IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
Several years ago, while teaching a summer course at Seattle University, I had as one of my students, a woman who, while happily married, was unable to conceive a child. She had no illusions about what this meant for her. It bothered her a great deal. She found Mother’s Day very difficult. Among other things, she wrote a well-researched thesis on the concept of barrenness in scripture and developed a retreat on that same theme which she offered at various renewal centers.
Being a celibate whose vows also conscript a certain biological barrenness, I went on one of her weekend retreats, the only male there. It was a powerful group experience, but it took most of the weekend for that to happen. Initially most everyone on the retreat was tentative and shy, not wanting to admit to themselves or others the kind of pain the loss of biological parenthood was creating in their lives. But things broke open on the Saturday night after the group watched a video of a 1990s British film, Secrets and Lies, a subtle but powerful drama about the pain of not having children.
The tears in the movie catalyzed tears within our group and the floodgates opened. Tears began to flow freely and one by one the women began to tell their stories. Then, after the tears and stories had stopped, the atmosphere changed, as if a fog had lifted and a weight had been removed. Lightness set in. Each person in the group had mourned her loss and now each felt a lightness in knowing that one might never have a child and still be a happy person, without denying the pain in that.
Barrenness is not just a term that describes a biological incapacity to have children or a life-choice to not have them. It’s wider. Barrenness describes the universal human condition in its incapacity to be generative in the way it would like and the vacuum and frustration that leaves inside lives. Karl Rahner summarizes that in these words: In the torment of the insufficiency of everything attainable we ultimately learn that here, in this life, all symphonies must remain unfinished.
No matter if we have biological children of our own or not, we still all find ourselves barren in that for none of us is there a finished symphony here on earth. There’s always some barrenness left in our lives and biological barrenness is simply one analogate of that, though arguably the prime one.  None of us die having given birth to all we wanted to in this world.
What do we do in the face of this? Is there an answer? Is there a response that can take us beyond simply gritting our teeth and stoically getting on with it?
There is. The answer is tears. In mid-life and beyond, we need, as Alice Miller normatively suggests in her classic essay, The Drama of the Gifted Child, to mourn so that our very foundations are shaken. Many of our wounds are irreversible and many of our shortcomings are permanent. We will go to our deaths with this incompleteness. Our loss cannot be reversed. But it can be mourned, both what we lost and what we failed to achieve. In that mourning there is freedom.
I have always been struck by the powerful metaphor inside the story of Jephthah’s daughter in the biblical story in the Book of Judges, chapter 11. It captures in an archetypal image the only answer there is, this side of eternity, to barrenness. Condemned to death in the prime of her youth by a foolish vow her father made, she tells her father that she is willing to die on the altar of sacrifice, but only on one condition. She will now die without experiencing either the consummation of marriage or the birthing of children. So she asks her father to give her two months before her death to “mourn her virginity.” Properly mourned, an incomplete life can be both lived in peace and left in peace.
Tears are the answer to barrenness, to all loss and inadequacy.  Marilyn Chandler McEntyre, in her book, A Faithful Farewell, has this to say about tears: “Tears release me into honest sorrow. They release me from the strenuous business of finding words. They release me into a childlike place where I need to be held and find comfort in embrace – in the arms of others and in the arms of God.
Tears release me from the treadmill of anxious thoughts, and even from fear. They release me from the strain of holding them back. Tears are a consent to what is. They wash away, at least for a time, denial and resistance. They allow me to relinquish the self-deceptive notion that I’m in control. Tears dilute resentment and wash away the flotsam left by waves of anger.”
Not insignificantly, tears are salt water. Human life originated in the oceans. Tears connect us to the source of all life on this earth, within which prodigal fecundity trumps all barrenness.
(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser, theologian, teacher and award-winning author, is President of the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio, TX.)

Reflections on Life
Father Jerome LeDoux, SVD
Ironically, by the time we get really good at connecting the everyday dots of life, we see that the span of our life is closer to sunset than to sunrise. This curious twilight phenomenon is a sharp variation or do-over of the axiom, “Youth is wasted on the young.” How many athletes have asked themselves, “How good could I have been as a young athlete in my prime had I known then what I know now as a coach?”
It is of great interest that some of the all-time greats in the world of sports have been described as another coach on the field. In mind-bending fashion, if their stance on the infield was not right for an individual batter, centerfielder Willie Mays signaled to infielders where they should be standing for the tendencies of a batter.
As no other, Willie Mays ran the bases at full speed, looking directly behind in order to direct “traffic,” that is, the runners behind him, to stop at a base or to keep running and take the next base. He did all this while touching only the inside point of a bag as he rounded first, second and third, thus not wasting a fraction of a second. It is no wonder that Willie Mays alone hit two inside-the-park homers to left field.
Coaching is not unique to or proprietary to sports or learning institutions of every kind. Rather, coaching is inherent to any learning situation in every activity, work, profession, entertainment or occupation. Since one can coach a debate team, we know that there is someone somewhere who can coach another to learn and/or execute whatever is at hand or coming down the pike to be done. For instance, one can coach another who aspires to write prose or poetry of various kinds. And we know all too well that lawyers coach their clients to testify in court, enabling them to transcend the dots of legal knowledge by connecting the dots of legal practice.
Coaching sometimes parades under other names, such as being the master to an apprentice who works side by side to see and imitate each technique, move and progression in getting a job or performance done. Thus, the apprentice method of learning is one of the most time-honored in the history of humankind, and, though it has morphed over the centuries, it still retains its luster amid modern technologies.
Highly significant is also the fact that the best coaches do not usually come from the ranks of the superstars and not even from among the better players. Some of the best coaches in baseball in particular did not even earn a spot on a major league team. Superstars such as Ted Williams, who also coached, have a problem relating to the challenges incurred by more pedestrian, journeyman players. They literally don’t know how to connect the practical ballgame dots for mortal players.
This means that great knowledge and skill can be secondary among the assets of a great coach, well behind the coach’s heart and a willingness to learn how to tap into the mind, emotions and heart of the people who are being coached. This is a variant of, “It’s not the dog that’s in the fight; it’s the fight that’s in the dog.” Time after time, we see very journeyman individuals who are world-beaters as a team.
Parents are the first and most basic coaches in life for all of us. This is great when both parents are on the scene, alert and heart-and-soul involved in the physical, mental, emotional, social and spiritual development of children. Mother and father need not be astute or sophisticated if their head and heart are right.
Sadly, it is not an exaggeration to say that most families, especially black families, are partially dysfunctional, and have been growing more dysfunctional each year since the halcyon days of 1964, when 76.4 percent of black families were nuclear – a mark that exceeded even the favored white families of the U.S. Yes, both marital coaches, mama and papa, were working hand in hand to develop each child. Nuclear black families now teeter around 30 percent with the bottom falling out.
So, despite heroic efforts of many single parents, overall horrendous effects are seen in our youth at home, in school and on gang/drug-ridden streets, because Coach Papa is not aiding Coach Mama. Literally, sometimes it is the sports coach at school who adopts clueless children and “fathers”/”mothers” them in the ways of life, gently helping to connect the dots where the home coach is not on the job.
With at times near uncoachable, faltering apostles, Coach Jesus was hands down the greatest of all coaches, holding his crew to the highest standards possible.
Parents, who are our prototeachers, other teachers, spiritual directors, coaches of every kind and at every level need always follow the template, the Man from Galilee, who can and will show us how to connect the dots of life when no one else can.
“God is love, and all who abide in love abide in God and God in them.”   (1 John 4:16)
(Father Jerome LeDoux, SVD, lives in retirement at Sacred Heart Residence in Bay St. Louis. He has written “Reflections on Life since 1969.)

Complete the circle
By George Evans
I have found that advocacy on behalf of the poor and vulnerable for the common good is very difficult for most Mississippi Catholics to embrace as part of their ministry. The U.S. Catholic Bishops have repeatedly urged us to take the Gospels and Catholic social teachings into the market place and the halls of the Legislatures, both state and federal, when issues important to people’s well being present themselves. Pope Francis and his two predecessor popes have used encyclicals of great power to exhort us to such action.
Many of us are not comfortable with contacting our legislators and expressing our support or lack thereof for legislation pending before them. And even more difficult may be suggesting legislation to be introduced. We tend to want to leave those things to other people. Yet we tend at the same time to loudly proclaim the greatness of our democracy and that it was founded on Christian principles. If we believe that then we need to take the time to be heard. There are many issues which need to hear our voices.
All of this has recently come to mind again with the Catholic Day at the Capitol sponsored by Catholic Charities and its Poverty Task Force held on February 11. Much work produced an excellent program attended by approximately 85 people from around Mississippi including both bishops (Jackson and Biloxi) and a good sprinkling of priests and sisters.
Bishop Joseph Kopacz welcomed the participants, stressed the importance of their attendance and reminded them of the remarks of Pope Francis to the U.S. Congress and his call to Christian responsibility for the common good. Bishop Roger Morin presided at the news conference on the south steps of the Capitol after Mass and lunch at St. Peter’s explaining that we were there as Catholics to urge the care and protection of children and the vulnerable as part of our responsibility for the common good.
The issues considered were adequate funding for various programs, including mental health care and the child welfare system in Mississippi. Of particular concern was the state foster care program which has been so poor for years that there is a real and present danger that Judge Tom Lee, a well respected Mississippi federal judge, could possibly decide in a case before him to bring in the federal government to run the foster care program in Mississippi because of the state’s failure to properly provide services necessary to protect and otherwise provide for children placed under its care and to abide by a previous consent order it had entered into years ago in the same case.
Unless significant steps are taken in the current Legislative session Judge Lee may have no choice but to take action which could seriously embarrass the state and adversely affect its economic attractiveness to potential economic development from outside interests.
Speakers at the Cathedral who have had years of involvement with the child welfare system, including two Catholic Charities department heads, told of instance after instance of chronically over worked and grossly underpaid state social workers unable to help foster children as decency requires resulting in the state’s failure to meet basic needs ranging from inadequate health care to frank abuse, both physical and mental and even death in more than one case. The need for help by the Legislature is critical and not optional.
Funding is always a point of contention in funding child welfare programs. This year Governor Phil Bryant has finally taken a lead in responding to the foster care crisis. Perhaps the threat of a federal take over is somewhat responsible and perhaps his best nature is showing itself. Regardless, it is a great time to join in contacting our legislators, particularly our senators and urging them to vote for and support the passage of the foster care funding bill which would provide an additional 34.5 million dollars for the needed additional personnel to help move foster care forward.
We were taught by Matthew Burkhart of Catholic Relief Services in an excellent address at the Feb. 11 meeting that personal contact is the most effective advocacy tool, followed by personal letter, telephone calls, personal emails and form petitions. Please contact your senator and representative and the governor and let them know that you think that the disaster in foster care needs attention and to please pass the foster care bill. What a great way to start as an advocate.
(George Evans is a retired attorney and pastoral minister. He is a member of Jackson St. Richard Parish..)

Joseph Fiennes and Tom Felton star in a scene from the movie “Risen.” The Catholic News Service classification is A-III – adults. The Motion Picture Association of America rating is PG-13 – parents strongly cautioned. Some material may be inappropriate for children under 13. (CNS photo/Columbia Pictures)

By Bishop Robert Barron
When I saw the coming attractions for the new film Risen – which deals with a Roman tribune searching for the body of Jesus after reports of the resurrection – I thought that it would leave the audience in suspense, intrigued but unsure whether these reports were justified or not. I was surprised and delighted to discover that the movie is, in fact, robustly Christian and substantially faithful to the Biblical account of what transpired after the death of Jesus.
My favorite scene shows tribune Clavius (played by the always convincing Joseph Fiennes) bursting into the Upper Room, intent upon arresting Jesus’ most intimate followers. As he takes in the people in the room, he spies Jesus, at whose crucifixion he had presided and whose face in death he had closely examined. But was he seeing straight? Was this even possible? He slinks down to the ground, fascinated, incredulous, wondering, anguished.
As I watched the scene unfold, the camera sweeping across the various faces, I was as puzzled as Clavius: was that really Jesus? It must indeed have been like that for the first witnesses of the Risen One, their confusion and disorientation hinted at in the Scriptures themselves: “They worshipped, but some doubted.” Once Thomas enters the room, embraces his Lord and probes Jesus’ wounds, all doubt, both for Clavius and for the viewer, appropriately enough, is removed.
I especially appreciated this scene, not only because of its clever composition, but because it reminded me of debates that were fashionable in theological circles when I was doing my studies in the 1970’s and 1980’s. Scholars who were skeptical of the bodily facticity of Jesus’ resurrection would pose the question, “What would someone outside of the circle of Jesus’ disciples have seen had he been present at the tomb on Easter morning or in the Upper Room on Easter evening?” The implied answer to the query was “well, nothing.”
The academics posing the question were suggesting that what the Bible calls resurrection designated nothing that took place in the real world, nothing that an objective observer would notice or dispassionate historian recount, but rather an event within the subjectivity of those who remembered the Lord and loved him.
For example, the extremely influential and widely-read Belgian theologian Edward Schillebeeckx opined that, after the death of Jesus, his disciples, reeling in guilt from their cowardice and betrayal of their master, nevertheless felt forgiven by the Lord. This convinced them that, in some sense, he was still alive, and to express this intuition they told evocative stories about the empty tomb and post-resurrection appearances of Jesus.
Roger Haight, a Jesuit theologian of considerable influence, speculated in a similar vein that the resurrection is but a symbolic expression of the disciples’ conviction that Jesus continues to live in the sphere of God. Therefore, Haight taught, belief in the empty tomb or the appearances of the risen Lord is inessential to true resurrection faith.
At a more popular level, James Carroll explained the resurrection as follows: after their master’s death, the disciples sat in a kind of “memory circle” and realized how much Jesus meant to them and how powerful his teaching was and decided that his spirit lives on in them.
The great English Biblical scholar N.T. Wright is particularly good at exposing and de-bunking such nonsense. His principal objection to this sort of speculation is that it is profoundly non-Jewish. When a first century Jew spoke of resurrection, he could not have meant some non-bodily state of affairs. Jews simply didn’t think in the dualist categories dear to Greeks and later to Gnostics. The second problem is that this post-conciliar theologizing is dramatically unhistorical.
Wright argues that, simply on historical grounds, it is practically impossible to explain the rise of the early Christian movement apart from a very objective construal of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead. For a first-century Jew, the clearest possible indication that someone was not the promised Messiah would be his death at the hands of Israel’s enemies, for the unambiguously clear expectation was that the Messiah would conquer and finally deal with the enemies of the nation.
Peter, Paul, James, Andrew, and the rest could have coherently proclaimed – and gone to their deaths defending – a crucified Messiah if and only if he had risen from the dead. Can we really imagine Paul tearing into Athens or Corinth or Ephesus with the breathless message that he found a dead man deeply inspiring or that he and the other Apostles had felt forgiven by a crucified criminal? In the context of that time and place, no one would have taken him seriously.
Risen’s far more reasonable and theologically compelling answer is that, yes indeed, if an outsider and unbeliever burst into the Upper Room when the disciples were experiencing the resurrected Jesus, he would have seen something along with them. Would he have fully grasped what he was seeing? Obviously not. But would the experience have had no objective referent?  Just as obviously not. There is just something tidy, bland, and unthreatening about the subjectivizing interpretations I rehearsed above.
What you sense on every page of the New Testament is that something happened to the first Christians, something so strange and unexpected and compelling that they wanted to tell the whole world about it. Frankly, Risen conveys the edgy novelty, the unnerving reality of the resurrection, better than much contemporary theologizing.
(Bishop Robert Barron is an auxiliary bishop of the Archdiocese of Los Angeles and the founder of Word on Fire Catholic Ministries.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
Many of us, I am sure, have been inspired by the movie, Of Gods and Men, which tells the story of a group of Trappist monks who, after making a painful decision not to flee from the violence in Algeria in the 1990s, are eventually martyred by Islamic extremists in 1996. Recently, I was much inspired by reading the diaries of one of those monks, Christophe Lebreton. Published under the title, “Born from the Gaze of God, The Tibhirine Journal of a Martyr Monk,” his diaries chronicle the last three years of his life and give us an insight into his, and his community’s, decision to remain in Algeria in the face almost certain death.
In one of his journal entries, Christophe shares how in this situation, caught between Islamic extremists on one side and a corrupt government on the other, in seeking ground for hope, he draws upon The Well, by French poet, Jean-Claude Renard:
But how can we affirm it’s already too late
to fulfill the desire-
so patient does the gift remain;
and when always, perhaps, something or
someone says, from the depth of silence and nakedness,
that an ineffable fire continues to dig in us
beneath wastelands peopled by thorns
a well that nothing exhausts.
A well that nothing exhausts. Perhaps that is the real basis for hope.
For all of us there are times in life when we seem to lose hope, when we look at the world or at ourselves and, consciously or unconsciously, think: “It’s too late! This has gone too far! Nothing can redeem this!”
But is this natural, depressive feeling in fact a loss of hope? Not necessarily. Indeed it is precisely when we feel this way, when we have succumbed to the feeling that we have exhausted all of our chances, it’s then that hope can arrive and replace its counterfeits, wishful thinking and natural optimism. What is hope?
We generally confuse hope with either wishful thinking or with natural optimism, both of which have little to do with hope. Wishful thinking has no foundation. We can wish to win a lottery or to have the body of a world-class athlete, but that wish has no reality upon which to draw. It’s pure fantasy. Optimism, for its part, is based upon natural temperament and also has little to do with hope.
Terry Eagleton, in a recent book, “Hope without Optimism,” suggests rather cynically that optimism is simply a natural temperament and an enslaving one at that: “The optimist is chained to cheerfulness.” Moreover, he asserts, that the optimist’s monochrome glaze over the world differs from pessimism only by being monochromatically rosy instead of monochromatically gray. Hope isn’t a wish or a mood; it is a perspective on life that needs to be grounded on a sufficient reality. What is that sufficient reality?
Jim Wallis, a salient figure of Christian hope in our time, says that our hope should not be grounded on what we see on the news of the world each night because that news constantly changes and, on any given night, can be so negative so as to give us little ground for hope. He’s right. Whether the world seems better or worse on a given evening is hardly sufficient cause for us to trust that in the end all will be well. Things might change drastically the next night.
Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, who perennially protested that he was a man of hope rather than of optimism, in an answer to a question, once suggested that there are two sufficient reasons for hope. Asked what would happen if we blew up the world with an atomic bomb, he replied: That would set things back a few million years, but God’s plan for the earth would still come about. Because Christ promised it and, in the resurrection, God shows that God has the power to deliver on that promise. Hope is based on God’s promise and power.
But there is still another reason for our hope, something else that grounds our hope and gives us sufficient reason to live in trust that eventually all will be well, namely, God’s inexhaustibility. Underneath and beneath, our universe, there is a well that nothing exhausts.
God is a prodigal God, almost unimaginable in the scope of physical creation, a God who has created and is still creating billions upon billions of universes. Moreover, this prodigal God, so beyond our imagination in creativity, is, as has been revealed to us by Jesus, equally unimaginable in patience and mercy. There is never an end to our number of chances. There is no limit to God’s patience. There is nothing that can ever exhaust the divine well.
It’s never too late! God’s creativity and mercy are inexhaustible.
(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser, theologian, teacher and award-winning author, is President of the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio, TX.)

Millennial Reflections
By Father Jeremy Tobin, OPraem
Social justice, “This is the fasting I want, releasing those bound unjustly, untying the thongs of the yoke, setting free the oppressed, breaking every yoke.”
Charity, “Sharing your bread with the hungry, sheltering the oppressed and the homeless, clothing the naked when you see them, and not turning your back on your own.” (Is. 58:6-7)
This passage of Isaiah opens up the spirit of Lent. It also resonates in the Gospels. It is what drives the two shoes, the marching feet of the official church to address the conditions of the world, whether natural disasters, wars, disease, whatever. It is not about slogans or talking points, it is about doing.
Matthew Burkhart of Catholic Relief Services used the two shoes model of social justice and charity as our means to effect change. Charity we are familiar with, running soup kitchens, clothing centers, but the social justice part, advocacy to change policy, is less familiar, but we can learn it and do it effectively.
This is a paraphrase of the message we received at the Catholic Day at the Capitol. St. Peter’s hall was filled with dedicated parishioners from the Delta to the Coast, representing many causes. We had dreamers from Our Lady of Fatima in Biloxi, who are seeking justice to regularize their immigration status. Now young men and women, they were brought here as small children, and know no other place as home. They could be deported to the country of their parents, but this is a foreign country to them. We had dedicated people in prison ministry who want to fire up other people to join them, you know, “When I was in prison, did you visit me?”
This session, our Catholic Charities’ Poverty Task Force, decided to focus on mental health and child welfare. Warren Yoder, of Public Policy Center, has for 30 plus years struggling to humanize state laws that impact predominantly the poor and people of color, opened up the “Olivia Y” lawsuit that is threatening to put the entire state child welfare system under federal receivership.
We heard the horror stories of unqualified foster homes, children dying in care, huge unmanageable caseloads, not enough trained workers, etc, etc. No meaningful resolution in sight. We heard Amy Turner and Valerie McClellan of Therapeutic Foster Care and the Solomon Counseling Center speak of the progress broken families are making, but at a most critical time, could be left in limbo, when grant runs out. Money is a huge factor in solving these and other problems.
Warren ended his remarks with a powerful statement of hope, hope that energizes, not weakens, but pushes the cause forward.
When we as Catholics go and meet with legislators we do it from a profound moral position
We heard Father Fred Kammer, SJ, talk about taxation. One major point, taxes should first meet the needs of the most vulnerable and the common good. Human rights must be respected including economic rights.
We must understand that as Catholics we have the largest, most effective means to reach out to the poor and vulnerable. We must be their voice and attempt to make our principles of social justice be reflected in legislation. We need to educate our legislators, and we need to motivate them to put the needs of the weaker members of our state first. As Catholics we have the tools to counter the tired arguments that blame the poor and re-victimize victims.
At the press conference on the Capitol steps, Bishop Morin expressed our point of view well.
We can carry this day with us by forming study groups to look at bills against the principles of Catholic Social Teaching, namely how does such a bill impact the poor and vulnerable? Does it label them or punish them?
We can write letters to the editor. We can visit the Capitol on our own or with others and follow bills. Staff is there to answer basic questions and help you contact legislators. Learn who your own legislators are, and talk to them. Most of all, keep reading more of Catholic Social Justice.
(Father Jeremy Tobin, O.Praem, lives at the Priory of St. Moses the Black, Jackson.)

Kneading Faith
By Fran Lavelle
It’s Lent, people! We all have traditions that surround and mark the season. For many of us, we mark the season with attendance at Stations of the Cross, daily Mass, and joining fellow parishioners for fish fries, going to reconciliation, or giving up our favorite sweet or spirit.  For others, we decide to “take on” a spiritual practice instead of giving something up. There are so many opportunities to make Lent more meaningful. And, in this Jubilee Year of Mercy we really need to take advantage of the season.
Let us not forget that Lent is also a call to a life of prayer, fasting and almsgiving.  We should aim to be transformed by these observances not just putting our “ordinary time” selves on pause.  I’d like to visit with my 30 or 40 year old self on Ash Wednesday and see if there are parts of a younger Fran that I no longer recognize for the better or worse. To be sure I’d encourage younger Fran NOT to give up coffee as no grace came out of that experience for anyone.
In more recent years, I have tried to enter into the season by developing and recognizing opportunities to “be still and know God.” I have found that these opportunities translate into time for more focused prayer.  And, the more I focus on my relationship with God the more I am able to see opportunities for fasting and giving alms.  When I spend that critical quiet time with God I find myself asking what God is asking of me.  What is His will in the various situations and circumstances of my own life?
Thankfully for me the holy season of Lent is also a favorite time at the orchard as it is the time we prune the muscadine vines. The spiritual implications are not lost on me.  With each plant care is given to determine its overall health and to determine how much to prune from each one to maximize growth in the coming fruit season.
I have found great peace in taking my time cutting away last year’s vines and shaping the plant for this year’s growth.  It is a job that one must remain present to the plant as to not butcher it, but one’s mind can wander a bit perhaps noticing the chill in the air, the sounds of farm life beyond the orchard, wild waterfowl, or a distant train horn.
It is during those moments when I am truly connected not only to my task at hand but also to the awesome world God created.
I am present to those who came before me. Our cat Soul Patch often accompanies me in the orchard. She is not only a great companion but an incredible reminder of being present to the moment. I find myself feeling more alive because I am truly present. That’s a lesson Soul Patch has helped me understand as well. Cat lovers easily understand this.
Sometimes I fill the time with pure silence asking only of God to be by my side. At other times I am working through a problem or difficult situation so I talk to God and ask for inspiration. Other times I may open myself up to creativity for ideas for a retreat talk or ministry opportunity.
In my spiritual pruning during the season of lent I am left with the same inevitable question every year. It is a difficult question to ask and even more difficult to respond to. What parts of my life need to be pruned away in order for me to experience new growth in my relationship with God? Over the years, the answer has changed. It seems at this season of my life I am being called to let go of past hurts. In that act of letting go, I am freed to fill that space with forgiveness. When we prune away the things that keep us from true intimacy with God we become free to love more profoundly, forgive more readily, rebuild and restore trust more resolutely, and open ourselves up to new growth.
You don’t need a muscadine vine to open yourself up to the question. One only needs a quiet place to reflect on where God is calling them. I have found in my relationship with God that the most courageous step is in asking the question.  The answer will come and while it may challenge us in the end we will see the wisdom gained.
With each passing year, no matter where I find myself spiritually, I know the time I spend pruning will yield great results in my spiritual life as much as it will provide great growth for that particular plant. May God bless you during this holy season of lent! May your Lenten pruning yield great spiritual growth.  Happy pruning!
(Fran Lavelle is the director of Faith Formation for the Diocese of Jackson.)