IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
In one of his books on contemplative prayer, Thomas Keating shares with us a line that he occasionally uses in spiritual direction. People come to him, sharing how they used to have a warm and solid sense of God in their lives but now complain that all that warmth and confidence have disappeared and they’re left struggling with belief and struggling to pray as they used to. They feel a deep sense of loss and invariably this is their question: “What’s wrong with me?” Keating’s answer: God is wrong with you!
His answer, in essence, says this: Despite your pain, there is something very right with you. You have moved past being a religious neophyte, past an initiatory stage of religious growth, which was right for you for its time, and are now being led into a deeper, not lesser, faith.
Moreover, that loss of fervor has brought you to a deeper maturity. So, in effect, what you’re asking is this: I used to be quite sure of myself religiously and, no doubt, probably somewhat arrogant and judgmental. I felt I understood God and religion and I looked with some disdain at the world. Then the bottom fell out of my faith and my certainty and I’m now finding myself a lot less sure of myself, considerably more humble, more empathetic, and less judgmental. What’s wrong with me?
Asked in this way, the question answers itself. Clearly that person is growing, not regressing.
Lost is a place too! Christina Crawford wrote those words, describing her own painful journey through darkness into a deeper maturity. To be saved, we have to first realize that we’re lost, and usually some kind of bottom has to fall out of our lives for us to come to that realization. Sometimes there’s no other cure for arrogance and presumption than a painful loss of certitude about our own ideas about God, faith and religion.
John of the Cross suggests that a deeper religious faith begins when, as he puts it, we forced to understand more by not understanding than by understanding. But that can be a very confusing and painful experience that precisely prompts the feeling: What’s wrong with me?
A curious, paradoxical dynamic lies behind this: We tend to confuse faith with our capacity on any given day to conjure up a concept of God and imagine God’s existence. Moreover we think our faith is strongest at those times when we have affective and emotive feelings attached to our imaginations about God.
Our faith feels strongest when bolstered by and inflamed by feelings of fervor. Great spiritual writers will tell us that this stage of fervor is a good stage in our faith, but an initiatory one, one more commonly experienced when we are neophytes. Experience tends to support this.
In the earlier stages of a religious journey it is common to possess strong, affective images and feelings about God. At this stage, our relationship with God parallels the relationship between a couple on their honeymoon. On your honeymoon you have strong emotions and possess a certain certainty about your love, but it’s a place you come home from.
A honeymoon is an initiatory stage in love, a valuable gift, but something that disappears after it has done its work. A honeymoon is not a marriage, though often confused with one. It’s the same with faith; strong imaginative images of God are not faith, though they’re often confused with it.
Strong imaginative images and strong feelings about God are, in the end, just that, images. Wonderful, but images nonetheless, icons. An image is not the reality. An icon can be beautiful and helpful and point us in the right direction, but when mistaken for the reality it becomes an idol.
For this reason, the great spiritual writers tell us that God at certain moments of our spiritual journey “takes away” our certainty and deprives us of all warm, felt feelings in faith.
God does this precisely so that we cannot turn our icons into idols, so that we cannot let the experience of faith get in the way of the end of faith itself, namely, an encounter the reality and person of God.
Mystics such as John of the Cross call this experience of seemingly losing our faith, “a dark night of the soul”. This describes the experience where we used to feel God’s presence with a certain warmth and solidity, but now we feel like God is non-existent and we are left in doubt. This is what Jesus experienced on the cross and this is what Mother Teresa wrote about in her journals.
And while that darkness can be confusing, it can also be maturing: It can help move us from being arrogant, judgmental, religious neophytes to being humble, empathic men and women, living inside a cloud of unknowing, understanding more by not understanding than by understanding, helpfully lost in a darkness we cannot manipulate or control, so as to finally be pushed into genuine faith, hope, and charity.
(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
The events in Paris cry out for a moral response. Our governor refuses to take in Syrian refugees, labels and castigates them as terrorists. When governors declare that they will not allow refugees into their state, or specify what kind of refugee or what religion, they are clearly out of bounds.
Xenophobia and islamophobia are unacceptable responses in dealing with a crisis of this magnitude. A clear understanding of who we are fighting should be expressed. This is not a “state” or even a country, it is a movement driven by hate and murder covered over by fake religion, period. This ISIS group is the next generation of Al Qaida.
The media is largely responsible for ginning up a response of fear in a populace that does not understand just who we are confronting in the Middle East. People do not understands a tactic of mass killing of innocent people as a tactic of war. The fear machine spreads hatred to everyone from the region. Political pandering only makes it worse.
“Everyone who is different could be a terrorist.” This intense hyper-crisis coverage makes people afraid. Initially the polls expressed a favorable response to taking in Syrian refugees, two days later, it is negative.
When people were calmer and could think things through they saw that taking in these families fleeing for their lives was the American thing to do. When the fear machine kicked in, they turned against them. This only feeds ISIS, and provokes more violence.
Again and again it is reported that this is the biggest refugee crisis since World War II. Apparently most people have little to no understanding what they are comparing it to. They were not even born yet. It is a pity that so many are in power who do not have a clue to what this phrase means.
I am saying unequivocally that we are witnessing a mass migration of people fleeing extermination. Their goal is only finding safety by any means necessary. In my religious tradition there is only one response to their plight, only one, provide them safety, security, the means to live and rebuild. Welcome them.
I have been hearing from religious groups all over the country urging us to welcome these refugees as brothers and sisters. They quote Leviticus and Exodus to support their moral imperative to welcome the refugees from the Middle East. I signed petitions. I have joined my voice to theirs. I like Matthew 25, “When I was a stranger, did you welcome me?”
This is our judgment. It is not about how well we provided for our own, or how much wealth we left them. It is not about how we took care of us.
It is not about us. It is Jesus Christ fleeing extermination, will we take him in? To a generation in power for whom World War II, and all its horrors, is but a few pages in a history text, such comparisons are irrelevant. To bring up Middle Eastern friends both Christian and Muslim, to share common gestures of appreciation and friendship, means nothing to these people filled with xenophobia and self-righteousness.
What is needed, and I join my voice to this chorus of righteousness, to the voices of those whose voices are drowned out in blood. We say, “Let these people in!” They are us and we are them. Our country is made up of Muslims and Christians and a whole lot more, so let in our brothers and sisters and their children to our haven of safety. To label them is more than an insult, it is a disgrace. This country, and Mississippi, has shed too much blood over labels. Stop it!
As a Catholic nurtured on our strong tradition of social justice, promulgated by the Likes of Leo XIII, Pius XI, John XXIII, Paul VI, John Paul II, Benedict XVI, and Pope Francis, I can only shout out the louder, standing on solid ground, “Let in the Syrians, the Iraqis, Muslims, Christians, Yazidis, and all.”
They flee a monstrous movement out to destroy them all. We must take them in. Sister Simone Campbell of NETWORK and Nuns on the Bus just texted me, “We need you to help protect and welcome Syrian refugees. Contact your representative.”
A national coalition of faith leaders issued a call to prayer and action to welcome Syrian refugees. This is the right side of history. This is where we should be.
(Editor’s note: The Mississippi Religious Leadership Conference invites all to an interfaith prayer and reconciliation service about the refugee crisis at Fondren Presbyterian Church in Jackson on Sunday, Dec. 6, at 5 p.m.)
(Father Jeremy Tobin, O.Praem, lives at the Priory of St. Moses the Black, Jackson.)

Kneading faith
By Fran Lavelle
As the first Sunday of Advent draws nigh, I am forced to look once again at my priorities and how I am spending my most precious gift – time.  Life is indeed busy. We live in an increasingly more hectic world. For the love of Pete, Christmas merchandise made its debut before Halloween.
The rush is on.  It’s the perfect gift, the perfect tree, the perfect parties, the perfect Christmas card that drives the endless “to do” list. It is a never ending cycle of outdoing ourselves and all those around us.  Pinterest is the work of the devil.  There, I said it. Gone are the simple days of making sugar cookies with the kids. We are now scrambling to the specialty baking store to get supplies to make a Buche de Noel Yule log with meringue mushrooms and marzipan forest creatures. Enough!
It seems I’ve replaced the monastic medieval “O Antiphons” with my own version. Oh, Advent!  How I long to embrace you. Oh Jesus! How I desire to be present as I prepare for the coming of the Infant and anticipate your Second Coming! Oh Lord! How I fear failure, again, as I end up in the busyness of life. Oh, God! To be a hermit or a cloistered nun that I may give you the reverence you deserve. I think you get the picture. I want to enter in to this holy season of Advent really present. I want to truly prepare my heart for Christ’s coming at Christmas.
Here’s the deal, it seems like there is always something in the future that I find myself thinking once it has passed I’ll find the time to really be present to God and where he is leading me. I remember several months ago I had a lot on my “to do” list. I mentioned to a friend that things would slow down after this and that came to pass. He looked at me with great honesty and said, “Fran, you’re always saying that.” The truth in his reply stopped me in my tracks. I am always saying that. Facing a daunting future I proclaimed with only a slight waning conviction, “This year I’m going to make a terrific Advent!”
How can we get off the crazy wheel and realistically make a good Advent this year? Nike says it best, “just do it.” Part of the frustration is that in the midst of all of the chaos we have the power to change how we enter into this season.
We can either do the dash and splash and run ragged from place to place pursuing Holiday perfection or we can limit the number of activities we participate in, scale down the Griswold light display, and dedicate the time each day to sit in prayer and reflection.
There are really wonderful resources available to help us stay focused on our goal. Many parishes provide reflection booklets. If you are looking for other resources there are hundreds online. Here are a few of my favorites:
From the US Conference of Catholic Bishops  (www.usccb.org/prayer-and-worship/liturgical-year/advent/); Catholic Relief Services (www.crsfairtrade.org/advent/);  Ignatian Spirituality  (www.ignatianspirituality.com/advent); and, a great family resource from Catholic Mom (https://catholicmom.com/faith/advent/).
My Advent wreath has lovingly been placed on the dining room table. The book of Advent reflections takes its rightful place next to the wreath. As the days pass I hope to replace my “oh antiphons” with the O Antiphons as the hymn “O come, O come Emmanuel” is sung at the end of each day’s reflection. I will do better because I can do better. I hold the key to remaining present to the present moment this Advent. Please don’t ask me if I am keeping “Christ in Christmas.”
For the next four weeks, I am going to keep Fran in Advent. Staying present to the anticipation of Christmas is a reminder of what we HOPE for. Hope is not for the weak. Hope is for all of us brave enough to place our faith and our trust in something greater than ourselves. Hope is believing in the Infant Jesus. With that hope we will not walk away empty or disappointed. My hope for you is that you find moments of quiet reflection to prepare for Emmanuel, God With Us.
(Fran Lavelle is the director of the Department of Faith Formation for the Diocese of Jackson.)

Guest Column
By Bill Dodds
I don’t know if it’s a good sign or a bad one that lately I’ve been telling myself what I’ve often said to my young grandchildren: “You have to be patient. And how do you become better at being patient? By being patient.” No wonder they don’t like that advice. I don’t like it either.
January marked two years since my wife Monica died. Sometimes, it feels like only yesterday; other times, much longer. And that timeline can shift at any moment, with no apparent regularity or rhythm.
Even before her death there were family, friends and hospice professionals who would ask me if I was going to write about grief. I told them maybe. Not right away. Even then I knew that I knew too little about it. Truth be told, I probably liked not knowing.
That was then. This is now.
Now I’m sure I didn’t know much as I fumbled my way through that first year as a widower – a term that initially had more than a little sting to it. Being a writer, I wanted those 12 months to have a label or a theme. A rookie year. A novitiate. A retreat. A pilgrimage.
A good friend and “veteran” widow of 10 years liked that last one best, and so I’ve focused on looking at it in that way. (As in any situation, “veterans” have a lot of wisdom to offer newcomers.)
A pilgrimage implies movement. I can’t stand still, although some days I spend a good deal of time resting. Grieving can take a surprising amount of energy even when I feel as if I’m accomplishing so little.
I’m making my way through unfamiliar – sometimes foreign – surroundings. Now I write checks for the monthly bills, and, in the evening, the house is quiet.
There are stops, stations, along the way where I pause and pray and consider. Remember and grieve. Realize how my life is still so richly blessed and give thanks. Places that bring tears and places that spark laughter.
I meet people. Some are new pilgrims like me, others are guides who have been on this path for a long time and remember their first few weeks, months, years. All of us have a similar story to tell but each story is unique.
I need daily nourishment. Yes, food for physical health but also professional help and the help of family and friends for emotional and spiritual health. The grace of God through the sacraments and through his presence in others.
Day by day, and night by night, I take step after step. Often small steps. Baby steps. Looking back I can see I’ve traveled some distance. Looking around, I can find myself once again in a spot, in a place, I had visited weeks or months ago. It’s a winding, circling, confusing path, and I don’t know where I’m going even as my faith tells me, tries to assure me, that God is with me every step of the way. He’s leading me and guiding me and this painful journey is important.
My faith. I have to have faith. And how do I become better at having faith? As with patience, it’s by having faith. Rats!
On the Web: The Daily Mass Readings. It’s been comforting in the evening going over the Mass readings for the next day. Find them at the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops website: www.usccb.org/bible/readings.
(Bill Dodds and his late wife, Monica, were founders of the Friends of St. John the Caregiver (www.FSJC.org) and editors of My Daily Visitor magazine. His latest novels are “Pope Bob” and “The World’s Funniest Atheist.” Contact him at Bill-Dodds@YourAgingParent.com.)

Reflections on Life
By Father Jerome LeDoux, SVD
Within minutes after I had completed emailing my latest column, “How many souls do you hope to take with you?,” longtime friend Cherrie Boykins McClelland emailed me back from Vicksburg.
Father LeDoux, thanks so much for the reflections. I truly look forward to reading with joy. My family and I were talking about when we die will we know one another hereafter? All of my siblings and I went to St. Mary’s Catholic school in Vicksburg. We were taught to believe that we would.  However, my son and nieces who were in school at other catholic schools in the 80’s- 90’s were taught differently. Can you tell me which is correct?
Thanks and God continue to bless you,
Cherrie Boykins McClelland
What a dreary thought, that we would not know our mother, father, siblings, other relatives and friends in heaven! Heaven would not be much fun at all without knowing them. And heaven by definition has to be the most fun place ever – far beyond the likes of Disneyworld or even the best and most beautiful nature offers.
1 Corinthians 2:9 says it all, “What eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, and what has not entered the human heart, what God has prepared for those who love him.”
True, the beatific vision of God is the pièce de résistance of heaven, as the dazzling, all-engrossing Transfiguration of Jesus prefigures for us in Matthew 17:2, Jesus “was transfigured before them; his face shone like the sun and clothes became white as light.” When Moses and Elijah appeared conversing with Jesus, Peter, James and John recognized them and called their names. Jesus obviously intended this overwhelming event to be a preview of even more astounding things to come.
It is neither a fluke nor an accident that Jesus associates in a beatific vision atmosphere with “saints” who know him and know one another. The incident infers strongly that all the saints, including us, will be able to converse with Jesus singly and as a group in such a way that we are acting in unison with folks who know us.
Knowing our dear relatives and friends in heaven has to be part of knowing God through the gifts he has given us, of which God’s grace/goodness is shared in and through our loved ones. The Transfiguration of Jesus is clearly giving us a foretaste of what we will experience forever in heaven and likewise a strong image of how we will not be passive in heaven but in communication with Jesus, Moses, Elijah, all the saints of the Old Testament and New Testament with each one of us.
“At present we see indistinctly, as in a mirror, but then face to face. At present I know partially; then I shall know fully, as I am fully known.”
Just in case you do not understand the analogy Paul is using in 1 Corinthians 13:12, mirrors in his day were not clear like our mirrors, but rather distorted and dim, because they were made of polished bronze. Paul is not touting his solitary joy in heaven, but his ecstasy that will be shared by the Corinthians and all of us who, just as Paul, will know God, Jesus et al fully as we are fully known by them.
Heart-stopping Revelation 7:9-10 presents a throng with evident awareness both of themselves and of each other, “I had a vision of a great multitude, which no one could count, from every nation, race, people and tongue. They stood before the throne and before the Lamb… They cried out in a loud voice: ‘Salvation comes from our God, who is seated on the throne, and from the Lamb!’”
Do we have to bring back the revered Baltimore Catechism? It seems that some modern religion teachers with new-fangled teaching methods are teaching a lot of nothing or, worse, a lot of nonsense and plain garbage. Teaching that we will not know one another in heaven is distinctly not Catholic/Christian at all.
Certainly, strongest of all is our role as vital members of the Mystical Body of  Christ, as Paul explains in Romans 12:4-5, “As in one body we have many parts, and all the parts do not have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ and individually parts of one another.”
And 1 Corinthians 12:12-13, “As a body is one though it has many parts, and all the parts of the body, though many, are one body, so also Christ. For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body… and we were all given to drink of one Spirit.”
We find the same intoxicating reality in Ephesians 4:1-6, 15-16. The best way of knowing one another in heaven will be as joyful members of the Mystical Body of Christ, totally engaged as “one body in Christ and individually parts of one another.”
(Father Jerome LeDoux, SVD, lives at Sacred Heart Residence in Bay St. Louis. He has written “Reflections on Life since 1969.)