When I first met Bishop Vigneron to talk about the possibility of being professed as a diocesan hermit, he asked me who my favorite Saint was, partly as a way of breaking the ice, and partly as a way of introducing serious dimensions and getting to know me. I found myself saying, "St Paul!" -- and then, in my mind second guessing myself with thoughts like, "No, he's an Apostle, you should have said someone like John of the Cross or Teresa of Avila" and then I went on out loud to explain my choice: " I love Saint Paul's theology and especially his theology of the cross; if I could spend the rest of my life coming to understand his theology of the cross I would be a happy camper!" (And the critical part in the back of my mind was saying, Laurel!! You're speaking to a bishop. . . a happy camper? What kind of language is that??!!). 
You see, the past weeks have been difficult ones for our parish and those weeks were capped (for the time being) by difficulties in chapel the week before last. On Wed - Friday things came to a boil with events in our small chapel community. So, all of this was on my mind when I met with my director Friday afternoon to continue our work, to inform her of how things were going in the parish community, and also to tell her how inadequate I was feeling through all of this. I had been thinking about the first reading from that morning, the Ezekiel reading about the valley of dry bones and I found I could not it out of my mind. As I think I wrote in an earlier post, I could hear the splintering of bones as Ezekiel walked. I could not get past the question in the first portion of the lection: Can these bones live? As the reading shifted to the promise of life coming from the Word of God and the Holy Spirit and the need for Ezekiel to prophecy, I found I could not turn the corner with Ezekiel, so to speak. I could not even read the second half of the lection; I certainly couldn't believe it!
I was visiting Father John B in the hospital. The Archdiocese had begun, belatedly, implementing Vatican II and Father Brennan was devastated by the changes that were coming our way. We had been talking about the things we each found hard to understand in our lives --- I, a surprising Dx of epilepsy and the need to leave the Franciscans as a result, and Fr B, his own illness and even more Vatican II and its apparent ramifications for liturgy, priesthood, the laity, devotions and so much more. We were on opposite sides of the spectrum in this matter, but that was beside the point. He had catechized me and watched out for me after I was baptized. Our conversation was deep and serious. At one point Fr B held out his hands in a kind of "what are we to do gesture" and, with his eyes brimming with tears and just a bit of a self-deprecating laugh, said, [[Laurel, I don't understand ANY of this!!]] -- gesturing not just to his hospital room but to everything in the church, his pastorate, etc. Never before had I seen the depth and extent of the pain he carried for those he served!! And, as I recounted this story to Marietta, I realized I had probably never seen a more perfect image of faithfulness, of "crucifixion" for the sake of those he loved, and of the meaning of God's power being perfected in weakness.
What I saw two Fridays ago in that memory was how John Brennan had continued to lead the parish in spite of the pain he held. He was grieving incredible loss, and struggling to continue his pastorate despite everything and he kept on keeping on. I am sure he knew precisely what I was saying to Marietta because he had felt it all himself and said so that day in the hospital. And so, from the other side of death, he, in the power of the Risen Christ, nudged my memory and gave me a wonderful picture of the foolishness of God's wisdom and the wisdom of God's foolishness. I realized that perhaps, from childhood onward, my life had helped suit me for a role as a particular kind of leader in the parish --- one who knew the call to hold the pain of this time of transition and continue to proclaim the good news of a God whose grace is sufficient for us. (2 Cor 12:9) I don't mean "hold the pain" in some kind of crude victim-soul-or-pseudo-masochistic way. I mean "hold the pain" without being destroyed by it or having one's theology distorted or one's faith crushed by it. Indeed, I mean holding the pain in a way which allows the grace of God to bring us to deeper faith. Specifically, I mean holding the pain in the way Jesus, at the very peak of human weakness and helplessness, held the anguish of our broken existence within himself in his embrace on the cross as he remained open to his Father's vindication and victory over sin and even over godless death. In this way Jesus carried our anguish and alienation into the very heart of God making it part of God's own life and transfiguring it forever. Foolishness? Wisdom!! Compassion!!!
A leadership with roots in the compassion of God is the kind of leadership we need today in the whole church, the kind of leadership that allows us to truly walk together in the way synodality demands. And while it does not mean I (or any of us) need to relinquish theological acumen or scholarship (or any of the gifts our communities have come to depend upon), for instance, nor to simply submit to moves by clergy rooted in a failure to listen to the whole community, it requires faith in the Word of God in which we are called to steep ourselves and a profound trust that even a valley of dry bones can echo with the sound of new life as a community is reknitted in the power of the compassion of the Crucified One. Leaders in this time of church reform and resistance to reform must struggle with the query God put to Ezekiel, "Can these bones live?" and in struggling come to a deeper faith in the power that is truly perfected in weakness, a faith that answers, [[Yes, even if I cannot see how or when!!]]
More seriously though, as I thought about this memory while outlining a reflection on the first reading for Friday -- Paul's comment in 1 Cor on the foolishness and wisdom of the cross --- something I also have selected in the motto on my profession ring: "God's power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor 12:9) -- I was also reminded of the truism, "Best watch out what you wish for!!" After all, it is one thing to aim for intellectual understanding of Paul's theology, another thing entirely to ask to understand the cross completely from the inside out!! And this message re the foolishness of the cross was what both I and the folks in my parish really needed to hear afresh.
And so, at the end of our session I found myself saying, [[Marietta, I don't feel particularly faithful; I don't feel all that prayerful, or spiritual, or knowledgeable; I am not even sure I feel all that adult! I know I don't feel like I am suited to being any kind of leader in this faith community!]] At that moment I had a vivid memory of a time with my original pastor, Rev John L Brennan. It pulled everything together for me and was a complete gift of God (and, I had the sense at that moment, of John Brennan himself); it became the heart of the reflection I gave last Friday.
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| An Image of Compassion |
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