Tags
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.
Some years ago I had the privilege of visiting the town of Assisi in Italy. The visit was brief and the focus was, as one might think, the holy places associated with St. Francis. It was an extraordinary six hours, and I often long to return for a longer visit. One of my most vivid memories, however, was not of the places and stories of Francis alone – although those remain as well – but of walking down the path to the Church of San Damiano. Somehow, the olive trees that lined the path seemed to shimmer in the sunlight as if they were saying to me, “Pay attention, for this place you are approaching is extraordinarily holy.” San Damiano became the home of St. Clare and her followers in 1212 and she never left but died there on August 11, 1253. The intense holiness of the saint and her Sisters, who lived a poor and very simple life of prayer, can be felt in the walls of the refectory, in the oratory where they prayed and the dormitory where a cross marks the spot of Clare’s death. What, one wonders, creates such a living vibration in a place where life was so “daily?” Intention and motivation, I suspect. A famous quote of St. Clare gives a hint of an answer.
Today is The Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, a designation that makes me, as a “cradle Catholic,” sit up and take notice. It’s the words Solemnity and Most that call attention to the holiness of Jesus as the model for life. In this way, my focus shifts from the beating and bleeding heart in the images of Jesus on the walls of many Catholic homes to a deeper consciousness that does not negate the truth of that devotion but expands and personalizes it in a new way. Lest the reader assume that I have left tradition behind, it seems important to mention that I have an image of the Sacred Heart in my prayer space at home. It is the totality of the symbols – the face of Jesus, the heart and fire illuminating it – and yes, drops of blood as a sign of his life’s sacrifice – that guides my prayer toward love each day.
It seems a very long time since I finally asked Jan Phillips to come to my hometown to share her creativity and thoughts about evolutionary consciousness. I worried that there would not be enough people to “fill the house.” She’s rather famous now. Recently, however, when I raised that concern in an e-mail message to her (having already committed to bringing her all the way from California), it was the Jan that I have known for almost 50 years that responded. Whatever number we have will be perfect, she said. The fewer there are, the deeper we can go. I’m okay with any size.
There is no possibility of missing the message in today’s text from the Letter to the Hebrews. No time for what was called “lollygagging” in the old days. These are serious times that demand our full attention. Listen then to how we are to conduct ourselves:
I found a lovely translation of the psalm for the day in Nan Merrill’s book, Psalms for Praying. The lectionary verses speak very well, I think, to the relationship between the Creator of the universe and God’s stewards – us. I offer it as a thought for the day and bow in humility at God’s generosity even as I am reminded of our responsibility for our Mother Earth.
