The Master of Arts in Spirituality program is giving away two pairs of tickets for the Dalai Lama’s visit! First prize will be a pair of tickets to the public talk on May 19 (worth $200) and second prize will be a pair of tickets to the public teaching on May 20 (worth $150). To enter, simply ‘Like’ the MAS Facebook page: Click here.
Winners will be announced on Monday, May 13.
The MAS program is ecumenical, and the students strive to learn from one another about each other’s traditions. Carrie Meyer-McGrath, a Roman Catholic and current student in the program, wrote the following to assist her Protestant brothers and sisters to understand her reaction to the news of Pope Francis’ election.
Yesterday I got a lot of questions from my Protestant and Reformed colleagues about Pope Francis. I also got a lot of questions from my family at varying levels of engagement with the Roman Catholic Church. I also promised you a more critical and less doe-eyed account of my thoughts and so here goes.
And So – I present:
A veritable FAQ of my feelings about Pope Francis.
Really it’s a SAQ (sometimes asked questions)
Question – How are you feeling about the election of Pope Francis and did you expect it?
I am pretty stoked and no, no way, did I expect him. To be fair, I tried not to expect anything. Why? I hate losing and being wrong. Also, I realize the church isn’t about me and my North American expectations and I don’t know enough about the Cardinals to make a guess. That said, I am delighted by the choice for a few reasons.
Please explain…
He is from Latin America where 40% of the world’s Catholics are. That is a huge piece of the pie. It’s almost half of the pie. This is a part of the world that has struggled with war, poverty, and oppression and has often been overlooked. Yet, remains faithful and that faith has been an example for the world. I am excited by the fact that Pope Francis’ election affirms this part of the world. Seeks to listen to this part of the world and reminds Europe and the US that the church is bigger and can look different than we know it to look.
He is a Jesuit. Which is important both personally and a politically.
Personally, I was educated and shaped by the Jesuits theologically and spiritually. From them I learned to see God in all things, to participate and imagine Scripture, open my eyes and heart to the poor, and I received a rock solid theological training. Politically, having a Jesuit in the top position is a shake up to routine.
Politically, Traditionally the Jesuits have been critical of the hierarchy, though fierce defenders of the church and of the pope. For this reason, Francis is a bit of a wildcard, but is not unfamiliar with administration and making hard decisions. He was fine to make unpopular decisions when bishop of Buenos Ares, and I think he’ll do the same in Rome. I believe he will be fine making the hard decisions of hiring, firing, and administrating.
What do you make of his name?
It’s a brilliant move for a few reasons, not least is that it is fresh.
First it demonstrates that he understands himself as someone who is called to rebuild the church as St. Francis of Assisi was called to in his vision Francis, Go and rebuild my Church, which you can see has fallen into ruin. This is an acknowledgment that the church is in need of some repair work and he is willing to do it.
It also points to the way in which, as a cardinal and already as a pope, he has opted to live a life of simplicity. You have heard the stories. In Argentina he lived in a simple apartment, cooking for himself and taking the bus. He opted to ride back from conclave not in the limo, but with his brother bishops on the bus. He didn’t wear the mink stole of the bling-y cross when he was presented at St. Peters. This morning, he schlepped his own luggage and paid his own bill in Rome when he could have sent someone else to do these things.
The name nods to his love of the poor and the outcast – something he has lived. Kissing the feet of AIDS patients. Telling his priests that they’d better baptize children born to unwed mothers or run the risk of being hypocrites.
Traditionally, the Jesuits and the Franciscans have been rivals. The two groups have similar missions that they come at from different angles. In taking the name Francis he has already effected a unity and attempted to knit the church as one community.
Question – But, isn’t he pretty conservative? I mean, he made some painful comments about gay marriage and families.
No doubt about it. He is doctrinally orthodox. So much so that he was reported to have estranged himself from some of his Jesuit bothers. (Consider my last comments and the irony – too orthodox for the Jesuits and too Jesuit for the Curia.) Though there is no question of the dignity and goodness of LGBTQ peoples in church teaching, the Roman Catholic Church is currently not in support of gay marriage and partnerships. The comments he made to that end are painful for us to read.
But really, people!? What did you expect? You don’t put your hand in a bag of Skittles and then get mad when you don’t get an M&M.
Every cardinal in the Sistine Chapel was chosen by Blessed John Paul II or Bishop Emeritus Benedict XVI, they weren’t exactly liberal. Many weren’t even moderate. Those ole boys were conservative on moral issues and Pope Francis is going to be the same. But, his affection for people gives me hope, his shepherd’s heart, clearly demonstrated by his behavior last night is a promise.
And there is this to keep in mind about perspective. The Roman Catholic Church has 1.3billion people and they are divided like this:
Notice, North American and Europe Catholics are only about 30% of that group globally and less each year. And not even all of the North American/ European Roman Catholics support gay marriages.
I do. I really, really do. But in a church of 1.3billion, I realize that my voice and opinion are a minority. I see that this is not the only injustice, and I see that our first job as Roman Catholics is to affirm the inherent dignity and value and Child of God-ness in every person.
Let’s get people thinking people are human as a first step.
I’m with you.
I cringed at the comments.
I hated them.
But, come on, we all expected them.
What do you think he’ll do now?
Pray a lot.
I think, he’ll start taking care of business. I suppose he may write an encyclical (a letter to the world), I image it could be about economic justice and against rampant self-serving capitalism. It will be telling who he chooses to run the Vatican. I wonder what his meeting with the Emeritus Pope will be like. What will they call each other?
Isn’t that weird, to have two living popes?
Well, we don’t. We have just the one – Pope Francis.
Sure, it’s a new thing to have a pope resign, but I think a lovely thing. I also like what it might mean for Pope Francis. Having a confidant. Someone who knows the pressure to call on, if you need it. Someone to be praying for you from a place of experience. Being alone is a difficult place to be.
The church is always new, and it’s always the same.
It’s a human institution and so it is like us, liable to mistakes and problems.
On Wednesday night, Pope Francis talked of us journeying together, and I hope that we do. I hope the election of the this new Latin American pope doesn’t change the way we look at the Vatican so much as it changes the way we look at the Church. It is bigger, it is global. We are not the center. As a matter of fact, there is no center. Maybe if we spent less time commenting on the behavior of the Vatican and more time emulating the behavior of Jesus, we would all be a little better off
In many ways, Pope Francis is both a tiny and a huge step for the Roman Catholic Church.
Let us take the tiny steps we can take together and cling to each other in hope and love.
Long Live Pope Francis.
A few places I would refer you for more reading follow.
A good profile of the Pope done prior to the election
http://ncronline.org/blogs/ncr-today/papabile-day-men-who-could-be-pope-13
An interesting account of Pope Francis’ first morning
http://www.johnthavis.com/pope-francis-first-24-hours-doing-it-his-way
Blog Reactions
http://www.trulylovethyneighbor.com/2013/03/change-takes-time.html?spref=fb http://myunquietheart.blogspot.com/2013/03/pope-francis-humble-pope.html
Tim is a 2008 graduate of the MAS program and is currently a doctoral candidate in Classical Spirituality at the Washington Theological Union in Washington, D.C. He works as a freelance retreat writer and facilitator, high and low 
ropes course instructor, and potter, striving always to “… let the Flow flow …”
In 2004 I spent five days at Ghost Ranch, Abiquiu, NM preparing for and having an encounter with a box canyon that gave rise to awe, wonder, and some disbelief. Traveling north on route 84 from Albuquerque to a retreat by Richard Rohr entitled “Men’s Rite of Passage,” I wondered what lay ahead of me. This retreat is an intense five day formal initiation for men. After three days of calling for the contemplative mind to awaken, looking at all angles of wounds, death, and grief, day four was initiation day. Sent out to fast and be with the desert for seven plus hours, I walked up the box canyon, noting the cliffs some two hundred feet high on both sides, no way out except the way that had led me there. Wendell Berry writes that in places such as this, if one can only learn to wait and be patient, one can communicate with the surroundings. What would the desert teach me? That day I staked out a twelve foot square and spent the day within that space, naked, contemplating, exploring from earth to sky, and experiencing all I could of the desert, everything around my place. Overwhelmed by feeling a part of the tall mesas, gliding eagles, parched sand, searching insects, grazing deer, marshmallow clouded sky, God’s created desert called me to go deep into my heart: Who am I? Why am I here in this place at this time of creation? How did I become me? Looking around, I could see the masculine power, fieriness, and death of the desert. Looking again, I saw Mother Earth creating, giving birth, and uniting everything, even me, with the natural world. How beautiful the experience of embracing the desert’s careless darkness. At day‘s end, I left my space and dove into a small pond at the mouth of the box canyon and came out of the water, baptized by our creative God, with an indescribable freedom arising from a conscious awareness that I’m not in control and that my life is not about me. I saw my true self. I felt an unexplainable sense of gratitude for the sufferings and the joys of my life, sacred wounds and sacred pleasures. I had an awareness of a balance between the masculine and feminine within me, a wholeness I will never forget. I truly felt that, in the words of Richard Rohr, “Everything belongs.” I simply saw myself, my life, my God and all of creation differently. It was exhilarating to have had the Ghost Ranch experience. It is especially exciting now to relive that moment and that time, those five days in the desert which changed my life forever because Richard Rohr will be in Louisville in May for the Festival of Faiths. I wonder what lies ahead.
Cory Lockhart is a graduate of the MAS program. She is a teacher, writer, and aspiring photographer from Louisville, KY. She enjoys traveling, particularly when she can integrate it with her interest social justice. To read more of her writing, visit her blog: http://trulylovethyneighbor.blogspot.com.
I will not live in fear.
When I first had this thought, I had recently watched “Fahrenheit 9/11” and “Bowling for Columbine,” and had read The Powers that Be by Walter Wink and Nonviolent Soldier of Islam by Eknath Easwaran. This was only a few weeks after the school shooting in Connecticut.
Around this time, I saw many a Facebook post asserting the right and necessity to have guns for protection. Such statements restrict the meaning of “protection” to the detriment of any creative life-affirming notion of the word. Is violence or threat of violence the only way to protect?
More importantly: What are people so afraid of?
Many people declaring their allegiance to guns would call themselves Christians. Before I go on, I’ll say that I don’t believe that no one should have a gun. However, I am more than skeptical when a Christian claims that having a gun is both a necessity and a God-given right. I’m not a Biblical scholar, but I’m pretty sure there’s nothing in the Bible about the right to own a gun.
I am sure that Jesus’ central message was – IS – to love God and to love our neighbor (Matthew 22:36-39), not to fear them. I am certain that Jesus said we should love our enemies (Matthew 5:43-44), not fear them. One of my favorite bumper stickers reads, “When Jesus said ‘Love your enemy,’ I think he probably meant don’t kill them.” The messages of loving God, our neighbor, and even our enemy do not have asterisks with small print outlining exceptions to those commands.
When I look at Jesus’ actions, I see that he did not live in fear and he did not use violence. Instead, Jesus accepted the violence done to him. He did it not out of cowardice or acceptance of the structures that employed institutional violence, but rather to bring to light the nature of those structures. He, an innocent man, accepted death. In The Powers that Be, Walter Wink writes, “His arraignment, trial, crucifixion, and death … exposed it for what it was: legalized murder.” Jesus’ death exposed systemic violence, but did not legitimate it. His refusal to return violence with violence shows us his stance. Wink goes on to say that “Only by being driven out by violence could God signal to humanity that the divine is nonviolent and is opposed to the kingdom of violence…To be the true God’s offspring requires the unconditional renunciation of violence.”
Though I hope to claim an “unconditional renunciation of violence,” I have much to learn about its practical application. My commitment to nonviolence has been tested more than once over the last few months. Last September in preparation for a delegation to Iraqi Kurdistan, Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) asked all delegates to write a statement asserting that if we were kidnapped, we did not want ransom paid; if we came to harm, we did not want retaliatory violence carried out. Before I wrote my statement, I thought long and hard about whether I truly believed in the statement I was asked to write. Ultimately, with “I believe. Help my unbelief,” (Mark 9:24) in mind, I wrote the statement. When I went through CPT training in January in preparation to work in Palestine, I wrote another statement committing myself to nonviolence and requesting the same of those who may have to act on my behalf. I want to be committed.
I want to be committed because in my heart of hearts, where I know God lives in me, I believe that all people are made in the image and likeness of God. A belief in the sacredness of others must lead me to a belief in their inherent goodness, even when that goodness is not immediately obvious. A belief in their inherent goodness must lead me to love, not fear, them.
This does not mean I will never experience fear. Certainly I have known fear and, when I work with CPT in Palestine, I will again. The question is whether I will allow fear or love to be my guide.
I choose love. I choose to be armed, not with some metal fabrication that some people call “protection,” but with a belief in human decency, a belief in fostering relationships, a belief that the words “Do not be afraid” (a message offered repeatedly in both the Old and New Testaments) and “Follow me” (Matthew 4:19) were meant not for a select few, but for me … and for you.
I will not live in fear because if I do so, I limit my possibilities for doing good. God gave us free will. If God chose not to limit us, should we allow fear to do so?
Alice Wissing is a graduate of the M.A. in Spirituality program.
Perhaps you are familiar with the saying “That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” This original quote is from Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900). The first time I saw these profound words was on a rugby sticker on my son’s truck. That was several years ago, but I have thought of Nietzsche’s quote many times.
Admittedly, I have a favored Scripture verse, “I can do anything with my God who strengthens me.” Phil 4:13. Both Paul’s words and Nietzsche’s words imply that as individuals we face numerous trials in the course of our life. Whether we place the trial in the category of physical, mental, emotional or spiritual, it is a trial none the less—a test of performance.
The list of tests put to humans on a daily basis would be infinite. Whatever our age, we face challenges; and, out of necessity, manage to get through one day at a time. From where does our strength come to face these challenges? …from “God who strengthens me.”
Last fall my mother passed away. Within a few days, hours blended one into the other. There was no Wednesday, Thursday or Friday. There was no routine, no normalness. By Saturday what I recognized profoundly was God’s mercy. We face trials daily and when we open ourselves to admit our weakness and our frailty, it is God’s strength within us that pulls us through. Our Divine Healer, Comforter, Consoler, mercifully sees our need in time of distress and holds us together. Physical trauma, mental anguish, spiritual void—God’s mercy endures forever.
As days and weeks have typically turned into months, as seasons change, there is only gratefulness for God’s tender compassion and strength. Hearts mend. We learn to cope with daily challenges. With God’s mercy I continue to be grateful because the stronger I become is made possible only through my “God who strengthens me.”
The season of Lent reminds us of our human frailty. We listen to the life of Christ as human and hear the trials Christ lived daily. We imagine ourselves as people who put Christ to the test. We picture ourselves as being a follower of Christ and submit to our weaknesses. As we reach the glory of Easter time we gratefully acknowledge Christ’s ultimate sacrifice. And we profoundly exclaim, “God’s mercy endures forever.”
Roxanna Trivitt is currently a student in the Master of Arts in Spirituality program and is Executive Director of Shively Community Ministries.
The suffocating, humid heat of August filled my car as I left the parking lot at work. I was trying to squeeze in dinner with my husband between my work commitments, our friends were passing through town on their way to visit their children and they were staying the night. As it often happens, I was shy a few ingredients for the meal, so I made a fast trip to the grocery store on the way home from work. I was painfully aware that I my time was running out. As I pulled into my driveway, I noticed the man across the street with no legs, in a wheelchair. He was mowing his lawn with a push mower. My heart filled with compassion as I watched him from my car’s rearview mirror. Repeatedly and rhythmically, he pushed the mower forward as hard as he could and then his wheelchair in the blazing heat. In the next second, I calculated that it would take me more time to help him than I had to spare. So, I hit the gas and drove into my garage. Lord, have mercy.
On the recent MAS trip to Kerala, India, we traveled to study and experience Indian culture and spirituality. As we walked the neighborhoods, we witnessed women and children running from their homes to the street to meet and greet us. I was humbled by the gracious welcome they gave us and how they lost all sense of time. Without a worry, they interrupted their busy schedules, stopped whatever they were doing (i.e., laundry, playing, and building) and gave us a precious gift of their time. I was again reminded of the thin margin often left in my schedule. A margin that grants me maybe enough time to give my neighbors a wave of my hand as I pull my car in and out of the garage. Lord, have mercy.
Most of my days are so chaotic that I feel as though I am on a treadmill running faster than my feet can carry me. Reflecting on this unstable state of mind, I have to ask myself, “When is it OK to say no?” Time management tools work well but often schedules don’t easily fit into a nice, neat time matrix that is the perfect solution to all your time management struggles. It often takes a conversation to decide how to spend a free evening with my family and friends.
Similarly, we need to make our decisions in conversation with our purposeful God. Questions that need to be answered are, To whom does our time belong? Is my time mine to do with what I want? Or does my time – and my life – belong to God? Asking these questions leads us to yielding our lives and our time to the one who gives us time – God.
So, here’s how I’m inviting God to help me manage my time for the New Year: 1) To keep the Sabbath Day as a day of rest 2) To ask important questions before making a commitment – Is this consistent with God’s will for my life? What are my motives? Is it consistent with my passions and gifts? How does this fit with what I already know I am called to do?
The practice of inviting God to manage our time goes against today’s cultural norms. God has gifted me with time. Is it enough to do everything I want to do? No. But it is more than enough to complete the good works God has prepared for me to do. If I choose to yield my time to God and invite Him to lead me into the life He has designed for me, I am certain that He will give me a life that includes helping my disabled neighbor mow his grass. And on other days, sitting on the front porch, greeting my neighbors and making myself available to experience the face of God in community.
Jim Laemmle graduated from the Master of Arts in Spirituality program in 2011, and is currently executive director of South Louisville Community Ministries. You can read about South Louisville Community Ministries’ inaugural fundraiser, Families Helping Families, here.
I spent almost forty years in the world of business, and accomplished a goal many years ago of becoming a Certified Public Accountant. In my accounting career I held many prestigious positions in various companies, and by all standards was considered successful.
During the latter part of my accounting career, I was faced with brain surgery, and it was during this time that I had to face my own mortality. The brain surgery was successful, and within a few years after the surgery, I decided to try retirement. It was during the first few months of my retirement that I felt a real void in my life.
As I reflected back on my brain surgery I realized that something inside of me was urging me to give back, particularly in gratitude for the success of my surgery and the opportunity to have a new lease on life.
I realized that there were many who helped me through some very difficult times. I also realized that having experienced those difficult times that possibly God was giving me some experiences that may be preparing me to help others who were in need, particularly those who were experiencing grief of any kind.
I decided to pursue Chaplaincy and see if that may be a new calling in my life. As part of the process to become a certified Chaplain, I had to go through 2000 hours of training, and also have a Master’s Degree in a related field such as Theology, Spirituality, etc.
Upon hearing that I needed to get a Master’s degree at age 58 and also not having attended school in many years, I tried to think of every reason why I should not pursue the Master of Arts in Spirituality degree. It would be too time consuming, I was too old to go back to school, I would not fit in with younger students, I did not have the time, etc.
Fortunately the call to chaplaincy was very strong within my heart, and I decided to meet with Fr. George Kilcourse to discuss the possibility of enrolling in the MS Program. It was one of the best decisions of my life.
Fr. Kilcourse assured me that I could complete the Program, and additionally, I would ever be transformed by it. How little did I know at the time that he would be correct.
Going through the program transformed me in so many ways. I would like to just mention a few of the significant ways I was transformed;
1) My theology of the Trinity changed, and I have a better concept of the Trinity than I would have ever thought possible.
2) I truly see Christ in everyone that I encounter, and I try to treat them accordingly.
3) I feel humbled and privileged to do the work of Christ with my fellow men and women.
I realized as I went through this Program that I would have done it even if not needed for my Chaplaincy. Now that I have attained my degree I find I miss the Program and those in it very much.
I currently am humbled and privileged to serve as Executive Director of South Louisville Community Ministries, an agency that tries to live the Sermon on the Mount. I owe much of who I am and what I am doing to the Master of Spirituality Program at Bellarmine.
I would strongly encourage anyone who might think they have an interest in this program to check it out, as this Program just might change your life in a manner that you will love!
