My Dear Family

SO FOOLISH A WEAPON

by Catherine Doherty

From time immemorial, in pagan days and in Christian days, beads have been used in the expression of love, worship, and remembrance of God. They have been called by various names, but they have always been there.

The Eastern rite people use a chotki made of knotted cord, on which they recite the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, have mercy on me a sinner.”

Many religions around the world use beads as a help to prayer, to lift their hearts to another world. Catholics use the rosary.

For many years in MH, I sorted donations that come to us from all over. Among them were rosaries of every size and description. Some were worn thin, made holy by someone reciting them over and over.

While I sorted, a picture came into my heart. As each bead passed through the hands using them and fell, a prayer rose to God. Where do those beads fall? Can you locate them? Yes. They fall into the heart of Our Lady, into the heart of her Son. And who knows, they may even reach the lap of God the Father.

I had a picture of the Father picking up bead for bead: the Muslim beads, the Eastern chotki, the Catholic rosary beads; the beads of many religions, each a kind of rosary. He played with them as a child would. For he said, through His Son, that only children will come to heaven. He must be childlike himself.

In those beads, falling one by one, all the pain and joy of the world is enclosed, and all the tenderness of God.

Our world is poised on the edge of an abyss of darkness. Men in white, in gleaming laboratories, dissect the awesome mysteries of the atom.

Men in soundproofed offices, quiet as tombs, deal with figures that few mortals understand, but that may spell utter destruction and death, not to thousands or millions, but to all mankind. Atom bombs, hydrogen bombs, nuclear weapons, chemical weapons, weapons of mass destruction in the making are in the minds and under the hands of men in buildings sheathed in secrecy, guarded like fortresses of old.

Outside is a strange breathless world of human beings—living, eating, selling, buying, marrying, yet seemingly waiting for something fearsome and dark to happen.

They wait in fear, trembling, insecurity, their minds filled with so many vital unseen threads, all coming to one point—those buildings where men deal with the figures of death and life.

Like Moloch, the pagan god of old, the atom—its bomb, its weaponry, its potential—drains our lives, our souls, robbing us of the peace of God, of our true selves, casting us into a desert, alone. Yet, the answer is at hand. The solution is close by.

Gently, softly, the thread that will lead us out of the labyrinth of fears, doubts, turmoil is placed into our sinful hands. It will close the abyss, and, touching the atom, make it a servant, not an avenging god. The answer, the solution, is the rosary.

The rosary: so tiny, so seemingly weak, to be used against the unseen but deadly power unleashed by the human mind.

The rosary: so foolish a weapon against the millions of fists raised by hatred and the millions of hearts turned toward materialism.

The rosary: a prayer of babies, youths, men, women-so simple that the illiterate can pray it, so profound that geniuses have not begun to probe its depths.

The rosary: a simple vocal prayer that can lead us into the realms of the highest mental and contemplative prayer.

The rosary is an answer to all our fears, our unrest, our dangers. It leads us back from the desert of darkness where we now dwell, where, forever and ever, the prince of darkness tempts us to fall down and adore him. Yes, it is the answer. Our Lady in her many apparitions has said so.

Why, then, are we not listening? Why do so many Catholics leave the rosary unsaid? Why aren’t our days filled with endless rosaries, forming a chain to hold the hearts of men anchored to the heart of God, through Mary his mother? It is time to begin praying the rosary daily.

We must understand that, if we don’t, our world will perish—and we with it. Those left will dwell in the catacombs, perhaps with only the rosary of God—their ten fingers—weeping because they know why they are underground.

Oh, let us pray the rosary, so that the children of light may continue to dwell in the light of God’s sun, so that the world may be restored to Christ, the Son of God.

Adapted from Bogoroditza, available from MH Publications.

 

Our Lady of Combermere - Part 17

A BLESSED VALLEY

by Fr. Emile Brière

The main purpose of this column is to remind you of the love and tenderness of God and his Mother, Our Lady of Combermere, for you.

This month let’s talk about Combermere itself. The village is situated in the Laurentian Plateau, 125 miles west of Ottawa, 180 miles northeast of Toronto. The Madawaska River—originating in Algonquin Park and emptying into the Ottawa River at Arnprior—runs through it.

The first road into the area, called the Opeongo Line, was built in the 1860’s. It began on the banks of the Ottawa River some nine miles west of Renfrew and was hacked through the forest to end at Opeongo Lake in Algonquin Park, some 150 miles distant.

A `corduroy road’ (made by laying logs end to end in rows), it soon became dotted with rest stops and inns. Lumber was the main attraction to the area.

Early pioneers settled on either side of the Line, cleared enough space and built their first log cabins. During the fall winter months, the men labored hard in the lumber camps at great sacrifice to themselves and their families. Those were heroic days made possible by the immense faith and courage of the settlers.

“It could be said that the earliest settlements of Combermere area was by English settlers, along with a few Germans and Irish. South of the village, on top of a hill, was the `French settlement’ (later called the `Robillard settlement’). This would be the situation in the early 1860’s.

“The Catholics were without a church and were visited by itinerant missionaries from Ottawa each year. The majority of Catholics were French river men from Lower Canada, so the first missionaries were French. After 1870 the beginnings of a Polish settlement took place in the Wadsworth Lake area,” (Lift Up Your Hearts, by Fr. Joseph Legree, p 362).

The colonizers brought with them their religious, political, social, and racial prejudices, as well as great qualities of heart and soul. I do not think any of the prejudices are active now.

The scenery is beautiful at any season of the year. The major (and perhaps only) complaint are the black flies who thrive hungrily for four or five weeks at the end of May and the beginning of June, and the mosquitoes who last a little longer.

The Madawaska River creates a bay right in front of Madonna House. The view from our front window extends for at least a mile, changes all through the day and varies each day of the year. Clear waters flow, surrounded by tall greenery and moving into a generally blue sky.

Every minute of every day I thank Our Lady of Combermere for having brought Catherine and Eddie here to establish MH. I am forever grateful to the holy and loving people of this valley who accepted us as friends.

We are blessed with clean air and an unpolluted river. The terrain is thickly forested; therefore, farming is a little difficult. The topsoil in our area is about three inches deep. A farmer can easily ruin his soil by digging too deep, turning over the topsoil and killing it with sand. It has been a wonderful challenge to enrich our farm with manure, compost, and irrigation.

How did Our Lady bring about the establishment of MH in Combermere? That’s a fish story. An ardent fisherman from Toronto came to this area in the early 1930s, and stayed at the Sunset Inn run by Maggie Hudson. After supper he cast a line in the river just across the road, and caught a big fish. From then on he was hooked! Returning to Toronto he told his buddy, Nicholas Makletzoff, who also came up the next summer.

Nicholas, too, was hooked. He returned to Toronto and shared his enthusiasm with his friend Catherine de Hueck. She started coming here yearly. Nicholas built a lovely cottage here, and in 1947 Catherine and Eddie bought it from him. It was six rooms overlooking the Madawaska, surrounded by three and a half acres of poor soil. This was the first Madonna House.

Combermere at the time suffered from an economic depression. Many people were in serious need. Bishop William J. Smith invited Catherine and Eddie to open a rural settlement house here.

Our Lady loves poor, humble, out of the way, places. Over the years, the economic situation has improved considerably, but Combermere is still a gentle place, a friendly place where to live.

MH also has grown and become international. Young people come here from all over the world, seeking meaning for their lives, seeking to be restored, searching for the truth, for God.

What do they find here? We try to apply the Gospel to our daily lives. The main `book’ here is the schedule of the day made up of prayer, work, recreation, study, rest. The principal truth we try to teach and live is: “I believe that God loves me and therefore I want to love him back by serving my brothers and sisters.”

Guests come to know Our Lady of Combermere, experiencing her tenderness in the very air they breathe. Few rules—much love is the guiding spirit.

Let it be known by everybody that Our Lady of Combermere protects this whole valley and all who live here and who pass through. Her tenderness extends to the diocese, the nation, the Americas, and to the whole world.

Let’s conclude this column with our usual prayer, saying it together:

Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ, we thank you and praise you for giving us Our Lady of Combermere to be our mother, guide and director.

May we entrust our wills to her so that your divine will may be accomplished in us, namely that each of us becomes another Christ and that all of us together be formed into a living icon of love reflecting the love you share with your Son and the Holy Spirit. We ask this confidently through Christ our Lord. Amen.

 

India Diary - Part 3

A RELATIONSHIP OF TRUST

by Fr. Robert Wild

The author travelled with Mark Schlingerman and Theresa Davis to the Assam region of Northeast India to give a series of retreats to priests and religious of the area. He concludes his account of their experience. [Editors note: The retreat talks are now available in print in the book Living Fully in Our Times, available from MH Publications.]

The retreats were based on MH’s Little Mandate. Each person attending had a card of it, to which they could refer.

It’s always difficult for the speakers themselves to evaluate retreats. I guess you would have to ask those who were listening. But I think our talks were generally well-received.

After finishing the retreat in Guwahati, we went the next day to do the second one in Shillong, where we had spent our first few days upon arrival.

Each day was quite intense: three talks, the liturgy, an hour of adoration, plus meals and socializing in between. Everybody there takes a nap in the afternoon, and a shower or two, so we joined in those refreshing customs.

By their standards, the schedule was not heavy, and there was enough time in between for prayer and silence.

The schedule for both retreats was something like this: Mass and breakfast; talks at 9 and 11; lunch; nap and free time; talk at 4; adoration at 6; supper, and a quiet evening.

The purpose of the retreat, we were told, was to help prepare the Church of the North East for the Third Millennium. Our main theme was that the Church of the Third Millennium needs saints; that it’s only saints who’ve ever made the Church come alive and renewed it.

We told them that—while we wouldn’t presume to tell them how to evangelize their own people—the first mission field, as Catherine often said, was our own hearts; and secondly, the brothers and sisters with whom we live.

If these mission fields are neglected, then all else will be sounding brass and tinkling symbols.

We tried to share our way of life from a very personal point of view. Several of them mentioned that it was unusual to hear people talk personally about the Gospel. They are constantly in a teaching, catechetical mode. (I noticed that in the homilies there was a distinctive—almost formal—teaching approach.) I think that the personal way we shared the Gospel with them was rather refreshing.

One of the most beautiful comments from a young sister who said that she didn’t realize there was holiness in the West.

That a priest, layman and laywoman gave the retreats had a special witness value. This is the nature of the MH community: priests and laity, men and women.

We gave some talks on the relationships between priest and laity in the Church today, and between men and women. We could speak to this situation out of our own experience. Often the three of us were on stage together, so they could see our common way of life in our interaction with one another.

I believe this is how MH should give retreats now, with the whole community being represented; we are doing this more frequently, as a matter of fact. I think it was a new experience for them to hear people speaking of these relationships in the actual context of a new community life within the Church, and not simply in an abstract manner.

At the end of each retreat there was time for fun, and for gift-giving. In Guwahati I presented Archbishop Thomas with an icon of St. Thomas the Apostle, which he said would have a place of prominence in the chapel in the new diocesan center he was then building.

There was also a delightful variety show, and we experienced how our new brothers and sisters expressed themselves when they were having fun. We sang, too: Rejoice Virgin Mary.

In Shillong I presented the diocese with an icon of Our Lady, and we each received a warm shawl to wear, customary in this cool part of India.

Whenever I give retreats I marvel at the trust which is placed in me. After all, a bishop doesn’t really know what the retreat master is going to say! This struck me especially here in India: the whole Catholic Church of the North East was entrusted to us for ten days. We thank the bishops for this trust, and for giving us the privilege of speaking to the many priests and religious of their dioceses.

Perhaps one of the greatest gifts we received was the public statement of a Franciscan Provincial after our retreat in Shillong. It said to us that our message had been received and heard and taken into their hearts. Could there have been a greater joy to crown our passage to India?

After reading it, he called on all the retreatants to pledge to implement it in their lives. Here’s what he said (which is also a summary of our talks):

“First, we believe that the Third Millennium needs saints. Hence, we resolve to place our priority on living the Gospel without compromise.

“Second, we believe that the first mission is our own heart. Hence, we resolve to put our house in order by our renewed prayer life, sought in solitude [I’d given a talk on the poustinia], and regularity in sacramental life.

“Third, we believe in a life of communion, after the example of the Holy Trinity, as a powerful way to proclaim the Gospel. Hence, we resolve to be agents of communion and to initiate movements of reconciliation and forgiveness.

“Fourth, we believe that the Church of the 21st Century is the Church of the laity. Hence, we resolve to enter into a relationship of trust, without betraying or misusing their confidence in us.

“Fifth, we believe that redemption is the food of the cross and suffering. Hence, we resolve to accept joyfully the inconveniences of daily life, and to do little things exceedingly well.

“Sixth, we believe that the Lord has risen, and we are called to be witnesses of the Resurrection. Hence, we resolve to practice this with joy on our faces, with fidelity to our vocations, with commitment to our ministries and with Mary by our side.”

 

Signs and Symbols - Part 2

EXERCISING OUR ROYAL DIGNITY

by Archbishop Joseph Raya

Besides being an act of faith, the sign of the cross is an act of consecration of ourselves to God.

In the Eastern rite, we carry our hand to our forehead, to signify that our thoughts and words belong to the Father; then to our heart, to signify that our hearts and affections belong to the Son; then to our right shoulder to signify that our good actions are vivified and sealed by the presence of the Holy Spirit.

Finally, we carry the hand to our left shoulder to signify repentance for sins. In Holy Scripture, right symbolizes good; and left, evil and sin.

Our Melkite ancestors used a formula of consecration when making this sign of the cross: “Lord, be in my mind, my heart, my good actions; and forgive my sins.”

In the 13th century, the Western Church adopted this way of making the sign of the cross with the first three fingers joined together, and the last two joined in the palm of the hand. The Western Church also moved the hand from right to left, as is still done in the East.

In the 15th century, a change began taking place in the West, regarding both the composition of the fingers and the direction of hand movement. Pope Eugene IV wrote a letter to the bishops in 1439 telling them to watch their flocks who had started doing the sign of the cross “in the wrong way, with open hand and from left to right.”

But in the 16th century, this way of making the sign of the cross became common in the West: the open hand with its straight fingers signifying the five wounds of Christ.

Whatever way Christians make the sign of the cross, it always expresses the same faith in the oneness and uniqueness of God as Father-Son-Spirit, and in the redemption won by Christ’s death and resurrection.

Christians use visible signs and symbols to point to the invisible that lies beyond. We make a gesture, and by it we glorify the Trinity, we glorify the Incarnation, and we rejoice in our redemption.

The whole life of a Christian is indeed glorification and praise. When we eat and when we go to sleep, when we act and when we rest, we always have in mind to glorify life and praise God for his gifts. We repeat again and again, “Glory be to you, O God!”

When we mention the holy name of God, we rejoice in him by making the sign of the cross. We sign ourselves also every time we say the name Theotokos, because this title for Mary contains the name of God, meaning literally `bearer of God.’

We multiply the signs of the cross to awaken to our own royal dignity and divine worth. St. Basil explains:

“Christians reach their royal dignity only when they realize that they are the image of God. They become their royal selves only when they know their dignity to be in God—in whom and through whom they possess goodness and freedom.”

This awareness of our divine worth cannot become real and true by our simply `knowing’ of its existence. It has to be practiced in all its fullness.

As any human artistic perfection cannot by performed and enjoyed except through constant exercise and practice, so it is with spiritual realities. As one cannot be an athlete, an actor or a musician without years of daily exercises, so it is with Christians in their life as disciples.

The Christian is an athlete who exercises continually, so as to attain to the deep and invisible meaning of the perfection of the Gospel.

When we look at the mystery of Christ’s passion, we should behold something beyond the physical reality: the shining vista of God’s infinite love.

When we look at the weakness and utter misery of our human existence, we should see and glorify the infinite generosity of God who forgives us with no limit nor any condition.

When we look at the darkness that engulfed the crucified Lord, we should see in that darkness a new dawn coming upon the world: the Resurrection.

These marvelous realities cannot be understood at once. It takes long exercises and frequent meditation to unveil their magnificence and glory.

By the frequent gesture of the sign of the cross, we enter into a personal relationship with the Trinity, and gradually come to realize that we belong to God as much as God belongs to us.

We rekindle also the flame of truth: that our human value is of primary importance in the eyes of God because we are his children and inheritors of his Kingdom.

Thus, the sign of the cross should become a gesture of shimmering beauty, laden with more glory than any other religious sign.

Seeing Christ on the cross should open to us a vista of the infinite love that God has shone upon the world. Only infinite love can create a true person in his own image. As image of God we are free. We can accept or reject him.

If God had proven beyond the shadow of a doubt by forceful miracles that he existed, or by philosophical pronouncements that he is love, he would have destroyed our freedom, his image in us. Logic or human argumentation and philosophy that prove and force belief destroy freedom.

Only in freedom can we accept such a revelation of God. Only by showing itself as weakness can infinite love persuade and open the door to this reality of hope and joy.

This is why God the Son became man: to abandon himself as man to our utter misery and vanquish it by his resurrection as God.

The grandeur of human beings is in their freedom, in being the image of God, the supremely free one. The sign of the cross is the constant reminder of our free relationship of love with God. It is a constant exercise that creates and cements the awareness of our human dignity and divine worth.

 

Combermere Diary

PEARL OF GREAT PRICE

by Cheryl Ann Smith

“Receive this brown folder; it contains the pearl of great price: our life.” These words were addressed to Petra Mueller, Catherine Ching, and Michael Weitl as they became applicants on September 8, feast of the Birth of Mary.

These words would also have been spoken to Sidcley dos Santos in MH Brazil and Kwame Moses Augustine in MH Ghana, as they took this same leap of faith, beginning the process of formation to become staff of MH.

This year’s class is distinctive, in that three of the five were born outside of North America (Catherine is Singaporean), thus greatly enriching our life. There are also more men than women this year.

The `brown folder’ that they received contains writings on our life and spirit. The folder has come to symbolize for us the treasure in the field, the pearl of great price for which we sell everything. It is a poor and plain container for the riches of the kingdom, not unlike us!

At supper that night, Jean Fox explained the symbolism of the traditional `applicant cake’ which is adorned with a cross. “The cross will, at first, taste bitter to you,” she said to the new applicants, “but it will became sweet if embraced. Have courage; we are all standing with you.”

What is this pearl of great price? It is found in the words of our `Little Mandate’:

Arise—go! Sell all you possess. Give it directly personally to the poor. Take up My cross (their cross) and follow Me, going to the poor, being poor, being one with them, one with Me.

In the past few months, a number of us have been called to arise and be united with Christ in new places. (A full list of staff postings is printed in the hard-copy version of this issue, but not in this internet version.)

Alma Coffman, Dawn Kobewka, and Laurette Patenaude began a new life in a dormitory close to the farm. It’s the first time that women staff have lived near the farm. They named the house `Bethany’ (the home of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus) because they desire it to be a place of service, prayer, and transformation.

Little, be always little… simple, poor, childlike.

The applicants learn this quickly, as they carry only two suitcases to their new home, letting go of personal possessions. They learn about their new life through classes, formation in the various work departments, and by opening their hearts to community life.

Fr. Michael Shields, a good friend from Magadan, Russia, was with us for a few weeks, and emphasized this line of the Mandate by his parting words: “Be meek; quietly obey. This is the antidote to the anger pervading the world today.”

Preach the Gospel with your life—without compromise. Listen to the Spirit. He will lead you.

Our men are in the process of electing a Director General. We pray and ask the Holy Spirit to lead us in this. We know God has chosen someone for this position of service, and the vote must be unanimous. We call this unity of mind and heart sobornost. It can only be sought in prayer.

While only the men vote in this election, we all gathered one evening for an hour of silent prayer for unity.

Do little things exceedingly well for love of me.

This is a crucial line in the Mandate. Our life is made up primarily of little things. It was Catherine’s genius to imbue stuff of everyday life with love of God.

These past weeks, our main work has been food processing. As the harvest comes in, large crews work to preserve the fruits and vegetables.

We processed some chickens in our annual `chicken bee’—twice the usual number. It was MH at its best: a spirit of prayerful attentiveness and unity permeated the day. By evening, 308 chickens were put into the freezer.

The number would have been 309, but one chicken escaped by hiding in the ram’s pen! Her craftiness netted her another year of life.

Love… love… love… never counting the cost.

A great gift of the last month was Joseph Chie Nimene taking his first promises in Ghana. Joseph has already begun to live the spirit of love without counting the cost.

Although he is young, he lived through the trauma of civil war in his native Liberia, and was prepared to lay down his life for others.

It would be wonderful if he could meet Kathleen O’Herin, our oldest member, who just celebrated her 94th birthday! At a festive meal in her honor, Kathleen shared stories from her many years of loving.

Go into the marketplace and stay with Me. Pray, fast. Pray always, fast.

Teams have gone to workshops and conferences, to operate book tables, to pray with other groups, to see how God is moving with others.

Cynthia Donnelly presented the play A Woman in Love, on the life of Catherine Doherty, to audiences in Derby, New York, and Windsor, Ontario. Three of the staff joined with 15 new communities in Quebec for a day of retreat and sharing. In all these involvements, God has also called us to:

Be hidden, be a light to your neighbors’ feet. Go without fears into the depth of men’s hearts. I shall be with you.

More and more, people pilgrim to Our Lady of Combermere or to Catherine’s grave, for God calls us to Pray always; I shall be your rest.

Kathleen Labrie went on a pilgrimage to Poland, where she walked with others from Krakow to Czestohowa. The group walked 22 to 36 kilometers a day, carrying only bread and water, seeking hospitality from villagers at night. It was the type of pilgrimage Catherine Doherty would have loved.

Seeing the radiant faces of the applicants receiving their brown folders, many of the staff harkened back to the moment that they received the gift of this vocation, the pearl of great price.

One of Catherine’s prayers, written for the staff in 1958, still very much applies: “Lord, may they know you better, love you more, serve you always. May they persevere unto the end in their humble and glorious vocation which you, in your mercy, have given them.”

 

MH Magadan

THE STAIRWELL GANG

by Janet Bourdet

The author recently spent seven weeks in Magadan, Russia, bringing to the children of that city the Montessori-style Catechism of the Good Shepherd which we use in our house in Arizona. This is her account of that time.

For the first two weeks, I couldn’t even say hello to anyone: zdrastvuite was too hard to pronounce! After seven weeks, it was even harder to say goodbye.

At Mass two Sundays ago, I sat behind a weeping babushka (grandmother). What was the cause of her tears? Something horrible, I imagined. Later, she talked to Marie Javora, who motioned me over. Babushka told us this story:

In her apartment building, a pack of teens hung out in the stairwell. When she passed by, the kids would spit on her, harass her, and call her names.

In her distress, she did a most astonishing thing. She invited them to our `summer school’! She told them a lunch would be given, and she would pay their bus fare.

It was then that a mustard seed fell from Babushka’s pocket, watered by their spittle and her tears. And the seed began to grow.

Week 1. Bored and hungry, the stairwell gang arrived.

“Who are these teenagers?” I asked. It was a mystery. No one had seen them before. They looked tough, underfed, and over-exposed. I feared they would laugh me out of Russia when I brought out the visual aids the program requires, like the little sheepfold full of little sheep!

They didn’t laugh. But after the first week, Natasha confided to Masha that they were bored. Masha, my 19-year-old translator, was distraught. “Bored? How can they be bored? I’m not bored!” We decided that a half hour of outdoor games would make things more exciting for them.

Week 2. During lunch, a few of the gang snuck out to have a cigarette. They were caught, and told to leave for breaking the rules. They asked forgiveness, and literally begged to stay. The seed was now a shrub.

Another day, a fist-fight broke out during a game of tag. The girl involved apologized to the boy, but he refused her apology and ran off crying. I thought this was the last we’d see of Stas. He was far too cool to face us after crying from a girl’s punch!

But 15 minutes later, he was back apologizing, and wanted to stay on for the lesson. In the shelter of the mustard-seed shrub, two birds sang a new tune.

Mid-week 2. A quiet peace descended on the room. Our meditations on the Last Supper, the Good Samaritan, the Publican and the Pharisee were deep and sincere.

They asked more and more questions: What is mercy? How do you love those who hate you? Why can’t we see God now? What about sin—how good do you have to be to get into heaven?

One of the most powerful moments came after the presentation of the Last Supper. We asked, “Why do we believe Jesus’ words: This is my body. This is my blood?” Silence. Then Simeon spoke out. His words cut through the room. Not understanding the Russian, I wondered what he had said. What conviction had so tangibly moved the group to a profound silence?

Masha leaned over, whispering in my ear, “He is true!” The mustard shrub grew three feet in that great and holy silence.

Then a clamor of Russian voices began. It sounded almost like they were fighting! “What’s going on?” I asked Masha. “What are they saying?” She replied, “They are all saying that the light is stronger than the darkness!”

No question about it; this was no longer a shrub. A mustard tree was standing big and branchy in the room.

Week 3. The kids began to ask if they could stay inside and work, rather than play outdoor games.

Tanya announced what we all felt: “This joy of the mustard seed and the kingdom of heaven is so great, I must go and share it with others!” It was this joy that was the cause of Babushka’s tears, a joy that follows the Good Shepherd over hills and down stairwells.

That was the afternoon class. The morning group was a completely different experience: eight kids, aged eight to ten. Here’s a glimpse of our time together.

After listening to the parable of the Good Shepherd, they were asked, “How much does the Good Shepherd love his sheep?” Ivanka scowled, “Now that’s hard to say!”

Moments later, she interrupted me with her realization: “Jesus laid down his life for the sheep on the cross.”

In another lesson, the Good Shepherd calls his sheep to the altar at Mass to be fed with his Body and Blood. I asked them, “What is on the altar?”

Looking at our small model, I expected answers like `the chalice, the paten’. One of the girls answered, “It is love.”

I’ll end at the empty tomb. Little Nastya, who at age ten is already no stranger to suffering, answered this question: “If you believe Jesus Christ rose from the dead, do you think people will call you crazy?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, she proclaimed, “Love is strength!”

 

Word Made Flesh

WHAT’S THE REAL ISSUE?

by Fr.Patrick McNulty

This month we reflect on the readings for the 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Oct 17): Isaiah 45:1, 4-6, 1 Thess 1:1-5, and Matt 22: 15-21 (render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s).

For years, I thought of today’s Gospel only in terms of the separation of Church and state, Caesar and God. My mind recalled all the issues—moral, political, social—that keep the people of `Church and state’ more separated than they really need to be.

One day I realized the real Church-state issue in my life was that I acted as if I had the right to `state’ what I thought Church should be! The issue was not Caesar and God. It was me and God—and which one of us was going to be God.

I had made the Church into an issue. But it’s not: the Church is a vision. The conflict of Church and state seldom begins or remains at the level of issues; it quickly becomes a life-and-death battle around an essential difference of vision.

Issues are slippery, dangerous things. Often they are quite clear—for instance, the current issues surrounding the right to life. But what about the issues of yesterday—the cry in the 60s for racial justice and the issues surrounding the Vietnam war? Those issues were clear to many my age. But they weren’t clear to many of those for whom the right to life is so clear today.

A danger in focusing on issues is that they’re interrelated. It’s almost impossible to take on one issue without feeling the unbearable burden of taking on all of them.

We gradually realize that we can’t talk about the rights of the unborn unless we face our personal responsibility to life itself at every level. We can’t talk about global war and peace unless we take responsibility for the war going on in our own hearts, our families, our communities.

Of course, we can’t take on every issue. We have to pick and choose where we put our energies. Even then, we risk losing our way altogether. A roster of necessary issues leads to other issues, and on to further issues. No end is in sight and no peace possible.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus does not define the delicate balance between Church and state, between responsibility to Caesar and obligation to God. Perhaps that’s why the Church chose to put the reading from Isaiah (in which God chooses Cyrus to be king of Babylon) alongside this particular passage.

Difficult as it may be for us to believe, it is God who, for his own purposes, chose Cyrus as king. God also allows the Caesars of our modern world to rule, again for his own purposes.

If this is so, then Christ is not talking about issues here. He’s talking about a `vision of the whole’ of God’s plan.

This vision says, in answer to the question of who is in charge: God! It says, in answer to the question of who is behind all human history: God! That’s the real issue from which all others flow!

The Church’s faith is not based primarily on issues—whether it’s the right to life, inclusive language, or whatever. We are a body of believers, and live from within a vision of the whole, which continually unfolds through the same Spirit who was given at Pentecost.

The Church has had to learn how to live among the many issues of the day. The Spirit has often used them to open our eyes to a fuller vision of faith. But if any single issue becomes our primary, total focus—be it `liberal’ or `conservative’—this vision is at risk.

If we lose the vision, then we will die in the endless war of mere issues—winners and losers without vision. It’s a scenario which only leads to more wars.

In the 60s, I lost everything over issues: close friends, pastoral credibility in my diocese, trust in the Church, and hope in America. I lost my faith, and almost lost my life.

What were my issues? From a poor parish, I saw the arrogant, sinful security of the `Anglo’ Church. In a powerful, wasteful society, I saw the demand to keep the war alive at all cost. Despite the powerful call for church renewal, I saw ecclesiastics hanging on to power for its own sake. Close priest-friends left the ministry because the Church was unwilling to allow for married clergy.

I saw many, if not most, of these issues quite clearly; and I honestly tried to embrace them, `paying the price’ as a priest and a Christian. When I finally crashed and burned I thought that’s what was happening.

Then I woke up one morning and realized what was killing me: I had no vision. I had important, necessary issues; but no vision.

Whatever problems we have with the Church, there is no avenue into the peace and unity promised by Jesus unless we embrace the `vision of the whole’ proclaimed in and to the Church.

If we get into issues before we have a deep, clear sense of this vision—and have lived it and loved it for a long time—we can have little more than brief truces in an endless war.

It’s when the issues are stripped away that many of us see the truth, that the real battle is between our vision and the vision of the whole:

- the vision of obeying as Christ obeyed versus how we see obedience;

- the vision of loving as Christ loved versus our need to love or be loved;

- the vision we have of the Church versus the Church formed by the Spirit.

When we focus on the war of issues, it soon becomes another war altogether; a war of visions; a war unto death; a spiritual war in which one is even willing to exchange the vision of the whole for more popular issues because they honestly seem more important.

It’s essentially the same battle which rages at any time in history between Church and state. The answer is not to figure out what we should render to Caesar versus what we should render to God. Rather, the question to ask is: what is our vision of the Caesars of this world in the light of Christ’s vision of God?

In this battle, we must fight on the life-giving field of `what is the vision’ and not in the often self-serving trenches of `what are the issues’.

I regained my life, my sanity and my faith in the late 70s when I had no issues and no vision left. There was nothing left to do but look, almost for the first time, at the Church’s vision of life and faith, free of all issues. It was like being `born again’!

I admit that the Church is at times remiss in her responsibilities. Yes, the Church can get lost in issues, even pick and choose them according to her advantages and needs. All true. But these concerns are just more issues. What about the vision?

I know of no religious body on earth whose overall vision of life, love, society, politics, economics, art and science (to name only a few areas) is as immense as that of the Catholic community.

Until I’m willing to let go of issues, I’m stuck with no vision. But if I can sacrifice issues for vision, I will see these issues in perspective and be able to bring forth life, regardless of who Caesar is.

Can we let go of our pet issues in order to see this bigger vision? Can we let the issues rest? Can we pray, listen, and study the vision which is the source and answer of all issues? Can we at least risk trying to fit our issues into this vision, instead of fitting it into our issues?

In the end, after all other issues have been fought and forgotten, the final issue for most of us will be that we want to identify the Church with ourselves and our agendas, instead of identifying ourselves with the Church and her vision. Maybe this isn’t a problem for you, but it certainly is a temptation for me.

Pray for me, that I never again get lost in the issues. I much prefer the incredible freedom of the vision of the whole.

 

ICON OF SERVICE

by Miriam Stulberg

I’d like to share with you the story of someone we’ve learned about, here in Magadan, whose witness has become for us an icon of the spiritual life.

I learned of Mother Maria by reading her deathbed confession. She was an orphan who had been raised by a wealthy family.

In 1914, she entered an Orthodox monastery as a nun. When the monastery closed five years later, as a result of the Russian Revolution, she worked at menial jobs. She eventually made her way to Moscow and became a nurse.

In 1935, she took monastic vows in secret, but continued to live in the world. Because of the long, gruelling hours of work and the countless services she rendered to people, she rarely made it to the liturgy or carried out the prayer life that she felt she should have.

But a young girl, in whose family Mother Maria lived, said: “You can’t imagine how much good she brought to people! She never counted the cost … and it cost her everything—her health, her strength, her time, her sleep.”

The nun’s confessor, who’d spent many years in the labor camps, said marvelling:

“Three times in my life, God has given me the privilege of meeting men and women whose lives have been an especially rich revelation of God. Mother Maria is one of them.

“Her life seems absolutely ordinary and undistinguished. But wherever she found herself, whatever she was doing, whatever befell her, her life was marked by a single-minded striving towards God and a great, all-consuming desire to serve others; a never-ending, limitless losing of her own self in people and for people.

“All this came to perfection in the everyday context of our Soviet life, with all its stress and restrictions and the relentless demands of everyday existence. Her life was a podvig [a spiritual feat] but she never thought of it that way.

“She only knew that, at any given moment, before her was a person, her brother or sister, who was suffering and needed help. She rendered this help, not as from herself, but as from God and in his name.”

These lines struck me powerfully. They are what we are meant to do, what all Christians should live out. Is it being done? Is this what we want to live out?