes the handshake between faith and imagination. (Illustration created using ChatGPT AI image generator)
REFLECTIONS ON LIFE By Melvin Arrington
Our world today seems overpopulated with fictional superheroes of all sorts. Humans, animals, aliens, robots – even something that looks like a monster may, in fact, be a superhero. They appear not only in comics, but also on TV shows, and on the big screen. The various media are saturated with them. What is it about these strange characters that has so captured the public imagination?
When I was a kid growing up in the 1950s, only one superhero captured my imagination, and that was Superman. In addition to being a devoted reader of comic books about the Man of Steel, I was also a huge fan of the popular TV show “The Adventures of Superman,” starring George Reeves. Whenever that program came on, you could always find me glued to the TV set. I was simply enchanted with that “strange visitor from another planet with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men.”
Like many boys my age, I wanted to be like Superman; actually, to be honest, I wanted to be Superman because he could do all kinds of amazing things: he was “faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.” He could also “change the course of mighty rivers” and “bend steel in his bare hands.” But most importantly, he could fly!
I have many wonderful childhood memories of playing with friends on swings. We would all try to see how high we could go. At the highest point I would bail out and, at least for a moment, fly through the air like my hero. Somehow I survived all those “flights” without any broken bones.
Back in those days the City of Jackson also afforded me an opportunity to pretend that I could fly. Do they still send trucks into neighborhoods to spray for mosquitoes? In the 1950s, it was a regular summertime occurrence. Some would ride their bicycles behind the truck, but whenever I saw it coming down our street, I would go get a towel (my makeshift cape), tie it around my neck, dash outside, and run through all that fog with my arms extended in front of me, like I was Superman flying through the clouds. Cumulatively, over several summers, I must have breathed in a truckload of that toxic spray (it was DDT back then). It’s surely a miracle that I made it to adulthood!
So why all this fascination with flying like Superman? Perhaps it’s because that famous superhero fulfills a desire in all of us for the supernatural, a longing to reach for something beyond our grasp. We yearn to escape our earthly limitations and soar upward to God, to the Source of our being. Whether we acknowledge it or not, we all have a hunger for the spiritual, for the infinite, for God; that’s the way the Creator made us. As St. Augustine said, “Our hearts were made for Thee, O Lord, and they are restless until they rest in Thee.” It’s not difficult to see how Superman can serve as a remedy for some of this restlessness. He can satisfy these cravings because he’s a kind of messianic figure, a Christ-like figure.
Superman was created by two 18-year-old Jewish boys in Cleveland, Ohio, in the late 1930s. During that decade Hitler would come to power, establish the Third Reich, and attempt to exterminate the Jews from the face of the earth. At the same time, our country (and the rest of the world) found itself mired in the depths of the Great Depression. The Jews needed a messiah, a savior, to rescue them from annihilation, and Americans needed a heroic figure, if only a fictional one, to lift our spirits. Superman satisfied both needs.
Let’s take a closer look at some of the parallels between Jesus and Superman. We know that the divine Son of God, is omnipotent; there are no limits to what He can do. We also know that the Man of Steel is a “strange visitor from another planet who came to Earth with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men.” Also, Jesus has a human nature and a divine nature, while Superman likewise has two identities: he is Clark Kent, “mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper,” as well as a superhero.
Jor-El is Superman’s father (“El” in Hebrew means “God”). Superman’s real name is Kal-El, and since he is Jor-El’s son, he serves as a type of the Son of God, Jesus, who is also God, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity. Moments before the planet Krypton is destroyed, Jor-El places his only son, baby Kal-El, in a small capsule and sends it out into space headed for the planet Earth. The space ship crashes in farmland in the state of Kansas. Jonathan Kent and his wife, Martha, discover the strange little boy in the wreckage, become his adoptive parents, name him Clark, and raise him in the American heartland.
In the 1978 film “Superman,” Clark is tempted to show off in front of a few kids from his high school by demonstrating some of the marvelous things he can do, but Mr. Kent advises caution, explaining to Clark that there’s a reason he has amazing powers. Clark eventually rises above these temptations, and when he becomes an adult, he leaves the farm, discovers why he was sent to Earth, and goes off to the crime-ridden city of Metropolis to fulfill his purpose: to save people everywhere from the forces of evil.
Similarly, God the Father sent His only Son, Jesus, from heaven to earth to be our redeemer. Our Lord grew up with Mary and his foster father, Joseph, in the backwater town of Nazareth.When it was time to begin His ministry, Jesus left home and went into the wilderness to fast and pray. There, Satan came and offered Him three temptations, but Our Lord refused each one because He had to accomplish the purpose for which He was sent. In Jerusalem, after overcoming another great temptation in the Garden of Gethsemane, He went to Calvary and carried out His mission: to save us from our sins by dying on the Cross, and to defeat death by rising again on the third day.
We, too, should be on a mission. But what is our task? The 4th-century theologian St. Athanasius of Alexandria said, “the Son of God became man so that we might become God.” At first glance that sounds impossible, even though we know that we came from God, and one day we hope to return to Him. Perhaps our mission has something to do with Superman. If children can pretend to be the Man of Steel, why can’t we as adults try to be more like the Son of God?
(Melvin Arrington is a Professor Emeritus of Modern Languages for the University of Mississippi and a member of St. John Oxford.)
While flipping through Bishop Richard Gerow’s Reminiscences I came across a photo he took of the exterior of his home parish church in Mobile. The photo is from the Conti Street side near the rear of the Cathedral Basilica of the Immaculate Conception.
Bishop Gerow grew up in the shadows of the Cathedral in the heart of Downtown Mobile. He was baptized, received first communion, confirmed and ordained a bishop there. His family lived a few blocks from the historic church, and he served Mass there almost daily as a young boy before heading off to college and ultimately seminary in Rome.
An avid photographer, Bishop Gerow took photos throughout his life and his photo collection in our archives has helped document the history of early 1900s Mobile and Rome and all places in between where he travelled. He captured the churches, people, buildings, and other various slices of life in our diocese from 1924 – 1966 during his tenure as chief shepherd in Mississippi.
Photos are essential tools in archival work to document and date the history of a particular time and location through visual images. This is one of the more fun parts of archival research.
This particular photo of the exterior of his beloved Mobile Cathedral shows the beauty of the structure in black and white, but something one would never really notice is a small magnolia tree halfway down the side of the church. The photo dates to around 1910 after Bishop Gerow’s return to Mobile from Rome following his ordination to the priesthood in 1909.
If you travelled to Mobile today, that little starter tree is still there. Now, it rises majestically to the roof line of the church and spreads its massive network of limbs throughout this section of the cathedral gardens.
I have heard many people walking past it wondering aloud how old the tree might be. Because we have the 1910 photo, we can better answer that question by saying it is at least 115.
I took a photo of the tree in September 2023, while I was waiting to be freed from the cathedral garden after I had been locked inside the gate on a Friday afternoon. The light was still good, and I tried to capture the centenarian and its sprawling limbs.
The planter of the tree is long gone and unknown to me. Perhaps there is some record of it in the Mobile archdiocesan archive. This magnolia is a wonderful testament to the proverb that the one who plants a tree for others in the future to enjoy its shade has begun to understand the meaning of life.
That tree has shaded many young men on their way to ordination. It has provided a backdrop for countless marriage proposals in the gardens it towers over. And it provides shade for so many on hot summer days.
The Mobile magnolia has journeyed from a small bundle of potential to a wise elder gracing the grounds of history. Bishop Gerow certainly would be impressed and happy to see it now.
More from Bishop Gerow’s Reminiscences next time. In the meantime, enjoy the shade as we transition into the fall of the year.
(Mary Woodward is Chancellor and Archivist for the Diocese of Jackson.)
MOBILE – A circa 1910 photo taken by Bishop Richard Gerow (above) shows a newly planted magnolia tree, circled in red, outside the Cathedral Basilica of the Immaculate Conception. More than a century later, the same tree (left) now towers to the roofline, shading the cathedral gardens. (Archive photo from the Diocese of Jackson Archives; recent photo by Mary Woodward)
