Monday Motivation: Christian Communication

"Christian communication – but I would also say communication in general – should be steeped in gentleness and closeness, like the talk of companions on the road. This was the method of the greatest communicator of all time, Jesus of Nazareth, who, as he walked alongside the two disciples of Emmaus, spoke with them and made their hearts burn within them as he interpreted events in the light of the Scriptures.

"I dream of a communication capable of making us fellow travelers, walking alongside our brothers and sisters and encouraging them to hope in these troubled times. A communication capable of speaking to the heart, arousing not passionate reactions of defensiveness and anger, but attitudes of openness and friendship. A communication capable of focusing on beauty and hope even in the midst of apparently desperate situations, and generating commitment, empathy and concern for others. A communication that can help us in 'recognizing the dignity of each human being, and in working together to care for our common home' (Dilexit Nos, 217)." - Pope Francis, 59th World Day of Social Communications, Jan. 24, 2025

Requiescat in pace, Papa Franciscus

Pope Francis passed away this morning. Although he had been very sick recently, spending more than six weeks in the hospital, he had seemed to be recovering, so I was surprised to learn of his passing. He seems to have saved the last of his energy to spend as much of Holy Week as possible with his people. He visited the prison in Rome on Holy Thursday, where he traditionally washed the feet of prisoners. He visited St. Peter’s Basilica and the Basilica of Mary Major. He spoke to the crowd at St. Peter’s yesterday, Easter Sunday, delivering his Urbi et Orbi message before riding through the square in the popemobile. It was amazing seeing him suddenly so active, but I worried he was overdoing it. No, he knew exactly what he was doing.

He was born Jorge Bergoglio in Buenos Aires on Dec. 17, 1936. After recovering from a severe illness as a teenager (that left his lungs weakened), he joined the Jesuits in 1958. He was ordained a priest in 1969. He served as a novice director and a professor of theology. From 1973-1979 he served as the superior of the Jesuits in Argentina.

After his time as provincial superior he taught at the Facultades de Filosofía y Teología de San Miguel, the Jesuit seminary in Buenos Aires. After six years, he was asked to step down, as he did not reflect the modern trend of emphasizing social justice over direct pastoral work. He was known for being orthodox in his beliefs, and he rejected liberation theology, which was huge in Central and South America at the time. Because of this, he clashed with his Jesuit superiors. 

In 1992 he became an auxiliary bishop of Buenos Aires. Jesuit authorities asked him to not live in Jesuit residences due do ongoing disagreements. Though he did not formally part from the Jesuits, from that point on, he focused on his role in the archdiocese. In 1998, he became the archbishop of Buenos Aires. As archbishop, he reformed a lot of the archdiocese and worked to increase the Church’s presence in the poorest neighborhoods. He was even known as “the slum bishop.” He lived in a small apartment and took public transport.

Ministry of Presence

On reflecting on the Passion, my mind was brought to those who stayed through the very end. When the frenzy of the crowd and the spectacle of the violence waned, when the disciples scattered, when the sun began to dip, there were the handful of people who stayed: his mother Mary, Mary the wife of Clopas, Mary Magdalene, John, Joseph of Arimathea, perhaps a few others. A far cry from the hundreds jubilantly welcoming him into the city on Palm Sunday.

Staying at the foot of the cross is often depicted as a sign of great faith, deep devotion withstanding any hardship. But this year, I saw their staying at the cross not as a sign of faith but an act of love. Jesus was suffering, and there was nothing any of them could do. But could be there. When he made the effort to lift his head and look out, with sweat and blood stinging his eyes, he could see familiar faces looking back at him with love. 

There is so much suffering that cannot be alleviated. When the sticky black cloud burrows in, or the body weakens, or disasters descend, sometimes the only thing anyone can do is be present. It feels so simple and, often, so useless. But it can make a big difference. Just sitting with someone as they struggle so they can know they aren't forgotten or abandoned can ease the burden. It's hard when you want to fix something and can't, want to find the right words but can't. Sometimes it would be easier to step away then to stay and feel so useless. But staying is a useful act. Let the suffering express their pain, hold them, pray for them, offer words of comfort if possible. The ministry of presence can be hard because it feels like doing nothing when you most want to. 

I'm sure those at the foot of the cross wanting to save Jesus from the crucifixion; they wanted to clean his wounds or offer him water or strike the men who struck him. But they couldn't. All they could do was stay as close as they could, witness his suffering, endure it with him. It didn't change the amount of physical pain. But surely it comforted him some to know that he was loved, that his suffering was recognized, that not all turned away. 

It's hard to be present when someone is suffering and it feels like there is nothing you can do. It is hard to be the one suffering and feeling like a burden to those you love. Suffering is, well, suffering. And sometimes there is no solution; we just have to endure it and see it through. And in those times, the ministry of presence is the only balm someone can offer. It is a great service. It is faithful devotion. It is love in action.

May we all have someone there in our moments of suffering. May we never be abandoned. 

The Anointed

During Holy Week, every diocese celebrates the Chrism Mass, in which the bishop blesses and consecrates the sacred oils used in sacraments throughout the year.

The use of holy oil goes back before Christianity. In ancient Israel, priests and kings were anointed with oil in order to be set apart. Oil was also used to bless holy objects. This oil was a mix of myrrh, cinnamon, cassia, olive oil, and possibly calamus. “A smell pleasing to the Lord” indeed.

Olive oil was an important product to the Israelites; it was used not only in sacred ceremonies, but in everyday uses: it was a way to clean bodies, treat wounds, and fuel lamps. Olive oil was associated with health, knowledge, wealth, and joy. In religious settings, it represented the blessings of God.

Jacob anoints a stone pillar, marking the place of his vision of the ladder to heaven as a sacred place. Moses is given instructions for mixing holy oil for anointing. Samuel anointed David, marking him as the appointed future king of Israel.

At Jesus’ birth, the wise men bring myrrh and frankincense, resins used in incense and oils. After Jesus’ death, the women bring oil and spices to prepare his body.

In Christianity, anointing is offered to all, not just priests and kings. In fact, Christ means “anointed one,” so anointing is right at the heart of Christianity. We are all God’s children, and we are all called to be set apart from the world of stink and decay.

Monday Motivation: The Mercy of Holy Week

"Holy Week challenges us to step outside ourselves so as to attend to the needs of others: those who long for a sympathetic ear, those in need of comfort or help. We should not simply remain in our own secure world, that of the ninety-nine sheep who never strayed from the fold, but we should go out, with Christ, in search of the one lost sheep, however far it may have wandered." -Pope Francis

"What Our Lord did say on the cross was to forgive. Forgive your Pilates, who are too weak to defend your justice. Forgive your Herods, who are too sensual to perceive your spirituality. Forgive your Judases, who think worth is to be measured in terms of silver." -Bishop Fulton Sheen 

 

St. Avitus of Vienne

Alcimus Ecdicius Avitus was born in Vienne, Gaul around 450. His father was the bishop of Vienne. At the time, episcopal honors were usually handed down through the family like noble titles. Around 490, Avitus was ordained the bishop of Vienne.

In 499, the Franks and Burgundians were at war. Vienne was taken by the Burgundians. Avitus was able to meet with both Gundobad of the Burgundians and Clovis of the Franks. Avitus seems to have had a skill for negotiating, because he also oversaw a conference between Catholic and Arian bishops at that time. Gundobad, being in the region, witnessed the bishops’ conference. Avitus and the Catholic bishops won over Gundobad and his son, Sigismund, who converted. Clovis also converted to Christianity. Avitus was known for working hard to unify fractions of the Church—Arian and Catholic, Eastern and Western.

Avitus was also a skilled writer. He wrote numerous letters and poems. His rhetoric was studied in schools in Gaul in the 4th and 5th centuries, and he is considered to be one of the influences on Milton. His letters provide rich source material for Merovingian history, including the accounts of the Burgundian and Frankish kings’ conversions.

St. Avitus died sometime between 517 and 519. His feast day is Feb. 5.