The journey of faith

Hundreds of thousands of young people are returning home from World Youth Day held in Portugal.

Pope Francis had invited them to come with the same spirit that Mary had when she left the concerns of her own situation and “arose and went with haste” (Lk 1:39) to visit her cousin Elizabeth. He invited them to “set out in haste toward concrete encounters, toward genuine acceptance of those different from ourselves.”

The story of the Visitation describes faith as an encounter with Christ between us and among us. When we are willing to leave behind our concerns, our fears and judgments, we can be open to something new and joyful that “magnifies the Lord.” We can bridge the distance that exists between generations, between classes and races, between the old and the new. World Youth Day concluded on the feast of the Transfiguration — a day which marks another

The Catholic Spirit’s presence at, and coverage of, the Tekakwitha Conference July 19-23 were outstanding. My own attendance, motivated simply by a desire to learn about American Indian Catholics, immersed me in the historical and present-day injustices suffered by my fellow Catholics who are American Indian and my own complicity in them by my ignorance, forgetting and inaction.

The injustices included territorial dispossession by national legislation, military battles, and unfulfilled treaties. Then, American Indian Boarding Schools to separate Native American children from their families and assimilate them by suppressing their language, appearance, and religious and cultural practices. Researchers have not yet gotten the full facts of these boarding schools and speakers suggested that some reluctance to provide records on the part of religious bodies has been an obstacle. We do know that over 500 children died and were buried on the grounds of the boarding schools. Of the more than 400 U.S. boarding schools, 87 were run by the Catholic Church.

As Catholics, we face a huge challenge, very clearly pointed out by Maria Yellow Horse Brave Heart,

All was well with the world. After 51 weeks of longing — of remembering and dreaming and waiting — this was the week when the girls’ dreams and reality aligned.

The Caldecott-winning illustrator Susan Jeffers turned that longing into art with her 2003 book “My Pony.” It chronicles a girl’s wish for a horse, which her parents cannot afford or lodge. Instead, she draws pictures of a dappled mare named Silver, then fantasizes about riding it through the woods in the moonlight.

“My earliest memories are about wanting a horse,” Jeffers writes in the author’s note at the end of the book. “But what to do with all that longing?” Her answer is unflinching. “I think if I had gotten my wish for a horse, I may not have found my love for drawing,” she writes. “My pencil and paints became the vehicle to my life of fantasy horses. My pencil seemed fueled by the desire to be with those exquisite animals.”

The absence of horses made space for the art that became a fulfilling career. The horses would come. As an adult, Jeffers rode horses daily — just as surely as she drew daily.

I’ve been thinking about deferred dreams. The end of summer calls them to mind, that bittersweet time when a new school year encroaches on the vast freedom of summer. Did we do all the things we wanted? Did we make all the memories? August brings a reckoning, revealing the gaps between our hopes and realities.

I believe God places dreams on our hearts with purpose. They are not wrong or selfish. They come from encounter of disciples following Jesus up the mountain to get a glimpse of his glory. There are many roads that one can take on the journey of faith. Whether it be on a retreat or pilgrimage, in nature or quiet prayer, in a time of pain or loss, or in the ordinary and daily moments, the road leads us to encounter Christ in ways that are personal, intimate, transforming and loving. Like the visitation of Mary, the encounter with Christ between us can change our view of the world, home and a path forward. professor of psychiatry at the University of New Mexico. In the name of our Savior, who taught us to love one another as he loved us, we must begin the task of healing. Brave Heart outlined the framework for this healing: 1) confront the trauma, 2) understand the trauma, 3) release the trauma, and 4) transcend the trauma. This is ours as Catholics because our Church was, and still is, part of the harm. We must be part of the healing.

In my ministry, I have the privilege of meeting missionaries returning home from their service abroad after several years. They tell stories of encounters with people in distant places that opened their eyes to seeing their relationship with the world, with God, and with their vocation in the Church in new and unforeseen ways. Once, I met a man at a gathering of returned missioners. The man had been in Nepal with the Jesuit Volunteer Corps. He told the group how mission had “ruined me for life.” At that point all of the other returned missioners nodded their heads in agreement. I felt like they knew something that I did not know yet. When I asked the meaning of this motto, he told me how encountering others in mission changes one’s view of everything and opens one to God in ways unknown before.

Even this will not complete the healing. Still to be faced are the trafficking of American Indian children and the great number of missing and murdered American Indian women. We must find ways to see Christ suffering in our American Indian fellow Catholics.

Richard Podvin St. Odilia, Roseville

What a delightful testimonial in the “Why I am Catholic” (Carol Rusinko), July 13 edition. Something in it caught my eye that is critical to our personal growth as functional Catholics: “I realized as an adult that I had to fully learn my faith when my oldest daughter asked the Creator, and their intensity emboldens us, just as they propelled the great artists, explorers and saints.

But some dreams are not meant to be realized today or this year or ever, even — at least not in the way we envision. We cannot know the reasons, but we can trust that God will do something special with the unfulfilled spots in our hearts. Something new.

Maybe we’re not ready yet. Perhaps God is quietly preparing us — equipping us through unwelcome trials, leading us to other loves first, introducing us to helpers, teaching us through the waiting. Father Ron Rolheiser gave a name to the stirrings of the heart: “the holy longing.” They are a sign of a fruitful spiritual life, placing us on the path intended by God. A beginning.

“Long before we do anything explicitly religious at all, we have to do something about the fire that burns within us,” Father Rolheiser writes in his bestselling book “The Holy Longing.”

“What we do with that fire, how we channel it,” he added, “is our spirituality.”

The holy longings are leading us somewhere. And the dreams we cannot realize today may be sweeter later.

“There is a time for everything,” Scripture promises.

As summer gives way to fall, the lush greens fading into ambers and rusts, may we too find peace in the waiting, being patient with the parts that are unresolved, trusting that something beautiful is at work.

Capecchi is a freelance writer from Inver Grove Heights.

Last month, our most recent delegation to our sister Diocese of Kitui, Kenya, returned from a two-week visit. Many delegates recounted experiences of amazing hospitality in villages and joyful celebrations of Mass that they had never seen before. The welcome and joy they received from people who live with so little made them wonder who is truly rich and who is poor. The encounter opened them to the presence of God in new ways. It has made some question and think more deeply about their own priorities, values and God’s calling in their lives. (See page 13.)

Pope Francis has called the whole Church to foster a culture of encounter, to be ready to set out in haste to meet Christ between us in each moment. To move beyond the borders that keep us apart and build bridges of faith that can change and heal us. The missionary spirit is the same spirit that prompted Mary to arise and set out in haste. May we be open to leaving ourselves behind enough to be open to encounter Christ — and to be ready to be ruined for life — with the life of Christ alive between us and among us.

Deacon Friesen is director of the Center for Mission, which supports missionary outreach of the Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis. He can be reached at friesenm@archspm org me a question … I knew the answer but couldn’t fully explain it to her.”

Our Catholic faith (philosophy of life) is like any study. Engineers don’t work with eighth grade science. Journalism professors don’t teach with eighth grade information. As we progress through life, we grow mentally. That increased capability demands more study to satisfy the attendant curiosity and results in a deeper understanding of the subject matter.

Where are our adult education materials? There should, at the very least, be a copy of the “United States Catholic Catechism for Adults” (USCCB) in every Catholic home. As we progress through our evangelization efforts, let us remember an old salesman’s adage: It’s easier to retain present customers than to recruit new ones.

Art Thell St. Joseph, West St. Paul

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