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Category Archives: General Reflection

Better to be Right or Together?

29 Jul

This is a simplified version of only the “First Order” branch of the Franciscan family tree.

When I tell people that I’m becoming a Franciscan friar, I have to be clear as to which type of Franciscans I mean. “Oh, like the friars at Steubenville University?” No, those are TORs. “Is that the order Benedict Groeschel started?” Nope, that’s the Franciscan Friars of Renewal. “Are you going to be on EWTN?” That’s a different group of Franciscans than mine. “Oh that’s wonderful, tell Fr. Such’n'such I said hi!” I’m not sure who that is. Maybe he’s in a different province. ”Do you run Saint Anthony Press?” Sadly no, that’s Saint John the Baptist province.

These examples are endless.

The truth is, the Franciscan family is as vast as it is splintered. As of last year, my Order, the Order of Friars Minor (the one in the middle) had 14,057 friars worldwide; in the “First Order” alone, there were also 10,771 Capuchins and 4,307 Conventuals.  If you add that to the number of Second and Third Order Franciscan sisters and brothers worldwide, you’re looking at maybe 100,000 people that follow some form of the life of Saint Francis of Assisi.

But why so many groups? Why is our history filled with so many controversial reforms and divisions?

What I learned in “Survey of Franciscan History” (the course the postulants took at Saint Bonaventure University, taught by Dominic Monti, OFM) is that Francis promoted two very strong and very competing values in his life and writings.

The first of these is the freedom of the individual friar to follow his own conscience through the inspiration of God.  Francis famously said, “I have done what is mine; may Christ teach you what is yours!” There is a rugged individualism in the spirit of the Franciscans that promotes a tremendous diversity in character, prayer life, ministry, and governance. After Francis’ own example, there is a constant need for Franciscans to upset the status quo, to go against conventional wisdom of society or even an authoritative mandate, so as to be true to self.

What’s ironic about this is that Francis also put a tremendous amount of emphasis on the submission of one’s own will so as to preserve community. Throughout the Rule that Francis wrote, he demands that his followers be obedient always, not going against the wishes of the Church or Order, so as to avoid scandal and division.

Even without any knowledge of Franciscan history, I’m sure you can see a problem with this. What happens when, as is the case with every reform group, the friars no longer believe that the majority is staying true to the will of Francis? Is a friar compelled to compromise for the sake of unity, or be relentless for the sake of authenticity? When it came to issues over a friars ability to use money, the right to own property and accept donations, run parishes, and the proper attire (yes, they argued over shoes), there existed this problem. Both sides made legitimate arguments based on Francis’ Rule, and the consequences seemed inevitable: the Order split.

While I don’t see any significant schisms occurring within the Order any time soon, this is a dilemma that I will have to face (and have faced already) throughout my life as a friar. What happens when it’s time to buy a new car, appliance, piece of furniture, or whatever it may be, and I have a different perception of the vow of poverty than others in my house? What happens when a group of friars doesn’t want to wear their habits on a particular occasion, but I do? What happens when a community prays more or less often than I would like, or in a different way?

In each of these cases, there is an important question I have to ask myself: Is it better to be “right” or to be together? Sure, I could follow my own conscience, be a rebel, and live how I see fit no matter how my brothers react. There are times when this will be needed and I hope to have the courage to do so. But there will also be times when being “right” isn’t worth the consequence of being alone. Sometimes the best thing to do will be to submit my will to others for the sake of the whole. In these cases, I hope that I have the humility and “others-centeredness” to maintain a healthy fraternity.

So, is it better to be “right” or together? Such a question is nothing more than a false dichotomy. Neither are worthwhile ends in themselves because they sacrifice a critical Franciscan value for the sake of the other. It is only in striving for both, keeping contrary values in healthy tension, that I wish to live out my Franciscan life.

 
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Posted by on July 29, 2012 in Fraternity, General Reflection

 

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Solidarity With the Poor

11 Jul

As I was completing the assigned readings for class the other day, I came across a line in Maurice Carmody’s book The Franciscan Story that I found particularly helpful as a point of reflection.  Within a section chronicling the first days of the movement, Carmody has this to say about the earliest brothers’ need for a simply lifestyle:

At the heart of their brotherhood lay the conviction that they were called to live in solidarity with the poor, to work alongside them or, if necessary, to join them in begging.  If they had given up work, it is hard to see how their way of life, which did not correspond with the traditional forms of religious living at the time, could have survived.  Solidarity without work was impossible and begging would have been nothing more than a selfish intrusion into the world of the poor.

I am drawn especially to the last line and the dilemma that all who wish to live in solidarity with the poor have to face: how poor does one have to be “to be in solidarity with the poor?” Does solidarity simply mean being conscious of their troubles and working so as not to worsen them? Does it mean renouncing all of one’s worth, power, and status so as to live side-by-side with the homeless, begging for food to make a living?

What I take from this passage (and others) is twofold: No one can be in solidarity with the poor without experiencing true poverty for oneself, and that poverty is not something to be romanticized as an end in itself.

In order to be in solidarity with the poor, he wanted to know the poor by experiencing what they experienced.  He lived where they lived, ate what they ate, and wore what they wore. In doing so, he not only experienced the physical struggles of their poor conditions, but also the psychological ones, like the stress of living without a safety net.

Francis was also conscious of the effect this would have and asked, does it help the poor if we are all just as poor? I’m reminded of a scene from a popular movie: witnessing a woman trapped in a bear exhibit at a zoo, the only four men around that notice her life-threatening situation decide to jump into the pit with her rather than get help.  At that point, they were of course in solidarity with the trapped woman; on the other hand, they made her situation worse because there was now no one to help, and if help ever came they would need to help five people instead of just one. The same is true with Francis: had he attempted live at same level of poverty as those incapable of helping themselves, begging when he was capable of working, he would have simply made the life of the poor harder, and at what gain?

As a friar in the modern world, I will be faced with many difficult questions that require compromise and critical thinking so as to live as best I can withand for the poor. With very little way of answering any of them now, here are a few things I’ve been wondering:

  • Is it better to buy higher quality products, i.e. cars, appliances, that will last longer and will certainly cost less in the long wrong, or to only purchase what the poor are capable of buying and deal with the same frustrations of lower quality products?
  • Taking this question to the extreme (but still and important question), should we even own cars, washing and drying machines, and computers, or should we be forced to use public transit, laundry mats, and libraries for these needs like the poor are?
  • Is it better to buy more expensive organic foods, products that are better for the environment, the workers, and our health, all things that friars should be conscious of, or do we resort to buying the cheapest foods we can find and distribute the savings to the poor?
  • Is it better to become vegetarians, recognizing that meat is expensive, bad for the environment (in the amount it is currently consumed), and not always readily available for the poor, or do we simply try to provide more adequate nutrition to all?

I don’t think that there is a universally correct answer to questions like these, but I do think we can always strive for more nuanced ways to both be in solidarity with the poor and to serve them better.  Ultimately, its helpful to remember that Jesus was not the poorest person in history, and so our imitation of him does not require us to be either. There is such a thing as dehumanizing poverty, poverty that strips a person of dignity and defaces God’s creation.  In understanding this, we who seek to live in solidarity with the poor should never cross this line ourselves, foolishly and selfishly accepting less than human conditions.  What good is it for the poor for us to jump into the bear pit? I think there are better ways to do justice to our neighbor than to take on their pain just to see how it feels. Then again, I speak from ideals and theories; let’s see what a few more years and some real life experience brings, shall we?

 
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Posted by on July 11, 2012 in General Reflection

 

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Lent Mid-Terms

21 Mar

66% isn't great for a test, but it's not bad as far as Lent goes!

If you’ll remember from No Pain, No Gain, I mentioned that I would be making two sacrifices during Lent this year: 1) a reduction in my consumption of meat, and 2) taking shorter, more water-efficient showers. In addition to these two commitments, I decided to also spend the hour after dinner with scripture rather than with reruns of 30 Rock.

So, now more than halfway through the Lenten season, how am I doing you ask? Let’s just say two out of three ain’t bad!

Reducing almost all of the meat from my diet has not been easy at all, but I have to say, easier than I had expected. Keen from the start about not being a vegetarian, I have been pretty strict about eating meat once or twice a week, no more and certainly no less. While there are usually quality, non-meat options available that leave me just as full as I would normally be, I have found great satisfaction in the few instances in which there were not quality alternatives. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with going hungry once in a while (as long as its voluntary). Not only is it a wonderful penitential act, it offers a concrete experience of the hunger that so many experience each day, and dropping any feelings of entitlement that “I deserve” something.

Similarly, with the exception of the first few days, I’ve had surprisingly little problem with the adjusted showers. To insure that I am being water-efficient (and to up the ante on the penance), I have been turning off the water during the shower when it’s not in use. The shock of cold can be difficult in the morning, but it certainly reminds me not to take water for granted and to view the showering process in more of utilitarian rather than luxurious way (as it is certainly a luxury in the eyes of many people throughout the world).

My last Lenten commitment has unfortunately not panned out as well. Part of is it my own laziness, but most of it is simply the nature of our schedule: the 7:00 hour of our day has been very irregular given our travels and periodic nightly meetings, and it’s difficult to commit to anything regularly. I have not watched a single rerun of 30 Rock, but at the same time have filled that hour with other tasks. Does that almost count?

Ultimately, the success or failure of Lent does not depend on my ability to observe a given task or achieve an arbitrary goal. Lent is not simply a season for punishing oneself for being a sinner. Instead, I need to ask myself, how have these three tasks helped me grow closer to God, and am I more prepared for Easter than I was before?

In that way, I have to say that Lent has been a success (so far). Each of these commitments have been steps forward in action, flowing from a contrite heart and true faith, to be better reconciled with God, self, others, and God’s created order. Thus, when Lent is over and we are rejoicing in the season of Easter, I don’t plan on dropping these commitments to return to my old habits. What would the point of Lent be if our changed heart does not continue? This is not to say that my old habits are necessarily sinful, but that after having seen how these new habits have helped me grow in awareness and closeness to God, a return to the old ones would be entirely fruitless, and completely illogical.

Lent, like life as a friar, is all about putting on a new habit for the future.

***

As for the hermitage retreat last week, there was simply too much that happened for me to post about it right away. Given that I had almost five full days in complete solitude to pray and think, I’m going to need a bit more time to decompress and organize my thoughts before I can share it with everyone. Without putting any sort of time-table on it, look for a post about that in the future! For the time being, check out the Shutterfly website here for a few sneak peek pictures.

 
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Posted by on March 21, 2012 in General Reflection

 

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Mine!

24 Feb

Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!

This past Sunday, the postulants took a 24-hour hiatus from the phone, computer, television, newspaper, and general conversation so as to devote an entire day to prayer and meditation. We were free to spend it however we pleased as long as there was an emphasis on renewal and contemplation (for some of this, this even meant intense exercise, as that can be a great time to think!)

Though I found the many things to be fruitful and the day to be rejuvenating in general, rereading parts of C.S. Lewis’ The Screwtape Letters ended up being the most revelatory, “blindsiding” me with a truth I needed to hear: “my” time is not my own.

Now you will have noticed that nothing throws him into a passion so easily as to find a tract of time which he reckoned on having at this own disposal unexpectedly taken from him. It is the unexpected visitor (when he looked forward to a quiet evening), or the friend’s talkative wife (turning up when he looked forward to a tête-a-tête with the friend), that throw him out of gear. Now he is not yet so uncharitable or slothful that these small demands on his courtesy are in themselves too much for it. They anger him because he regards his time as his own and feels that it is being stolen. You must therefore zealously guard in his mind the curious assumption “My time is my own” (Letter 21, page 111-112)

The timing couldn’t have been any more perfect. No more than twenty minutes prior to reading this passage, I was informed that our Spanish class would replace the scheduled afternoon meeting for the next day, that the original meeting would be changed to the evening (my time), and that another meeting would be scheduled another night (also my time). No sooner do I get home do I read this passage, which continues, “The man can neither make, nor retain, one moment of time; it all comes to him by pure gift.”

BOOM! Wakeup call! In as many words, this passage not only captures the most frustrating aspect of postulant life, it forced me to see its true source: me. When I stepped back and asked myself why I got frustrated with these common occurances, I realized that it wasn’t because the unplanned tasks were difficult, painful, or even useless; the source of my frustration was an unfounded assumption that I had exclusive possession of certain time periods. Rather on focusing on the great gift that I have each and every day to work, pray, eat, sacrifice, and so on, I was stuck into believing that I was entitled to a time each day to do whatever I pleased, and that the aforementioned “gifts” were actually inhibitors to that time.

As a Christian, let alone a friar in training, this possessive idea of “mine” can be a dangerous one. Left unexamined, it can permeate beyond time into all aspects of our lives until we become disillusioned into thinking we are the Lord of our own lives:

And all the time the joke is that the word “Mine” in its fully possessive sense cannot be uttered by a human being about anything. In the long run either Our Father or the Enemy will say “Mine” of each thing that exists, and specially of each man. They will find out in the end, never fear, to whom their time, their souls, and their bodies really belong–certainly not to them, whatever happens (Letter 21, page 114-115).

As I move forward in formation, I must always remind myself of the wisdom in this letter: everything that I have, whether it be time, material possessions, a functioning mind, or good health, are “mine” not because I created them or am their sole controllers, but because they have been gifted to me by God. Thus, a worldview firmly rooted in this wisdom, one that I must challenge myself to accept each day, no longer wishes to differentiate between “mine” and “not mine.” Rather, it wishes to use and share all that we have for the sake of loving God, self, neighbor, and the created order, acting with humility and gratitude for all that we have been given. The first step in forming myself in this way is accepting that God is my all, and that of me, he says, “Mine.”

 
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Posted by on February 24, 2012 in General Reflection, Postulancy

 

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No Pain, No Gain

19 Feb

Sure, it sounds ridiculous, but isn't this what our actions say?

Back in October, I wrote in the post Ecological Justice that the care for the environment is just as important as economics and peace when it comes to upholding justice for all humanity. The effects of pollution, climate change, scarcity of natural resources, deficiency of naturally clean drinking water, and so on, hurt the poor much more significantly than does the rich (as well as being a primary source of conflict in economics and peace). Last week we attended a different workshop in Brentwood, NY, in which the speaker reiterated these same points.

The discouraging part about both of these lectures was that both speakers focused almost entirely on outside forces rather than looking at the effects caused by normal individuals. There’s no doubt that multinational corporations are to blame for a lot of the environmental degradation in the world, but who are the ones actually buying, using, and demanding more? The truth is, if we ever want to see to it that the documents of the Church actually get put into action, it’s going to require the individual consumer like you and me to put our money where our mouths are.

Unfortunately, I’m finding in religious communities and the secular world alike that we’re not yet willing to do that: either we don’t quite understand how drastic the changes need to be, or we’ve become too attached to the present comforts of overindulgence that we’re unwilling to enact them. On one side, sentiments like “little changes make a big difference” merely offer justification for unsustainable lifestyles, while on the other, sentiments like “what I do, good or bad, isn’t going to have much effect” place all responsibility on the world community while failing to recognize oneself as a member of that community. If we’re going to actually enact doctrines of ecological justice, it needs to start with the individual, and the actions need to be serious.

So what am I doing, you ask? In conjunction with Lent, I’ve decided to add to my list of environmentally sustainable habits a two major inconveniences as a way to remind myself of the injustices of which I am partly responsible, and to call to mind two things that I take for granted in the “First World.”

The biggest of these is the reduction of meat in my diet. Believe it or not, our dependency on cows and other animals for every meal has resulted in the production of dangerous levels of methane in our air, as well as higher rates of polluted water and increased deforestation. My goal is to reduce the amount of meals containing meat each week to only one or two, so as to bring attention to the issue while still remaining healthy.

The second inconvenience is going to be a drastic reduction in the amount of water I consume in the shower. As environmentally conscience I am, I have to admit that I’m a huge culprit when it comes to extended hot showers. I definitely take for granted the amount of (clean) water I use and the amount of energy needed to make it warm, and consume more than I need for the sake of comfort while others do not have enough for the sake of necessity. In a similar way to the meat reduction, it’s not in my best interest to remove showers completely, but a reduction will help to bring to my attention something I have taken for granted for many years.

In a lot of ways, Lent and ecological action go hand in hand: both begin with an examination of self, particularly how one relates God and others; both encourage sacrifice and penance as a means for reconciliation; both prepare oneself in thought and deed to live rightly in a future soon to come. By means of these two inconveniences, I hope to find myself more rightly oriented to God, others, self, and the created order by the time of Easter, reminding myself all along the way, “No pain, no gain.”

 
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Posted by on February 19, 2012 in General Reflection, Justice

 

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Time to Read

14 Dec

One of the great things about this year is that I have a lot of time to read. Here’s what I’m focusing on right now.

Francis of Assisi: Early Documents

This is a book that no friar should be without. Part of a three volume set, this book includes everything that Francis ever wrote, including the Canticle of the Creatures, The Admonitions, The Earlier and Later Rules, and The Testament, as well as a long list of prayers and letters written to and for members of the order. Together, it amazingly takes up the first 126 pages of the book, a fact that is quite significant when one realizes the time in which he wrote and the lack of formal education and stability in his life. The rest of the book, as well as the other two books in the series, is made up of biographies, papal encyclicals, and liturgical texts written about Francis within the first few centuries after his death.

Because Francis has probably the largest hagiography of any saint (much of which is based in folklore and legend) it’s impossible to know who Francis actually was without reading the earliest and most authentic sources. So far, I’ve read about half of the texts penned by Francis himself as well as his earliest known biography.

The Catholic Study Bible (NAB Translation)

With the early documents, this is the other text that a friar can never be without. Besides being a critical text for all Christians, Francis was very well read in the Bible and thus, his life and Rule can only be understood by reading it.

After having read Luke and Mark’s Gospels twice each, I moved to the Old Testament for an understanding of Israelite history. Beginning the tour with 1 and 2 Samuel, and I plan to continue with 1 and 2 Kings, Jeremiah, and a minor prophet before returning to the New Testament to finish the Gospels and explore a few of Paul’s letters.

For me, it was/is critical to have a plan. Since the book is so large, it can be overwhelming to even start because there is a feeling that no matter how much reading I do, it can never be finished. By picking out a few critical books (some are just more important than others in the Salvation History narrative), and reading a few pages a day, the task is much more manageable and certainly more fulfilling.

In the Spirit of Francis and the Sultan

Over the years I’ve developed a real interest in ecumenism and inter-religious dialogue, embracing the Church’s efforts for peace and reconciliation among all of the world’s peoples. It’s no surprise, then, that I’ve taken to Francis’ encounter with the Sultan as a source of great inspiration: in a time when relations between Muslims and Christians were even worse than they are today, these two men found a way to speak peacefully, respect one another, and depart as equals to one another.

Though the book recognizes that there is little historical detail to the content of their meeting, the meeting in and of itself was a great first step in relations, and there is much to be learned from it to be used in our world today. Beginning with a basic overview of the two faiths, the authors point out the many similarities that could be used as a point of contact, as well as the many differences as a point of challenge to approach with caution, all with the hopes that with greater understanding will come more fruitful interactions, and ultimately peace.

St. Anthony of Padua: Wisdom for Today

Though most famous for being the saint for finding lost things, St. Anthony of Padua is also considered one of the greatest preachers of all time. This book is a compilation of excerpts from his homilies and writings, organized and commented on by a friar in the 1970s. Using it as more of a prayer/meditation aid than an academic read, I’ve been reading a page or two of this book every few days as a starting point for reflection.

 
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Posted by on December 14, 2011 in General Reflection

 

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Rethinking the “Season of Giving”

04 Dec

Sometimes, this is what Christmas feels like to me.

As a “friar in training,” I’m pretty poor. I have enough to cover all my my needs and a few of my wants, but there’s no room for saving or extravagance. This, I have absolutely no complaints about.

One of the things that this forces me to do is to focus myself much better on the true meaning of the Advent and Christmas seasons. Most of my life I have been caught up in the “Season of Giving,” in which the holiday was dictated by things, either given or received; the great arrival that we awaited came in a box, not a manger. Even in the past few years when I’ve explicitly asked friends and family to abstain from buying me things, there has still been both a desire and a pressure to give to others (usually in the form of a purchased gift) which has inevitably led me to focus more on things and less on Jesus.

This year, I hope to no one’s surprise, I will not be buying any gifts for my friends and family members. For the amount I could possibly spend on each person, it is simply not worth the trouble. This, however, doesn’t mean that I will be ditching the sentiment altogether: there’s something to be said about the altruistic nature of the holiday that doesn’t need to be thrown away with the consumeristic “bathwater.”

Instead of focusing on the time as the “Season of Giving,” I’m going to try to see it as the “Season for Faith, Hope, and Love,” in which the three cardinal virtues will be my gifts to others. Understanding that gift giving is only one way to show affection to others, my lack of financial means will force me to try a number of the others: quality time, words of affirmation, acts of service, and touch.

I certainly believe that it is situations such as these, facing circumstances that upset the status quo of our lives, that we come to see the world in a different (and usually better) way, learn a bit more about ourselves, and ultimately grow closer to God and neighbor. I pray that this Christmas will be one filled with new experiences centered around the hope and joy of the coming Lord.

 
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Posted by on December 4, 2011 in General Reflection

 

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“I think of it like a…”

23 Nov

Christ is the light of the world.

I like to think of God’s presence as being similar to light. It is source by which we can see and know things; it is brighter in some places than others; and one would have to search high and low to find a place void of it completely. God is most everywhere, yes, but concentrated in certain places more than others.

 

This used to be a huge body of water.

 

Sometimes I have to remind myself not to follow the examples of Death Valley or the Dead Sea. The former gave so much of itself without replenishment that it ended up dry and withered, incapable of giving any longer; the latter took so much from others without sharing that it became so salty that it cannot support life.

Letting go can hurt more than holding on.

 

Purgatory is like a powerfully clenched fist refusing to let go. The only way out is accepting, forgiving, and releasing one’s will. There is no outside force violently ripping the hand open and causing pain. There’s only the inside pain caused by the slow realization that the thing it’s holding isn’t what it truly wants anymore, and finding a way to let it go.

Same thing, three forms

 

 

Trying to wrap my head around one God as three persons is difficult. The best I can do is remember that ice, water, and steam are all the same chemical but each take different forms.

 

We are the "Go Between" God and the world.

I think we’re each like an individual GOBO, an apparatus placed on the front of a light with a specific shape or color for use in theatre (literally a “Goes before optics” or “Go Between”). By itself, it projects nothing; it needs a light source. Each Gobo comes with its own individual angles, colors, and levels of transparency through which the light must pass, causing the same light source to be projected in different ways. For me, it’s better than the image of empty pipe that connects God to the world because it accepts that we can’t ever be objectively unbiased; how we accept God, interpret him, and transmit him are all biases we bring to the world.

 
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Posted by on November 23, 2011 in General Reflection

 

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Paradise Lost and Found

22 Nov

In the beginning, there was harmony. All was good, and all was right with existence. All of God’s creation was in perfect communion with God. It was rightly called Paradise.

Humanity forgot its nature. It wished to be greater; it wished to be separate. With an act of disobedience, it brought forth a new creation: separation. A crack in the glass, stain on the cloth, splinter in the wood.

Perfect communion was gone, an irreparable break left in its place.

The first sin. Paradise lost.

Separation compounds. It begets only itself. Humanity moves further from God; from creation; from community; from itself. It knows not its way. It is rightly called Fallen.

A reminder of its great nature: Incarnation; God made flesh; a bond renewed, intensified, perfected. God wished to be one. With an act of obedience, they were once again: reconciliation. The crack, the stain, the splinter no more; renewed once and for all. 

Perfect communion can return, a bridge had been built.

The last sacrifice. Paradise found. 

 
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Posted by on November 22, 2011 in General Reflection

 

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A Friendly Reminder

15 Nov

Found on a New York street between Rockefeller Center and St. Patrick's Cathedral, this statue of Francis is a microcosm of his life: remind those with great wealth and power to be humble before their God through simplicity and radical obedience.

One day, a migrant worker was traveling through a town when a Rabbi spotted him and started a conversation. “Who do you work for,” the Rabbi asked. The man replied, “I do not work for anyone. I just travel from town to town and try to make a living. What about you? Who do you work for?” Surprised, the Rabbi thought to himself, I’m clearly a Rabbi. I am in charge of the Temple, the law, and all of my people. How does he not know this? As he thought, he realized that none of these were sufficient answers to the question: Who do I work for? He realized at that point that he had been working for himself the whole time, and that he should have been working for God. He said to the man, “How would you like to work for me? All you have to do if follow me around when I’m in the Temple, enforcing the law, and leading my people, and remind me for whom I work in case I forget again.”

In the first session of our workshop entitled “The Future of Religious Life,” Seán Salmon, FMS, posed this story to us with a surprising message: as women and men religious, we must always play the role of the migrant worker, not the Rabbi. Through our radical expressions of poverty, chastity, and obedience, we must always remind the Church for whom it works, unafraid to upset the status quo of the hierarchy. He reminded us of the many reforms in the Church, and how it is often religious orders that bring the Church back down to earth; bring sinners back to an uninviting institution; and push the Church ahead when it is stuck in stagnation. The day that we become unable or unwilling to remind the Church of this detail, trading counter-culture for comfort, the Gospel for an institution, the spirit of the law for the letter of the law, is the day that the Church begins to forget.

For an introduction to a workshop, I can’t think of too many more motivating messages than that! The whole time I was thinking about Francis’ message to the very corrupt Church at the time, and the example he lived each day as a reminder. He didn’t call for a violent upheaval of the Church leaders or choose to leave it to start his own: he lived what he believed to be the truest expression of the Gospel, not caring whether or not it matched the lives of the holy men and women around him. This act of “Preaching the Gospel at all times, using words when necessary” (a quote that he did not actually say), inspired thousands of people, both clergy and lay, to give up their previous lives and live a life of great reform in the Church. It is this sort of life that each and every one of us hopes to exemplify, sending a friendly reminder to those who lead that the Church does not work for itself: it works for God. Let us never allow it forget that.

 

 
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Posted by on November 15, 2011 in General Reflection, Workshop

 
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