Reflections on Life
By Melvin Arrington
Pope Francis has recognized 2025 as a Holy Year, a Jubilee Year of Hope. In 2025 we, as “pilgrims of hope,” are called to renew ourselves, to transform ourselves into all that God wants us to be.

As Christians we have reasons to be hopeful. First and foremost, we are made in the image of God, and He has chosen us to be His adopted children. He has given us meaning and purpose for our lives. And He has promised that we will spend all eternity in heaven if we remain faithful to Him.

According to the Catechism, hope, like faith and charity, the other two theological virtues, is “infused by God into the souls of the faithful to make them capable of acting as His children and of meriting eternal life.” (CCC 1813) “Infused,” as my handy little Catholic Dictionary states, means that God, through His grace, imparts hope to the soul; it’s not something we can acquire through our own efforts other than our willingness to receive it.

Because this connection between grace and hope in the life of Christians has interesting parallels with the growth process in plants, I’m going to examine some of these correspondences. Joseph Campbell, considered the leading authority on mythology, argues that a type of consciousness operates not just in humans but in all forms of life, including plants. For him, the vine that wraps itself around a tree and the leaf that opens and turns toward the sun, an activity we call heliotropism, illustrate the existence of a plant consciousness.

Although Campbell makes a compelling argument, I prefer a different approach to this subject. Weeks ago, a winter storm brought a record snowfall and near single-digit temperatures to our part of the state. As I was out walking, I noticed near the sidewalk a row of tiny green shoots powerfully pushing upward, just beginning to break through the rock-hard surface of the ground. How could this be, given the frozen ground? But there they were! Although revealing less than a centimeter of their tips, they were bursting forth with determination and confidence.

God has put in place all the elements plant life requires to flourish. Nurtured by these graces – sunshine, rain and nutrients in the ground – the little shoots will continue their journey upward and will fulfill their purpose by turning into full-grown plants. And before long the color green, which stands for life, growth and, ultimately, hope, will be all around us again!

Interestingly, the way vegetation emerges has a direct application to Christian life and serves as a metaphor for the Catholic view of hope. Like the green shoots, we are on an upward journey. We, too, are confident of renewal and advancement in the faith, nourished by God’s grace. We, too, have the goal of blossoming and becoming what we were intended to be: mature, Christ-like servants. And because green also signifies Ordinary Time, the long period of maturation in the spiritual life, we’ll see it more than any other color during the liturgical year as a constant reminder of what we’re striving for.

The Catechism defines hope as “the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ’s promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit.” (CCC 1817) In other words, it’s much more than just the desire or wish for something; for example, that there will be something good to watch on TV, or that my team will make the playoffs, or that my utility bills will be lower, etc. These wishes may or may not come to pass. The Catholic understanding of this virtue, however, deals with eternal things; it goes well beyond mere desire to include “the confident expectation of divine blessing.” (CCC 2090)

Hope encompasses a firm belief that God will keep His promises to us, so we have to make sure that we honor our commitment to Him and not presume on His mercy: “Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful.” (Hebrews 10:23)

What kinds of things should we as pilgrims of hope do during this Jubilee Year? I heartily recommend consulting the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) website, which contains a wealth of information for the Holy Year. But if a pilgrimage is not feasible, several other opportunities for personal renewal are readily available. Maybe this is the year for taking a deep dive into God’s Word, or for making more frequent visits to the Blessed Sacrament, or for committing to praying a nightly rosary. Whatever we pledge to do, let’s not forget to give thanks for the amazing gift of hope, which “does not disappoint us because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” (Romans 5:5)

(Melvin Arrington is a Professor Emeritus of Modern Languages for the University of Mississippi and a member of St. John Oxford.)

CALL TO HOLINESS
By Jaymie Stuart Wolfe
Black History Month is officially observed every February, but there’s something unfortunate about that. Don’t get me wrong: it’s great to recognize the contributions of Black Americans. But dedicating a specific month to doing so seems to have had the unintended side effect of limiting the recognition they’ve earned to a paltry 28 days of the year.

In New Orleans, the gifts of Black Americans are more visible than in other places. Flavorful food, soulful music, deep community and lively joy: nearly everything both locals and visitors love about our city has roots in Black culture beautifully expressed.

Louisiana’s story of colonialism, race and culture is unique and complex. And as it turns out, African American history is not merely synonymous with the history of slavery. New Orleans bears the tragic distinction of having had the largest slave market in North America. But at the same time, the city was also home to the largest community of free Black people.

Most free people of color were French-speaking Catholics; some arrived in New Orleans already free, others purchased their freedom or acquired it through government or military service or manumission.

A middle class of merchants and artisans, free people of color attended school, owned property, and were able to build generational wealth. By 1810, 29% of the city’s population was free people of color. They lost many of the freedoms they had enjoyed under French and Spanish rule when the United States purchased Louisiana in 1803. Nevertheless, this thriving community had a lasting impact on New Orleans and well beyond it.

As restrictions increased and the imposition of Americanized racial policies took hold in the 1830s and ‘40s, free people of color created their own religious, cultural, mutual aid and educational institutions. Their examples are inspiring.

When Henriette Delille (1812–1862) had a religious experience at the age of 24, she believed that God was calling her to religious life. Although she was well educated and had been born free, women of color were disqualified from joining the established orders. Instead, Henriette and seven other young women founded a community that later became known as the Sisters of the Holy Family. Permitted to take only private vows and prohibited from wearing a habit, the sisters cared for the sick, helped the poor, taught both free and enslaved children. Taking elderly women into their home, they established the first Catholic nursing home in the United States. Mother Henriette’s influence is still felt here. She was declared venerable in 2010.

Eugène Warburg (1825–1859) was born into slavery but was freed as a young child by his Jewish father. He apprenticed as a marble cutter under a French artist, then established his own sculpture studio in the French Quarter. Warburg earned commissions for religious statuary, portraits and gravestones. The checkered marble floor he designed and created for the expansion and beautification of St. Louis Cathedral in 1850 still testifies to the quality and precision of his work.

A fourth-generation free man of color, Edmond Déde (1827–1901) began playing the clarinet as a child, then quickly moved to violin. He was considered a musical prodigy. Working as a cigar-maker to earn his passage to Europe, Dédé enjoyed a successful music career in France. He composed many pieces of classical music and is the first African American to compose a full-scale opera. “Music from Morgiane” debuted in 2025 at St. Louis Cathedral, where Dédé was baptized.

Homère Plessy (1862–1925), a French-speaking free man of color, grew up during Reconstruction, when Louisiana schools were racially integrated, Black men were able to vote, interracial marriage was legal, and more than 200 Black men held elected office. A lifelong member of St. Augustine Catholic Church, Plessy became politically active when Louisiana began passing Jim Crow legislation. Plessy challenged segregation laws with an act of civil disobedience. He is best known as the unsuccessful plaintiff in the famous Supreme Court decision Plessy v. Ferguson which established the “separate but equal” legal doctrine that was ultimately overturned in 1954.

The lives of these four free, Black, French-speaking Catholics from 19th-century New Orleans are worthy of our attention. The nobility of their enduring contributions to American society, despite the difficulties they faced as people of color, is nothing less than miraculous.

(Jaymie Stuart Wolfe is a sinner, Catholic convert, freelance writer and editor, musician, speaker, pet-aholic, wife and mom of eight grown children, loving life in New Orleans.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
There is nothing as psychologically and morally dangerous as lying, as denying the truth. Jesus warns us that we can commit a sin that is unforgivable which (in his words) is a blaspheme against the Holy Spirit.
What is this sin? Why is it unforgivable? And how is it linked to not telling the truth?

This is the context where Jesus gives us this warning. He had just cast out a demon and some of the people who had witnessed this believed, as a hard religious doctrine, that only someone who came from God could cast out a demon. But they hated Jesus, so seeing him cast out a demon was a very inconvenient truth, so inconvenient in fact that they chose to deny what they had just seen with their own eyes. And so, against everything they knew to be true, they affirmed instead that Jesus had cast out the demon by Beelzebub, the prince of demons. They knew better. They knew that they were denying the truth.

Jesus’ first response was to try to make them see their lie. He appeals to logic, arguing that if Beelzebub, the prince of demons, is casting out demons, then Satan’s house is divided against itself and will eventually fall. But they persist in their lie. It’s then, in that specific context, that Jesus utters his warning about the danger of committing a sin that cannot be forgiven because it blasphemes the Holy Spirit.
In essence, what’s in this warning?

The people whom Jesus addressed had denied a reality that they had just seen with their own eyes because it was too difficult for them to accept its truth. So, they denied its truth, fully aware that they were lying.

Well, the first lie we tell is not so dangerous because we still know we are lying. The danger is that if we persist in that lie and continue to deny (and lie) we can reach a point where we believe the lie, see it as truth, and see truth as falsehood. Perversion is then seen as virtue, and the sin becomes unforgivable, not because forgiveness is withheld, but because we no longer believe we need forgiveness, nor in fact do we want it or remain open to receive it.

Whenever we lie or in any way deny the truth, we begin to warp our conscience and if we persist in this, eventually we will (and this is not too strong a phrase) pervert our soul so that for us falsehood looks like truth, darkness looks like light, and hell looks like heaven.

Hell is never a nasty surprise waiting for a basically honest, happy person. Hell can only be the full flowering of a long, sustained dishonesty where we have denied reality for so long that we now see dishonesty as truth. There isn’t anyone in hell who is repentant and wishing he or she had another chance to live and die in grace. If there is anyone in hell, that person, no matter his or her private misery, is feeling smug and looking with a certain disdain on the naivete of those who are honest, those in heaven.
And how is that a “blaspheme against the Holy Spirit”?

In his letter to the Galatians, St. Paul lays out two fundamental ways we can live our lives. We can live outside of God’s spirit. We do that whenever we are living in infidelity, idolatry, hatred, factionalism and dishonesty. And lying is what takes us there. Conversely, we live inside God’s spirit, the Holy Spirit, whenever we are living in charity, joy, peace, patience, goodness, longsuffering, fidelity, gentleness and chastity. And we live inside these whenever we are honest. Thus, whenever we lie, whenever we deny reality, whenever we deny truth, we are (in effect and in reality) stepping outside of God’s spirit, blaspheming that spirit by disdaining it.

Satan is the prince of lies. That’s why the biggest danger in our world is the amount of lies, disinformation, misinformation and flat-out denial of reality that’s present most everywhere today – whenever, it seems, we don’t find the truth to our liking. There is nothing more destructive and dangerous to the health of our souls, the possibility of creating community among ourselves, the future of our planet, and our own sanity, than the flat-out denial of the truth of something that has happened.

When reality is denied: when a fact of history is rewritten to expunge a painful truth; when you are told that something you witnessed with your own eyes didn’t happen; when someone says, the holocaust didn’t happen; when someone says there never was slavery in this country; or when someone says no kids died at Sandy Hook, that doesn’t just dishonor millions of people, it plays on the sanity of a whole culture.
When something has happened and is subsequently denied, that doesn’t just make a mockery of truth, it plays havoc with our sanity, not least with the one who is telling the lie.

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a theologian, teacher and award-winning author. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com.)

KNEADING FAITH
By Fran Lavelle
I spent nearly every day of my Christmas holiday taking walks with our dog Pickles. She enthusiastically enters the woods and searches for things unseen. Her curiosity has inspired me to look at things from a different perspective. In a recent walk, as the sun was setting, I was reminded of a St. John of the Cross quote, “In the evening of our lives we will be judged on love alone.” That quote has haunted and comforted me for decades. As I approach the ”evening” of my life I am questioning how well do I love?

We are taught that there are three types of love: eros (romantic love), philia (friendship love) and agape (selfless, unconditional love). Agape is considered the highest form of love as it is associated with God’s love for humanity. When we hear a call to love in the Gospels, Jesus is referring to agape. The question is how do we practice this kind of radical love for all people at all times? Eros and philia are much easier. It is easy to love the people who love you, look like you, pray like you or vote like you. The rubber really meets the road when we are asked to love others just because they too are God’s beloved.

I do an exercise in my retreat ministry using 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 exchanging the word love with our name.

4 __________is patient, is kind. He/she is not jealous, he/she is not pompous, he/she is not inflated, 5 __________is not rude, he/she does not seek his/her own interests, he/she is not quick-tempered, __________ does not brood over injury, 6 __________ does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. 7 __________ bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 8 __________ never fails …

This exercise is not meant to shame or blame but to open our hearts in asking the questions. Am I patient and kind? Am I not jealous, pompous? Inflated? Rude or seeking my own interest? Quick tempered or brooding over injury? Rejoicing in wrongdoing? Do I bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, endure all things? It is a tall order. And it is not one and done. It is a daily practice, a way to be aware of how we are growing in our love of God. I am reminded of an old Confucious saying, “We cannot eat the elephant in one bite, but we can eat the elephant.” We can grow in agape love, one day at a time.

St. Paul tells us that these three remain after all else is gone, faith, hope and love, and that the greatest of these is love. The love that St. Paul is pointing to is agape love. It is a deepening of our love for God and in doing so our love of others.

My husband reminds me that love is a verb. For it to bear fruit love must be lived out in our actions. Our actions, big and little, seen and unseen, are leaven that deepens our capacity to love. The attempts of social media and other mass communication outlets to deepen the divide between “us and them” only serves diminish agape love.

Dorothy Day said, “I can only love God to the extent I love my enemy,” meaning that the depth of one’s love for God can be measured by how much they love the person they find most difficult to love. Thanks to my daily walks with Pickles, I have been making a list of the things and, yes, even the people I find difficult to love. I am reflecting on 1 Corinthians 13:4-8. I am trying to see more and judge less. I am working not just to be found favorable in the evening of my life, but to change the narrative of popular culture. Hatred comes at a heavy cost.

“What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has the eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men. That is what love looks like.” (St. Augustine)

Love is the subject of novels, the title of great songs and the desire of every heart. Love is heroic and virtuous. Love is always reaching in, to pour out. Love is a verb. Love is the choice we make when confronted with the people and things we are in opposition to. Tina Turner once questioned, “What’s love got to do with it?” As the evening approaches, I can say for certain – everything, dear sister, everything.

(Fran Lavelle is the Director of Faith Formation for the Diocese of Jackson.)

IT IS GOOD
By Elizabeth Scalia
How could there not be enough water available to fire hydrants?

Why are controlled fires and routine brush clearing not part of normal maintenance in such a fire-prone area?

Who will be held accountable for lapses in fire preparedness and crisis readiness?

The questions came fast, and they were furious, as we all watched one of the most beautiful, desirable living spaces in the United States burn down to rubble over a matter of hours, and then days, and then through an entire week.

Multiple fires sprang up; the Santa Ana winds (and additional wind force created by the fire-heated air) moved the blazes along in a most terrifying fashion, and one could not watch the traumatized families, or view images of an area bigger than the island of Manhattan reduced to utter rubble so completely without feeling true heartache for those whose lives have been so completely upended.

Fred Rogers, of “Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood” famously advised his young viewers to “look for the helpers” when chaotic things begin to happen, and it was heartening to log on to social media and find the incredible people moving quickly to offer assistance, however they could. Within a day of the fire Chef Andrew Gruel (@ChefGruel) and his wife Lauren (@LaurenGruel) posted to the “X” platform that their restaurant’s huge parking lot would be open to the dislocated: “You can stay as long as you need and camp out. We will provide free meals for all of those affected.”

After that, they quickly began coordinating with others. Almost overnight, people began to arrive with relief supplies – food, clothing, baby formula, diapers, pet food, hygiene products and more.

Then the Amazon delivery trucks appeared as people throughout the country, eager to do what they could to help, used the shopping service to send what they could. The daily postings of the Gruels, (and other small local businesses) showing the donations, the foods, the vans and the helping hands of friends, family and associates as they continually deliver all of it where needed, have been a source of real inspiration. There is a sense of not just purpose but real joy evident in their posts; it’s the sort of joy that comes when people are selflessly helping others, joining with strangers to build up what has been torn down.

Rebuilding homes and infrastructure will be on the shoulders of others – and that for years to come – but the locals who have taken it upon themselves to coordinate relief to the afflicted have been sustaining the human spirit, so easily wounded and brought low. They’ve been helping people by rebuilding hope, one meal, one package of supplies, one crate of baby formula and binkies at a time.

We have only just begun the Year of Hope proclaimed by Pope Francis in this time of Jubilee, and these scenes have helped me to define the whole concept of “hope” away from any vague platitudes I might have been tempted to in my prayers or my work.

One of the most perfect descriptions of hope ever written comes to us from Emily Dickinson:
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all

The act of sustaining hope in our sisters and brothers when they are in need is no easy thing. It is heroic, but even more, it is noble in the way that great and honorable acts are so often predicated upon the tiniest things and the littlest ways – small acts of humanity and love-of-neighbor that arise organically and instinctively, that come without press releases and last more than 15 minutes.

Sustaining hope is something remarkable within humanity, and the Holy Father is right to encourage people of faith to think about hope, learn to recognize hope and be givers of hope.

The devastation of the fires of Los Angeles is teaching us many things about preparedness, management and even about leadership and the value of a two-party system. It is also teaching us about how easy it is to look outside of our own comforts and be generous, especially where we see real need.

Experienced firefighters tell us that the best way to fight a fire is by using an intentionally created and directed blaze to snuff out an advancing conflagration. Perhaps we need to kindle small fires of hope throughout 2025 – this already challenging year – in the small places where we live, in our families and our communities and beyond – and let the flames of constructive hopefulness meet and defeat the infernos of suspicion, malice, distrust and hate that are, undeniably, raging all around us.

(Elizabeth Scalia is editor at large for OSV. Follow her on X (formerly known as Twitter) @theanchoress.sity of America’s Columbus School of Law.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
We crave few things as deeply as self-expression and recognition. We have an irrepressible need to express ourselves, be known, recognized, understood and seen by others as unique, gifted and significant. A heart that is unknown, unappreciated in its depth, lacking in meaningful self-expression and recognition, is prone to restlessness, frustration and bitterness. And, truth be told, self-expression is difficult and full self-expression is impossible.

In the end, for most of us, our lives are always smaller than our needs and our dreams, no matter where we live or what we accomplish. In our daydreams each of us would like to be famous, the renowned writer, the graceful ballerina, the admired athlete, the movie star, the cover girl, the renowned scholar, the Nobel Prize winner, the household name; but in the end, most of us remain just another unknown, living among other unknowns, collecting an occasional autograph.

And so, our lives can seem too small for us. We feel ourselves as extraordinary, forever trapped inside the mundane, even as there is something inside us that still seeks expression, that still seeks recognition, and that feels that something precious inside us is living and dying in futility. In truth, seen only from the perspective of this world, much of what is precious, unique and rich, seemingly is living and dying in futility. Only a rare few achieve satisfying self-expression and recognition.

There’s a certain martyrdom in this. Iris Murdoch once said: “Art has its martyrs, not the least of which are those who have preserved their silence.” Lack of self-expression, whether chosen or imposed by circumstances, is a real death; but like all deaths it can be understood and appropriated in very different ways.

If it is accepted unhappily as tragic, it leads to bitterness and a broken spirit. If, however, it is understood and appropriated in faith as an invitation to be a hidden cell inside the Body of Christ and the human family, to anonymously provide sustenance and health to the overall body, it can lead to restfulness, gratitude and sense of significance that lays the axe to the roots of our frustration, disappointment, depression and bitterness.

I say this because much of what gives us life and sustains us in our lives has not been provided by the rich and famous, the high achievers and those to whom history gives credit. As George Eliot points out, we don’t need to do great things that leave a big mark in human history because “the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life and rest in unvisited tombs.”

Well said. History bears this out. I think, for instance, of Therese of Lisieux who lived out her life in obscurity in a little convent tucked away in rural France, who when she died at age 24, was probably known by fewer than 100 people. In terms of how we assess things in this world she accomplished very little, nothing in terms of outstanding achievement or visible contribution. She entered the convent at age fifteen and spent the years until her early death doing menial things in the laundry, kitchen and garden inside her obscure convent. The only tangible possession she left behind was a diary, a personal journal with bad spelling, which told the story of her family, her upbringing and what she experienced during her last months in palliative care as she faced death.

But what she did leave behind is something that has made her a figure who is now renowned around the world, both inside and outside of faith circles. Her little private journal, The Story of a Soul, has touched millions of lives, despite its bad spelling (which had to be corrected by her sisters after her death).

What gives her little journal its unique power to touch hearts is that it chronicles what was happening inside the privacy of her own soul during all those years when she was hidden away and unknown, as child and as a nun. What she records in the story of her soul is that she, fully aware of her own uniqueness and preciousness, could unbegrudgingly give that all over in faith because she trusted that her gifts and talents were working silently (and powerfully) inside a mystical (though real, organic) body, the Body of Christ and of humanity. She understood herself as a cell inside a living body, giving over what was precious and unique inside her for the good of the world.

Anonymity offers us this invitation. There is no greater work of art that one can give to the world.
Jesus said as much. He told us to do our good deeds in secret and not let our left hand (and our neighbors and the world) know what our right hand is doing.

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a theologian, teacher and award-winning author. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com.)

THINGS OLD AND NEW
By Ruth Powers
The new year is the traditional time for taking stock and making resolutions for positive change. In addition to the usual things like lose weight, get more exercise, and the like, some of us may have made a decision to try to focus on improving the spiritual aspect of our lives. In this era when so many people say that they are “spiritual but not religious,” we may begin to wonder exactly what “spirituality” is, and furthermore, is there a specifically Catholic spirituality.

In its broadest definition spirituality is the combination of praying and living. It is the way in which our relationship with God plays out in our day to day lives and informs our life choices. Most people think of spirituality in terms of one’s private relationship with God, a view strongly influenced by Protestant ideas of spirituality. However, in Catholicism it also includes our acts of public group worship specifically the Mass and the Divine Office (Liturgy of Hours), both of which are meant to unite us in the worship of God.

Another thing to understand is that it isn’t correct to refer to spirituality as if it is a single approach to the Catholic relationship with God and prayer. Instead, it is more appropriate to speak of “spiritualities” – ways of relating to God that grew out of different communities at different periods of the church’s history. Some faded away or developed into other forms. Others have stood the test of time and continue to be important today. (More on this below.) They do all have one very important thing in common: Christ is the center and model of any true approach to spirituality.

Jesus is the focus of all true Christian Spirituality. Jesus Christ, God’s only begotten Son and second person of the Trinity, took on our humanity in order to redeem us from our fallen state caused by the disobedience of our first parents. As a result of this disobedience, we are born “good but wounded” (different from Protestant viewpoint that we are born depraved) and Jesus came to make it possible for us to be healed of this wound by God’s grace.

Throughout his ministry Jesus spoke about his mission being to accomplish the will of the Father. That was his sole focus. (John 5:19,30 and John 6:38) Since authentic Catholic spirituality also asks us to imitate Jesus, it centers on the process of surrendering one’s own will to the will of God, and daily seeking to know and accomplish God’s will rather than our own. In knowing and accomplishing God’s will, we find the ultimate source of purpose and life. (Matthew 7:21 and John 6:40) Any form of prayer or spiritual devotion that does not ultimately lead us to Christ, whether it be Marian devotion, devotion to one of the Saints, or whatever, is a false spirituality.

There are many approaches to spirituality accepted by the church. Different people may respond better to one approach or the other, or some combination of approaches. Below is an overview of just three examples of well-known spiritual schools within the broader range of Catholic spirituality.

Monastic/Ascetic Spirituality – This approach is most often associated with St. Benedict, but its roots actually go back into the early days of the church when the Desert Fathers removed themselves from the temptations of society in order to concentrate their whole lives on prayer, study of scripture and union with God. Some characteristics of monastic/ascetic spirituality include an emphasis on “getting away” from everyday life to spend time in quiet prayer and spiritual reading; contemplative prayer seeking union with God (strong in all Catholic spiritual traditions, “centering prayer” is a modern form of this); and disciplining the body through things like fasting and other forms of self-denial to focus on eliminating sinful impulses.

Incarnational Spirituality – This approach to spirituality is most often associated with St. Francis of Assisi and the great Franciscan scholars St. Bonaventure and Blessed John Duns Scotus, although aspects of it are part of other spiritual traditions as well. In Incarnational Spirituality the incarnation of Christ is not a “Plan B” which occurred in response to sin. Instead, the Incarnation was the plan for the beginning and represents the pinnacle of Creation, where God freely and out of supreme love takes on human nature: “the universe is for Christ and not Christ for the universe” and “He is the beginning, middle, and end of creation.” Love is the center of this spirituality. Duns Scotus and Bonaventure taught that the reason for the incarnation is love – Christ would still have come as the supreme manifestation of God’s love for the creation he freely brought about. Love is the center, not sin. Franciscans do not reject the theology of the atonement or the Cross. Rather, we seek to emphasize the aspect of the nature of God being love, but not to the point that we reject any theological teachings that are firmly rooted in the church, like the atonement. Our focus does not take away the role that the Cross played in redemption; rather, we focus on God’s love, rather than man’s sin. In addition, by seeing Christ as the center of all creation, Christ can be experienced in all of creation.

Spirituality of the Cross – This is the approach to spirituality that most Catholics probably know best. It says that the Cross is where we find the ultimate source of meaning and the explanation of God’s saving that “through suffering and death we come to new life.” The spirituality of the Cross centers on the reality of the redemptive value of suffering and the realization that moments of pain and death have been given meaning and transformed by the death of Christ into the means of our salvation. Out of this approach have come some of the greatest and best-known spiritual writers in the history of the church – Thomas Aquinas, Theresa of Avila, John of the Cross and Ignatius of Loyola.

(Ruth Powers is the program coordinator for The Basilica of St. Mary in Natchez.)

FROM THE HERMITAGE
By sister alies therese
Have you ever considered joining the Peace Corps, Teach for America, or the Jesuit Volunteer Corps? Maybe you are an alum of one of these and have a few stories to tell? Maybe your service changed your life or the lives of others. Maybe your participation fulfilled a dream … a dream you’d had to serve others? Just perhaps.

We have turned into a new year, a Holy Year of Hope, where we have been asked to become intentional pilgrims. “Not all people are blessed with true vision. Some may spend a lifetime searching, building dream upon dream.” (Ellen Raskin, Figgs & Phantoms). There is a certain hopefulness in the notion of dreaming. Our Scriptures are full of dreamers. Some of them were also big actors and I suspect that is what the Holy Father is calling us to … not just dreaming, but acting.

Having said that: go where Jesus is not. Go and fill a void where the aches and pains of humanity cry out as loudly as John the Baptist. “dreaming of eating will not satisfy the hungry.” (African proverb) Voids are seeable and action is doable. Folks are often convinced if it is not big … then it is not worthy. Ugh, no. If it is for others in the Lord, it is hopeful. That is our goal to discover hope, to dispense hope, and to be transformed into a holy and hopeful people for God.

In searching out the void, the places where Jesus is not, we are on our long journey. There are some poor reasons to stop dreaming or to linger by the wayside, but we are called to press on both in our dreams and actions. For some, however, dangers and fears seem to block our journey. “Trying to find her way home was like a nightmare, where there is no possible way home and time stretches into infinity.” (Eleanor Cameron, The Court of the Stone Children)

Where is this void? Where is Jesus not? We say God is everywhere. True. But the absence of God, of Jesus in the lives of so many is undeniable. Let’s think about jails, prisons and death rows. Some individuals might be persons of faith for whom bad decisions landed them in an extreme situation and they can survive their incarceration based upon that. Others, however, are devoid of counsel, hope, indeed Jesus unless someone goes there, and cries out … Jesus can be here, even in this darkness. Letters, emails, phone calls break the void’s grip and open a new world of hope. And something, no, Someone replaces some of the anguish and some of the despair. Or consider your local nursing home/rehab center/mental health clinic. Often there are persons of faith who long to be back with their worshipping communities … alas they are now in a void, a place of darkness for them. Well, visits, letters, cards, calls, surprise packages … all break into that void and say, Jesus can be here, if you go. We can list many others … visiting the housebound, the deaf, children with cancer and their parents, homeless adolescents. Yes, we can also go overseas to pockets of poverty and injustice.

The call is to go where Jesus is not. In our own country, the dreams of various peoples were squelched for decades and still impact many. Hunger and poverty is disgustingly abundant in our nation. What dream do you have where hope can bring something bigger and better to millions? Or to that one family down the block, or those school kids in your district, or by national legislation? Some folks have lost their dream, and the reality of hope is slim. “I have lost my dream! And it was such a beautiful dream! It sang, and shouted, and glittered, and sparkled – and I’ve lost it! Somebody pulled it away, out of reach, just as I woke up.” (Joan Aiken, The Last Slice of Rainbow) To lose one’s dream, the dream of food for breakfast, or the dream of serving, is demoralizing. That people will dream for generations of freedom, equality and justice only to have these and other virtues slashed from their reach is wicked.

On the other hand, every generation seems to have a person or two who rises and challenges the void, challenges the anguish, and goes where Jesus is not so that the dreams of others might grow in hope. When you go where Jesus is not, you can be sure of criticism, ridicule and even danger.

Besides the Lord, Jesus, Himself, in our recent history I thought of these two: Langston Hughes, an African American poet, who in Dreams, wrote, “Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, Life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.” And it does not just not fly for others, it will not fly for you either. Secondly, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. who as a civil rights leader and pastor spoke in his famous ‘Dream Speech’, “…I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons/daughters of former slaves and former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.” Both these men went where Jesus was not more than once and deposited the gift of hope into the hearts of many.

Where will your pilgrimage take you this year? Where will hope and the fulfillment of dreams take place, for you and others? How will you more deeply root your prayer in hope, deepening your trust that if you go to where Jesus is not, He will arrive through you?
Blessings.

(Sister alies therese is a canonically vowed hermit with days formed around prayer and writing.)