Forming our Future
By Bridget Martin
The spring semester generates excitement in our middle school students. The energy in a middle school is electrifying this time of year. End of the year activities keep everyone busy. The group of middle school students producing the greatest amount of energy and excitement is the class embarking on the transition into high school.
Students practice transitions all of the time in school. Some transitions are small like moving from one learning center to another in a classroom. Other transitions are bigger like moving from one grade to the next.
One of the largest transitions for children may be transitioning from middle school into high school. This transition ignites an enthusiasm and strikes a fear in young teens and parents alike. The thought of a new school, new teachers, new friends, and new expectations elicits a range of emotions all at one time.
Interestingly enough, both parents and students feel the same pressure before the transition to high school. I recently asked eighth grade students in my school what concerns them most about transitioning to high school. Then I asked their parents the same question. Students worry whether or not they will make friends. Parents worry about the type of friends they will make in high school. Students worry about the clubs they will join while parents worry about the cost of the clubs. Both were equally concerned about the academic rigor of high school.
Families can be proactive in planning steps to ease the transition to high school. Parents and students need to take steps to prepare for a shift in the types of interactions they have with schools. Researching the programs of a school is important to find the best activities for your child. Parents and students should plan a visit to the high school campus. Some schools require interviews and placement tests while others do not have entrance requirements.
Participation in school orientation sessions provides opportunities to explore the campus and learn expectations. Young teens may appear uninterested in these activities, but only because they are trying to camouflage their nervousness.
Parents and students feel more confident on the first day of class if they know the layout of the campus, expectations of the day, and a familiar face or two. Proper preparation is vital to creating a smooth transition from middle school to high school.
Involvement in high school activities connects students to the school community. One reason high school is exciting is there are so many new opportunities. Activities and clubs provide important academic and social enrichment. Students need a peer group for support during their challenging high school years.
A well-rounded resume that includes participation in various activities and clubs strengthens a student’s applications for college admission and scholarships. Parental encouragement and support promote student participation.
High school brings a new level of academic and social independence for students. This is a difficult adjustment for both parents and students. Parental involvement is still important in high school but the type of involvement is different from elementary and middle school involvement.
Parents more than likely will not continue to assist in classrooms, attend field trips or drive the carpool. Rather, they do need to become a coach for their children on how to appropriately handle situations with teachers independently. Parental support for independence creates a pathway for a student’s success.
Setting expectations for academic progress and social behavior prior to transitioning to high school may alleviate problems in the future. Encouraging students to take responsibility for their own academic growth is important. Students need the self-confidence to take the initiative for seeking help with complicated assignments and in gathering missing assignments. Learning to manage time and accept responsibility is a skill they will use in college and in the work force. While parents should monitor academic progress, it is now time for students to take charge of their own academic affairs.
The transition into high school generates social independence. High school brings together a large cross section of society. Students have more exposure to lifestyle choices. When parents clearly and continually set social expectations by engaging their children in conversations about social responsibility and values, students are more often able to make positive choices.
They must truly understand the value of social justice and responsibility to understand the consequences of their choices.
The promotion from middle school to high school is a milestone for students and parents. This is one of the first transitional moments students clearly understand and remember. The combination of excitement and fear are natural feelings during times of new beginnings. Properly preparing students to handle this transition will be a skill used many times in their lives.
(Bridget Martin is the principal of Southaven Sacred Heart School)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
Something there is that needs a crucifixion. Everything that’s good eventually gets scapegoated and crucified. How? By that curious, perverse dictate somehow innate within human life that assures that there’s always someone or something that cannot leave well enough alone, but, for reasons of its own, must hunt down and lash out at what’s good. What’s good, what’s of God, will always at some point be misunderstood, envied, hated, pursued, falsely accused, and eventually nailed to some cross.
Every body of Christ inevitably suffers the same fate as Jesus: death through misunderstanding, ignorance and jealousy.
But there’s a flipside as well: Resurrection always eventually trumps crucifixion. What’s good eventually triumphs. Thus, while nothing that’s of God will avoid crucifixion, no body of Christ stays in the tomb for long. God always rolls back the stone and, soon enough, new life bursts forth and we see why that original life had to be crucified. (“Wasn’t it necessary that the Christ should so have to suffer and die?”) Resurrection invariably follows crucifixion. Every crucified body will rise again. Our hope takes its root in that.
But how does this happen? Where do we see the resurrection? How do we experience resurrection after a crucifixion?
Scripture is subtle, though clear, on this. Where can we expect to experience resurrection? The gospels tell us that, on the morning of the resurrection, the women-followers of Jesus set out for the tomb of Jesus, carrying spices, expecting to anoint and embalm a dead body. Well-intentioned but misguided, what they find is not a body, but an empty tomb and an angel challenging them with these words: “Why are you looking for the living among the dead? Go instead into Galilee and you will find him there!”
Go instead into Galilee. Why Galilee? What’s Galilee? And how do we get there?
In the gospels, Galilee is not simply a geographical location, a place on a map. It is first of all a place in the heart. As well, Galilee refers to the dream and to the road of discipleship that the disciples once walked with Jesus and to that place and time when their hearts most burned with hope and enthusiasm. And now, after the crucifixion, just when they feel that the dream is dead, that their faith is only fantasy, they are told to go back to the place where it all began: “Go back to Galilee. He will meet you there!”
And they do go back to Galilee, both to the geographical location and to that special place in their hearts where once burned the dream of discipleship. And just as promised, Jesus appears to them. He doesn’t appear exactly as he was before, or as frequently as they would like him to, but he does appear as more than a ghost and a memory.
The Christ that appears to them after the resurrection is in a different modality, but he’s physical enough to eat fish in their presence, real enough to be touched as a human being, and powerful enough to change their lives forever. Ultimately that’s what the resurrection asks us to do: To go back to Galilee, to return to the dream, hope, and discipleship that had once inflamed us but has now been lost through disillusionment.
This parallels what happens on the road to Emmaus in Luke’s gospel, where we are told that on the day of the resurrection, two disciples were walking away from Jerusalem towards Emmaus, with their faces downcast. An entire spirituality could be unpackaged from that simple line: For Luke, Jerusalem means the dream, the hope, and the religious centre from which all is to begin and where ultimately, all is to culminate.
And the disciples are “walking away” from this place, away from their dream, towards Emmaus (Emmaus was a Roman Spa), a place of human comfort, a Las Vegas, or Monte Carlo. Since their dream has been crucified, the disciples are understandably discouraged and are walking away from it, towards some human solace, despairing in their hope: “But we had hoped!”
They never get to Emmaus. Jesus appears to them on the road, reshapes their hope in the light of their disillusionment, and turns them back towards Jerusalem.
That is one of the essential messages of Easter: Whenever we are discouraged in our faith, whenever our hopes seem to be crucified, we need to go back to Galilee and Jerusalem, that is, back to the dream and the road of discipleship that we had embarked upon before things went wrong. The temptation of course, whenever the kingdom doesn’t seem to work, is to abandon discipleship for human consolation, to head off instead for Emmaus, for the consolation of Las Vegas or Monte Carlo.
But, as we know, we never quite get to Las Vegas or Monte Carlo. In one guise or another, Christ always meets us on the road to those places, burns holes in our hearts, explains our latest crucifixion to us, and sends us back – and to our abandoned discipleship. Once there, it all makes sense again.
(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
By Father Jerome LeDoux, SVD
Neatly hidden by huge waterways and bridges some 12 miles from New Orleans via the Barataria exit of the Westbank Expressway, the hamlet of Lafitte lives up to its name as part of the lair of the notorious pirate, Jean Lafitte. Although I have been there several times, the allure and lore of the area have not diminished.
A friend dating back to 1971 during my teaching years at Xavier University in New Orleans, Irishman Father John Ryan invited me to do another revival at his merged Parish of St. Anthony/St. Pius X. With the theme “Dump Anxiety; Welcome Healing and Peace,” we waded into our Saturday Mass version of the revival.
Punctuating picturesque Lafitte, Friday, March 20, marked the first day of spring with a black (new) moon, the third of six supermoons that will occur in 2015.  That moon blocked the sun in a total eclipse in northernmost European countries.
After the Saturday afternoon segment of the St. Anthony/St. Pius X Parish revival, Father John Ryan and I drove to the Sheraton Hotel in New Orleans where I was to be one of the speakers at an event hosted by the New Orleans Black Indians Alliance (NOBIA). “Soiree of Feathers,” Bury the Hatchet, Raise the Flag, was the event held to celebrate a rich and storied New Orleans culture and tradition. Once very territorial and violent, the only tribal competition now is who is “prettier” in dress.
This culture/tradition celebration can be experienced and lived through a single vision, collective work, creativity, self-determination and purpose – almost synonymous with the Nguzo Saba, seven core principles of African Heritage: Umoja (Unity), Kujichagulia (Self-Determination), Ujima (Collective Work/Responsibility), Ujamaa (Cooperative Economics); Nia (Purpose); Kuumba (Creativity); Imani (Faith). These are enunciated in Kwanzaa, celebrated from December 26-January 1.
I urged them to do what the city of Boston did in 1996 with huge success. Sensing that lack of communication and coordinated efforts were impeding efforts to help their violent youth, officials of Boston cobbled together The Boston Strategy To Prevent Youth Violence, an organization that melded parents, schools, churches, police, probation officers, public officials, social service agencies, community organizations – and, yes! street gangs – into close cooperating partners.
So successful was the Boston Strategy in reducing youth violence that in 1997 President Bill Clinton launched a National Anti-gang and Youth Violence Strategy modeled after the Boston Strategy. With our youth running wild in New Orleans, Chicago, Detroit and other cities, it is time to imitate the Boston Strategy.
At the Sunday 11 a.m. Mass, I admired once more the cozy semicircular design of St. Anthony Church, the thrice-flooded concrete floor marked with attractive patina, and the painting of the fish on the floor with the Greek word for fish, serving as an acronym that means Jesus Christ of God Son Savior.
Almost as old as Christianity itself, that fish symbol is found in art and architecture.
Through major hurricanes, most of the people of Lafitte have repaired or rebuilt their homes, but some have moved to higher ground. Thus, after losing a number of church members, Father Ryan is struggling to rebuild membership. If nothing else, his deep Irish faith, sense of mission and humor are in evidence to his parishioners with whom he has a very personal, spiritual relationship.
No matter what the age, condition or locale of an audience is, wrestling with negative stress (anxiety) is a theme that always strikes home, since it is something we all have in common. Public Enemy No. 1 is my personal moniker for negative stress. It sours, ruins and can ultimately destroy all peace of mind, feelings of joy, one’s nerves and – alarmingly – one’s immune system. Once our immune system is destroyed, the way is open for any disease, even cancer, to invade our body.
While there are many contributing factors to negative stress, the very worst of all is guilt/unforgiveness. Sadly, human weakness makes forgiving – even forgiving ourselves – very difficult. Yet, forgiving is the most important thing in life.
Our reward for forgiving each person without exception is enormous: peace of mind, relaxed nerves, joie de vivre, complete healing of body and soul, fulfillment.
(Father Jerome LeDoux, SVD, is pastor of Our Mother of Mercy Parish in Fort Worth, Texas. He has written “Reflections on Life since 1969.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
Raissa Maritain, the philosopher and spiritual writer, died some months after suffering a stroke. During those months she lay in a hospital bed, unable to speak. After her death, her husband, the renowned philosopher, Jacques Maritain, in preparing her journals for publication, wrote these words:
“At a moment when everything collapsed for both of us, followed by four agonizing months, Raissa was walled in herself by a sudden attack of aphasia. Whatever progress she made during several weeks by sheer force of intelligence and will, all deep communication remained cut off. And subsequently, after a relapse, she could barely articulate words. In the supreme battle in which she was engaged, no one on earth could help her, myself no more than anyone else. She preserved the peace of her soul, her full lucidity, her humor, her concern for her friends, the fear of being a trouble to others, and her marvelous smile and the extraordinary light of her wonderful eyes. To everyone who came near her, she invariably gave (and with what astonishing silent generosity during her last two days, when she could only breathe out her love) some sort of impalpable gift which emanated from the mystery in which she was enclosed.”
The emphasis on the last sentence is my own and I highlight it because, I believe, it has something important to say in an age where, more and more, we are coming to believe that euthanasia and various forms of physician-assisted suicide are the humane and compassionate answer to terminal illness.
The case for euthanasia generally revolves around these premises: Suffering devalues human life and euthanasia alleviates that suffering and the ravages of the body and mind that come with that suffering so as to provide a terminally ill person “death with dignity” and death with less suffering. As well, it is argued, that once an illness has so debilitated a person so as to leave him or her in a virtual vegetative state, what is the logic for keeping such a person alive? Once dignity and usefulness are gone, why continue to live?
What’s to be said in response to this? The logic for euthanasia, compassionate in so far as it goes, doesn’t go far enough to consider a number of deeper issues. Dignity and usefulness are huge terms with more dimensions than first meet the eye. In a recent article in America magazine, Jessica Keating highlights some of those deeper issues as she argues against the logic of those who have lauded Brittany Maynard’s (the young woman who captured national attention last year by choosing assisted suicide in the face of a terminal illness) decision to take her own life as “courageous,” “sensible,” and “admirable.”
Keating concedes that, had she not made that decision, Maynard would no doubt have suffered greatly and would in all likelihood eventually been rendered unproductive and unattractive.  But, Keating argues, “she would have been present in a web of relationships. Even if she had fallen unconscious, she likely would have been read to, washed, dressed and kissed. She would have been gently caressed, held and wept over. She would simply have been loved to the end.”
That’s half the argument against euthanasia. The other half reads this way: Not only would she have been loved to the end, but, perhaps more importantly, she would have been actively emitting love until the end. From her ravaged, silent, mostly-unconscious body would have emanated an intangible, but particularly powerful, nurture and love, akin to the powerful life-giving grace that emanated from Jesus broken, naked body on the cross.
We too seldom make this important distinction: We believe that Jesus saved us through his life and through his death, as if these were the same thing. But they are very different: Jesus gave his life for us through his activity, his usefulness, through what he could actively do for us. But he gave his death for us through his passivity, through his helplessness, through the humiliation of his body in death. Jesus gave us his greatest gift precisely during those hours when he couldn’t do anything active for us.
And this isn’t something simply metaphorical and intangible.  Anyone of us who have sat at the bedside of a dying loved one have experienced that in that person’s helplessness and pain he or she is giving us something that he or she couldn’t give us during his or her active life. From that person’s helplessness and pain emanates a power to draw us together as family, a power to intuit and understand deeper things, a deeper appreciation of life, and especially a much deeper recognition of that person’s life and spirit. And this, impalpable gift, as Maritain says, emanates from the mystery of pain, non-utility, and dying in which he or she is enclosed.
In our dying bodies we can give our loved ones something we cannot fully give them when we are healthy and active. Euthanasia is partially blind to the mystery of how love is given.
(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser, theologian, teacher and award-winning author, is President of the Oblate School of Theology in San Antonio, TX.)

Guest Column
Sister Margie Lavonis, CSC
We have a loving and compassionate God and Jesus calls us to practice these virtues in our lives. This is our mission as Christians.  Here are some practical ways to be more holy and compassionate so as to fulfill Christ’s command.
When I was growing up we learned about the corporal and spiritual works of mercy.  They were tools for living a good Christian life. They show us how to be loving and compassionate.
Jesus tells us about the corporal works of mercy in chapter 25 of the Gospel of Matthew.  He challenges us to feed the hungry; to give drink to the thirsty; to clothe the naked; to visit the imprisoned; to shelter the homeless; to visit the sick and to bury the dead. We will be judged by how we do these things.
At first glance we might think that we are rarely presented with opportunities to exercise these many of these good works. But, if we look a little closer, we might be surprised how often we are presented with ways to do some of these actions.  For instance, feeding the hungry and the thirsty does not have to be limited to literal food and water. People have all kinds of hungers and often thirst for many things. A common hunger that we all share is the hunger for love. We can help satisfy that hunger by reaching out to people, especially the lonely and being kind and generous to others when it would be easier not to be involved. Maybe there is someone at work or at a place I volunteer who needs my time and/or friendship. It could even be a family member who I tend to neglect or overlook.
Another hunger that we all share is the hunger to be listened to and have people really care about what we say. This hunger is often so great that some people resort to paying for this service in therapy when all they might really need is a listening ear. Begin by giving your whole attention to people who are speaking to you.
There are also people who thirst for affirmation.  How many times are you presented with opportunities to affirm the gifts of others, to let them know that you notice the good that they do, but never get around to it?
We can also clothe the naked. It might be as easy as opening my closet and deciding I don’t need 20 pairs of slacks and several dresses that I haven’t worn for years. A priest told me that he has a ritual he does every Good Friday. He goes through his clothes and gives away everything he hasn’t worn for the past two years.
The next question is how do we visit the imprisoned?  We don’t have to literally go to prisons or jails. That is good, if the opportunity arises, but there are other ways people can be imprisoned. Maybe I could confront those who are imprisoned by drugs or alcohol or other addictions and encourage them to get help. Another group of “imprisoned” persons are the elderly or disabled who could use a visit, call, or e-mail.
To shelter the homeless might mean volunteering at a shelter. Sometimes you may have opportunities to visit the sick but something holds you back. I may not like hospitals and funeral homes? If so, maybe we can at least send get well or sympathy cards.
Even more challenging are the spiritual works of mercy. They call us to admonish the sinner; to instruct the ignorant; to counsel the doubtful; to comfort the sorrowful; to bear wrongs patiently; to forgive all injuries and to pray for the living and the dead!
At first glance these seem very overwhelming. You may feel hypocritical admonishing a person when I do many things that are not great. One way might be to point out another’s destructive behavior — not in a righteous way but out of true care or by saying something or at least changing the subject when we find ourselves in a negative conversation. To instruct the ignorant might mean sharing my beliefs with people who have little or no knowledge of Christianity. And one way to comfort the sorrowful is to acknowledge their pain and to be there for them.
To bear wrongs patiently is not easy. It takes much strength not to lash out against those who treat us unjustly. Jesus’ command to turn the other cheek is down right hard and takes a lot of practice. A suggestion is to pray for them.
A related spiritual work of mercy is to forgive all injuries, even if we have been hurt deeply. There are times when I have felt this to be impossible. I try to remember what one of my spiritual directors said. Sometimes we are so hurt that we have to pray for the desire to forgive.
Finally, compassionate people express their concern for others in prayer. During these days of Lent it might be helpful to focus on one or two of these works that needs to be strengthened in our lives.
(Sister Lavonis is a freelance writer for the Sisters of the Holy Cross.)

Complete the Circle
By George Evans
A funny thing happened as I started Lent. I was geared to lose substantial weight and started my diet on Monday before Ash Wednesday. Daily Mass after exercise was on the program. Ash Wednesday and Thursday went fine until about 7:30 p.m. when I was overwhelmed with severe stomach pains and related gastro-intestinal problems. I had never had anything like this before. My wife, Carol, called an ambulance and I finally got to the ER at St. Dominic where I lay in the hallway for a while until a treatment room became available.
An IV was finally started (two paramedics had given up because veins seemed to have disappeared due to severe dehydration), merciful morphine was given and finally I went for a CT scan around midnight and they thought I had diverticulitis. By 3 a.m. I reached a room for the rest of a sleepless night. I saw a wonderful hospitalist the next morning and he wasn’t sure of the diagnoses and wanted to watch things. Toward the end of the day he still wasn’t sure and I was still sick and not sure the Lord wasn’t calling me home. He ordered an abdominal sonogram for Saturday morning. That was the trick.
He immediately diagnosed badly infected gall bladder with sepsis and e-coli in the blood stream. I selected a general surgeon from the three on weekend call. He came and agreed wholeheartedly with the internist and got my attention by scheduling surgery for 7:30 a.m. Sunday. I knew they saw something that needed immediate attention. I felt so bad I was pleased with the urgency. I think prayer and desperately clutching the Lord had gotten me to that point.
The surgery went well except the trip to surgery on Sunday morning at 7:30 almost scared me to death because everything was so dark and utterly quiet. I felt like I was going to the morgue and never was so happy to see a surgical nurse and the bright surgical lights on arrival.
The surgical pain upon awakening was very tolerable (laproscopic) and I thanked God again for medical advances and a great surgeon. I still felt terrible otherwise. Sepsis will knock you for a loop. It took another three days in the hospital before I began to feel like a human again. I had eaten nothing but ice chips and a little juice and liquids for six days. After two days I improved enough to go home after a week of hospitalization.
I have now been home a week. I have thought and prayed a lot. I have thanked God, the doctors, health care folks, Father Dan Gallagher and Father Mike O’Brien and other visitors. Even though I hope I am never that sick again, I can honestly say I have had  a positive experience. To be knocked low and down with time to pray and read good commentaries and God stuff is not all bad. To be utterly dependent on God and others brings the Lenten message home with force and reality. To experience the care and concern of health providers and spouse and children is nothing to belittle and helps frame suffering as God may see it. I have never invited suffering and never will but what I experienced I believe will help me in the future to face it again if come it will.
If you have to get sick, Lent is not a bad time for it to happen. The daily scriptures and the wonderful reflections available help improve the closeness with God which the sickness and pain initiate. I share just one example. The Lazarus story is one of my favorites.  The rich man, dressed in purple, and Lazarus, who had lain at his door with his sores, both died.  Lazarus went to the bosom of Abraham and the rich man was in torment begging for help. But what had the rich man done for his punishment.
He had not been mean to Lazarus. He had not kicked him or abused him. He knew who he was. He had simply ignored him. He had not been generous as the biblical tradition that Abraham had exemplified and taught and as Lent brings home to us every year.
Does not this parable challenge us directly to respond to the enormous need we see locally and world wide. In his commentary on this gospel in “This Day,” John Klassen, OSB, abbot of Saint John’s Abbey in Collegeville, Minnesota reflects:
One of the scourges of globalization is the maldistribution of wealth. In 2014 the relief agency Oxfam reported that just one percent of the world’s population now controls nearly half of the planet’s wealth. The study says this tiny slice of humanity controls $110 trillion, or 65  times the total wealth of the poorest 3.5 billion people. In the U.S., the gap between rich and poor has grown at a faster rate than any other developed country: the top one percent captured 95 percent of post-recession  growth (since 2009), while 90 percent of Americans became poorer.
The numbers are staggering. Abbott Klassen  suggests that sometimes we don’t see the needy people in front of us. Sometimes our mental constructs impair our vision, and we don’t help. Is this not reminiscent of the rich man? Maybe if we all first see the needy person in front of us and start by helping him/her then we begin to address the global situation. Back on my feet and close to God by suffering and prayer, and even having lost a few pounds, I hope to start anew.
(George Evans is a pastoral minister at Jackson St. Richard Parish.)