IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
In his farewell speech in John’s Gospel, Jesus tells us that he is going away but that he will leave us a parting gift, the gift of his peace, and that we will experience this gift in the spirit he leaves behind.

How does this work? How do we leave peace and a spirit behind us as we go?

This is not something abstract, but something we experience (perhaps only unconsciously) all the time in all our relationships. It works this way. Each of us brings a certain energy into every relationship we have, and when we walk into a room, that energy in some way affects what everyone else in the room is feeling. Moreover, it will stay with them after we leave. We leave a spirit behind us.

For example, if I enter a room and my person and presence radiate positive energy: trust, stability, gratitude, concern for others, joy in living, wit, and humor, that energy will affect everyone in the room and will remain with them after I have left the room, as the spirit that I leave behind. Conversely, even though my words might try to say the contrary, if my person and presence radiate negative energy: anger, jealousy, bitterness, lying, or chaos, everyone will sense that, and that negative energy will remain with them after I leave, coloring everything I have left behind.

Sigmund Freud once suggested that we understand things the clearest when we see them broken, and that is true here. We see this writ large, for instance, in the case of how a long-term alcoholic parent affects his children. Despite trying not to do so, he will invariably bring a certain instability, distrust, and chaos into his family, and it will stay there after he is gone, as the spirit he leaves behind, short-term and long-term. His person and his presence will trigger a feeling of distrust and chaos, and the memory of him will do the same.

The same is true in reverse vis-à-vis those who bring positive energy, stability and trust, into a room. Unfortunately, often at the time, we do not sense the real gift that these persons bring and what that gift does for us. Mostly it is felt as an unspoken energy, not consciously perceived, and only later in our lives (often long after the persons who did that for us are gone) do we recognize and consciously appreciate what their presence did for us. This is true for me when I think back on the safety and stability of the home that my parents provided for me. As child, I sometimes longed for more exciting parents and naively felt safety and stability more as boredom than as a gift. Years later, long after I had left home and learned from others how starved they were as kids for safety and stability, I recognized the great gift my parents had given me. Whatever their human shortcomings, they provided my siblings and me with a stable and safe place within which to grow up. They died while we were still young, but they left us the gift of peace. I suspect the same is true for many of you.

This dynamic (wherein we bring either stability or chaos into a room) is something which daily colors every relationship we have and is particularly true regarding the spirit we will leave behind us when we die. Death clarifies things, washes things clean, especially regarding how we are remembered and how our legacy affects our loved ones. When someone close to us dies, our relationship to him or her will eventually wash clean and we will know exactly the gift or burden that he or she was in our lives. It may take some time, perhaps months, perhaps years, but we will eventually receive the spirit he or she left behind with clarity and know it as gift or burden.

And so, we need to take seriously the fact that our lives belong not just to us but also to others. Likewise, our deaths do not belong only to us, but also to our families, our loved ones, and the world. We are meant to give both our lives and our deaths to others as gift. If this is true, then our dying is something that will impart either a gift or a burden to those who know us.

To paraphrase Henri Nouwen, if we die with guilt, shame, anger, or bitterness, all of that becomes part of the spirit we leave behind, binding and burdening the lives of our family and friends. Conversely, our dying can be our final gift to them. If we die without anger, reconciled, thankful for those around us, at peace with things, without recrimination and making others feel guilty, our going away will be a sadness but not a binding and a burdening. Then the spirit we leave behind, our real legacy, will continue to nourish others with the same warm energy we used to bring into a room.

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

SPIRIT AND TRUTH
By Father Aaron Williams
The eyes of the world lately have been fixed on the conflict between Russia and Ukraine. But, one element that isn’t being reported well is the religious differences that exist particularly between Russian and Ukrainian Christians. The majority of Russian Christians (72%) are members of the Russian Orthodox Church. The remainder of Christians in Russia are, for the majority, members of a protestant community. Very few Russians assert they are members of the Catholic Church, and even fewer profess to be Roman Catholic.

Without attempting to explain centuries-old conflicts between Catholics and Orthodox Christians, suffice it to say that the major source of division stems from our understanding of the Pope of Rome as having authority, given to Christ the Lord to St. Peter, as supreme head of the church. But, apart from our political differences, the liturgy of the Orthodox Christians (not simply Russian Orthodox) is aesthetically very different from our celebrations of the Mass.

The liturgy celebrated in Orthodox churches is usually one of two liturgies which find their source in St. Basil the Great and St. John Chrysostom. These “Divine Liturgies” (their term for the “Mass”) are theologically the same celebrations we experience in our churches, with a valid Eucharist and all valid sacraments. Catholic and Orthodox Christians believe the same thing about the Mass, even though we are separated. This is why Orthodox Christians who request sacraments from a Catholic priest would freely be given them, though the same cannot be said of Catholic who may request sacraments from an Orthodox priest.

Now, what most Catholics do not know is that this eastern form of the liturgy also exists within the Catholic Church. There are Catholics throughout the world, and even in our own diocese, who are just as Catholic as you and me and yet are not Roman Catholic, meaning they do not celebrate the Roman form of the Holy Mass or the Sacraments and other rites. The largest of these ‘other’ Catholic Churches is the Ukrainian-Greek Catholic Church, which like the Russian Orthodox, also celebrate the Divine Liturgies of St. Basil and St. John Chrysostom.

Ukrainian-Greek Catholics, as well as the members of the other non-Roman Catholic Churches differ from Orthodox Christians because, like us, they also accept the authority of the Pope and believe all that is professed in the Catechism of the Catholic Church. So, we speak of these Catholics as being “in full communion.” The highest authority figure of the Ukrainian-Greek Catholic Church is the Major Archbishop of Kyiv-Galicia, Sviatoslav Shevchuk — who, like any archbishop, is answerable to Pope Francis.

So, with this as a background, Catholics should be aware that one major point of concern for us in the conflict between Russia and Ukraine is that culturally the impact of this war could be devastating to our fellow Catholics. Russian Orthodox Christians have historically been very unreceptive to their Catholic counterparts in Ukraine. In fact, the Russian Orthodox Patriarch Krill of Moscow has on several occasions publicly denounced Ukrainian-Greek Catholics as “heretics” who “abuse the liturgy with Roman customs.”

During my studies at the Liturgical Institute, I was graced with the opportunity to concelebrate the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom every Sunday for several weeks at a nearby Byzantine (Greek) Catholic Church. It was a great opportunity for me to learn about and participate in an ancient Catholic rite, though differing from my own. The experience also helped me better understand the now-famous phrase of Pope St. John Paul II that, in the eastern and western liturgies, the church breathes with “two lungs.”

Though our diocese does not have an eastern Catholic Church, there are several eastern Catholics among us who are members of the Byzantine (Greek) Church, the Melkite (Lebanese) Church, or the Syro-Malabar and Syro-Malankara (Indian) Churches. Mississippi does have several orthodox churches and communities, the largest of which are the Greek Orthodox Churches in Jackson. The closest Eastern Catholic Church to our diocese is St. Nicholas Byzantine Mission in New Orleans.

As the situation in Ukraine worsens, and our Holy Father continues to call us to prayer, we as Roman Catholics should remember especially our eastern-Catholic brothers and sisters who have historically suffered much more prejudice against them than Roman Catholics experience, and who still suffer today.

(Father Aaron Williams is parochial vicar at St. Patrick and St. Joseph Meridian.)

On Ordinary Times
By Lucia A. Silecchia
Throughout March, myriad celebrations of “Women’s History Month” unfold. I understand the sentiment behind this and see the great value in recognizing the contributions that so many of my sisters, past and present, have made to building our society. This is particularly true when it comes to celebrating those who have too often been overlooked.

Yet, I find myself wishing that the world would celebrate women year-round in ways more akin to the way in which I see women celebrated by the church. Let me explain.

In Women’s History Month, I see honor paid to those women who – with the odds frequently stacked against them – succeeded in the eyes of the world. Women who were pioneers, or public figures of influence, or daring “first” women to achieve great feats, or those beckoned by history to play extraordinary roles on the world stage are celebrated with great enthusiasm. Those who used their great scientific, literary, intellectual, entrepreneurial, artistic and musical gifts to advance culture as we know it are honored this month with often overdue praise and gratitude.

The church also recognizes among our saints those women who did extraordinary things in the eyes of the world. We celebrate women who were great warriors like Joan of Arc; intellectuals like Hildegard, Edith Stein and Teresa of Avila; royalty like Margaret of Scotland, Jadwiga of Poland, Elizabeth of Portugal, Elizabeth of Hungary and Helena of Constantinople; foundresses like Elizabeth Seton, Scholastica, Frances Xavier Cabrini, Katherine Drexel and Jane Francs de Chantal. We also celebrate women like Teresa of Calcutta and Catherine of Sienna, whose unique roles led them to challenge those who held great influence in the world at their times.

These women who did great things with great holiness are honored as examples for those called and gifted to do such things with fidelity to the will of God.
Yet, I am proud and grateful that the church also holds out as examples those women who lived lives that were simple in the eyes of the world. That is, after all, the way in which most of us live our lives on this side of eternity.

Honored as saints are women like Ann, Gianna and Monica who lived the vocation to motherhood with extraordinary grace; Therese of Lisieux and Clare of Assisi who lived lives hidden from the world; Zelie of Lisieux who spun lace for a living and raised holy children; Josephine Bakhita and Felicity who, separated by centuries, both bore the abuse of slavery; Kateri Tekakwitha, an orphan scarred by smallpox; and girls like Bernadette, Dymphna, Maria Goretti, Jacinta, Agnes and Lucy who died long before the fullness of years would have given them the chance to have worldly accomplishments to their names.

More than all others, the church honors Mary of Nazareth who did the greatest of all things when, in an instant, she gave the “yes” on which salvation turned. She is honored by such great names as the Mother of God, Queen of Heaven, Queen of Angels, and Queen of All Saints. Yet, the only title she gave herself was “handmaid of the Lord.”

I hope that this month we continue to celebrate those women whose great deeds have made our world better. Yet, if that was all we did, much would be missing.

I hope that, like the church, we also take time to honor those women whose lives are not marked by the extraordinary deeds they did, but by the extraordinary love, grace and fidelity with which they did the simple things entrusted to their care. History is full of those women even if their names and stories are lost to time.

If you are blessed to know such women in your life, this month may be a chance to say a simple thank you. If you were blessed to know such women who have left this life, this month may be a particular time to pray in gratitude for the goodness of their lives – a goodness perhaps hidden from the world but known to God. May God bless the great and the good women of ordinary time.

(Lucia A. Silecchia is a Professor of Law at the Columbus School of Law at the Catholic University of America.)