Today we celebrate the Feast of Saint Clare of Assisi

Memorial

• Of noble birth and reputed beauty, Clare heard Francis of Assisi preach a Lenten retreat in 1212. Captivated by this new witness of a life “after the manner of the holy Gospel,” Clare stole away from her home on the night of Palm Sunday to join Francis. For the next forty years she lived in a convent attached to the Church of San Damiano, leading the young women who joined her, the first Poor Clares. When Pope Innocent IV composed a rule for her nuns that permitted them to receive an annual living, Clare responded with her own stricter version, the first women’s rule written by a woman. She died in 1253 with the approved rule in her hand.

She was a woman of great courage and strong conviction. She remains an inspiration for all who seek to live a holy life “after the manner of the holy Gospel”.

Santa Chiara, pray for us. 

Hearing is something we take for granted, especially when we’re young. 

Clearly, the most powerful form of communication is the human voice. Listening to another person—really listening and understanding—requires more than hearing alone. The words being spoken are reinforced by gestures, body language, what the speaker’s eyes and face convey. But communication that does not include an auditory dimension—hearing what someone else is saying—is one dimensional. It does not convey the full sense of the speaker’s intended communication. 

Think of email. It’s quick and easily accessible, but it cannot communicate fully. All forms of social media—including this blog—suffer from this lack of depth or richness. If you and I were talking, or if I were teaching a class, my words on this subject would have much greater impact and resonance. Certainly when you read these words you get my meaning. But you can’t possibly hear me or understand me quite as completely as you would if we were engaged in a conversation. 

Let’s not lose the gift of personal communication as we play with all the gadgets of our technological age. Let’s not give up the kind of face-to-face dialogue that is so important and enriching. Let’s listen and talk to one another as often and as attentively as we can. 

As Scripture says, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear” (Mt 11:15).

Remembering Archbishop Thomas Cajetan Kelly, O.P. 

Today is the Feast of St. Cajetan, and my thoughts turn immediately to my deceased friend and mentor Archbishop Thomas C. Kelly who took the name Cajetan when he entered the Dominican Order.

Until recently, I might have said that +TCK served as a bishop during the worst possible time—the years leading up to, and culminating in, the clergy sex abuse scandal. But now I’m relieved that he is not here with us to witness the horrors that have been revealed by the unmasking of the former cardinal, Theodore E. McCarrick, and similar abuses committed by cardinals, archbishops and bishops in various regions of the world.

Anyone who was hoping that the clergy sex abuse scandal had run its course is now sadly (and rudely) disabused of that naive hope.

What would +TCK think of all this?

I know he would be deeply distressed and sadder than words can express. I believe he would be angry that the actions of a handful of sexual predators have so tarnished the image of bishops, priests and other Church leaders that trust is extremely difficult to restore. I suspect he would be frustrated by the  corrupt processes that allowed men who never should have been given leadership roles in the Church to rise to such prominence.

And yet, he would not have lost hope. He was a sensitive, caring man who was easily hurt but who never gave up. He believed in the redemptive power of God’s grace and in the Lord’s definitive victory over sin and death. Even when evil appeared to have the upper hand, +TCK was convinced that Christ would be (and is) triumphant.

+TCK would remind us that bishops are sinful men called to be holy and lead others to sanctity—in spite of their imperfections.

+Thomas Cajetan Kelly, O.P. was such a man. In site of his imperfections, his sins, he grew in holiness and inspired others to do the same. By the grace of God, he is now at peace. I am quite sure that from his place in heaven he intercedes for all bishops—that they may be men of courage and of hope who can inspire confidence and trust in God’s faithful people.

Silence and speech belong together. The one presupposes the other. 

Our modern culture is suffused with noise. Non-stop chatter (the stuff of Cable TV), incessant music, advertising and talk, talk, talk surround us. No room for silence. No space for reflection. No opportunities for clear, quiet thinking let alone thoughtful conversation among colleagues or friends.

The truth is that genuine speech requires periods of reflective silence. I cannot really say what is in my heart—or on my mind—if I have no time to gather my thoughts and emotions, to make sense of my innermost hopes and my most penetrating fears.

Silence can be liberating—freeing me from the tyranny of ideas, values and habits imposed on me by the external world. In silence, I can sort things out. I can discover what is true. I can decide what is real.

Following an appropriate period of silence, I can speak wisely, thoughtfully, with loving care. I can turn down the noise and separate myself from the blabbering crowd.

Help me, Lord, to be silent sometimes. To listen to the soft, still whisper of your voice.

How I long for the stillness of your Word and the fullness of your holy silence!