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gratitude, holiness, humility, humor, Job, Pope John XXIII, saint, Second Vatican Council, The Sophia Center for Spirituality
Today we celebrate Pope John XXIII, canonized (some would add “finally!”) by Pope Francis in 2014. The website franciscanmedia.org opens today’s reflection with a wonderful sentence: “A shy, retiring man with a wonderful sense of humor, Cardinal Angelo Roncalli became our beloved Pope St. John XXIII.” It is well known that he was elected by the College of Cardinals as a stop-gap pope to give them time to “get the politics ironed out for a more permanent candidate.” The Holy Spirit had other plans, however, as John XXIII rocked the Church by calling the Second Vatican Council, an aggiornamento (updating) that changed the face of Roman Catholicism for all time.
We remember Pope John for that cataclysmic event (1962-1965) as if he had never done anything in his life before, but here are a few of his credentials that should have alerted people to his fitness for the “job” of Pope even before the Council.
He was the eldest son of a farm family, simple and not interested in the limelight but rather proud of his down-to-earth roots. Having served as a stretcher bearer in World War I, he experienced war firsthand. After ordination to the priesthood he became a canon lawyer, secretary to his bishop, history teacher in the seminary and publisher of the diocesan newspaper in Rome. Subsequently, he was Italy’s national director for the Society for the Propagation of the Faith while also teaching in the seminary. He served as a papal diplomat in Bulgaria, Turkey and France. During World War II he became acquainted with Orthodox Church leaders and with the help of Germany’s ambassador to Turkey, helped save an estimated 24,000 Jewish people. As a cardinal, he was the Patriarch of Venice and a residential bishop, finally being elected Pope in his 78th year. As pope, He worked with political and religious leaders around the world and was deeply involved in efforts to resolve the Cuban missile crisis. He enlarged the membership of the College of Cardinals, making it more international, and wrote important encyclical letters to the world, most famously about the Church: Mater et magistra (Mother and Teacher) and the world: Pacem in terris (Peace on Earth).
It could be said that all of those credentials, so wonderfully documented at www.franciscanmedia.org, are overshadowed by his holiness and humility. Although it is useless to quantify such qualities, we would do well to think on these things and pray in gratitude for this saintly friend of God who served his Church and the world so well.
I have started this post three times in the past two minutes and am grateful for the technology that includes a “delete” button. It’s not that I have one thought stream; rather, there are too many words rumbling around in my head with no clear way to express anything. This happens sometimes when too much is going on and especially as I prepare to travel. It’s as if I need to be sure I have everything taken care of before I leave, especially remembering (of course) what needs to go with me.
It is said that “old habits die hard.” I was aware of that in a small way during the days of retreat from which I returned yesterday. Each morning when I awoke to the sounds of silence one of my first thoughts was of my daily writing task. Since I had announced the 5-day hiatus, I was able with just a grateful breath to simply turn toward the silence and enter the day where the only speaking was in sessions of prayer & reflection on the mystical practices of Sufism. What became the most obvious truth for me swirled around and into every hour of the day in the words of the chant: Wherever I turn, there is the face of God.
Today is the feast of St. Kateri Tekakwitha, the first Native American saint, whom we New Yorkers claim for our own. Kateri was born in 1656 in what is now Auriesville, New York and died only 24 years later. The daughter of a Mohawk chief and an Algonquin mother, she became an orphan at age four when a smallpox epidemic claimed both her parents and her brother. Her short life was one of generosity and holiness, influenced by Jesuit missionaries and her own deep faith.
Last evening I went to the Baccalaureate worship service for graduating seniors of the high school where I spent my first thirteen years as a teacher. It took place in the largest church in our area. (We used to call it “The Stardust Ballroom” because seating is in the round and there is recessed lighting throughout – a very “modern” venue in the 1970s.) Although the population of the school has diminished greatly over the years, the church was quite crowded with families that probably included some of my students who are now celebrating their grandchildren’s commencement. I was pleasantly surprised by the beauty of the service which ran like clockwork and included excellent (and brief) speakers for welcoming and thanking those in attendance, great lectors and beautiful music suitable to the youth but also very reverent. Two of the musical selections, solos by members of the class, were actually jaw-dropping. The first was a lovely young lady with a voice bigger than she was and then a young man, accompanied by a great cellist from his class, who sang the traditional and well-loved Latin hymn, Panis angelicus, which reached the entire church simply by the power of his voice. I was told that he has received a full scholarship to the Juilliard School of Music.
Again yesterday I was reminded of the importance of spiritual practice but this time that message came in a group gathering. Five of the seven members of our “practice circle” who were able to be present came together in Estelle’s lovely living room for what has become an increasingly important monthly meeting. As we first checked in with present events in our personal lives – some painful or difficult – we also expressed our gratitude for the sunshine and promise of spring (regardless of the 25 degree temperature and mounds of snow outside!) as well as our enthusiasm for being together.
I’m always interested when the Psalm response in the lectionary consists of some verses from a long psalm that fit a specific purpose directly without any extraneous “sidebars” of intervening verses. Today my antenna was up because the stated title of Psalm 50 in the book Ancient Songs Sung Anew was “God Calls the World to Listen.” Since I had spent yesterday presenting to two different groups on the topic of “The Art of Sacred Listening” I was, you might say, “all ears” for the message. I wasn’t disappointed. Here are the salient points.
This morning, a cautionary tale. The lesson: stay always in the present moment. It is all that we ever can depend on.
On days like today when I read Paul’s directives about doing “everything for the glory of God,” I find myself saying, “Yup…Okay…I’ll avoid giving offense…Yes…I got that…” or words to that effect – assuming that I have taken Paul’s words to heart and that I’ll remember when situations arise that call for attention to my “spiritual nature.” If I’m honest I have to admit that sometimes I’m soaring on automatic pilot at these times because the words are so familiar. Usually it’s the extreme situations that call our attention more quickly to a response.
Jealousy is a very dangerous trait in a person. It seems to me a bit more serious than envy although it appears in the dictionary as envy’s synonym. I might be envious of someone’s good looks or good luck but, if I have a positive attitude about my own life, I don’t spend a lot of time comparing my lot with those of others. If jealousy takes hold of my life, however, it can lead to wishing harm to others – sometimes instigating events that will cause very bad things to happen.