Goal & Path Simultaneously

Today is the feast of St. Vincent de Paul (1581-1660). Another post-Reformation era exemplar of holiness, St. Vincent most memorably served the poor.  His Congregation of St Vincent de Paulthe Mission, the Vincentians (or “Lazarists”, named after their founding at the St. Lazarus prior in 1633), and a women’s order he co-founded with St. Louise de Marillac, the Daughters of Charity, sought to serve the poor’s spiritual and physical needs.  Interestingly, together these two orders covered the needs of the French poor in both city and countryside.  They did so based on St. Vincent’s personal example.  Throughout his life, whether he tutored a wealthy family’s children, advised seminary training, or directed spiritual retreats, St. Vincent treated all equally.  Having been sold into slavery for two years during his twenties, St. Vincent’s missionary zeal knew few boundaries.  He addressed the spiritual needs of those whom he encountered, wherever he met them.  One online biographer concludes: “It would be impossible to enumerate all the works of this servant of God. Charity was his predominant virtue. It extended to all classes of persons, from forsaken childhood to old age.” The parish society bearing his name, the St. Vincent de Paul Society, which has accomplished so much for America’s poor (as well as in other nations!), was founded in Paris in 1833 by Blessed Frederic Ozanam.  This group, too, takes its inspiration from St. Vincent’s charity.

Charity should be everybody’s predominant virtue, and not just because St. Vincent de Paul embodied it so well.  The Catechism teaches that charity is “the theological virtue by which we love God above all things for His own sake, and our neighbor as ourselves for the love of God” (#1822).  Christ enjoined us to “love as He does, even our enemies,to make ourselves the neighbor of those farthest away, and to love children and the poor as Christ himself” (#1825).  Clearly St. Vincent de Paul sought this last command throughout his life.  Charity is, the Catechism continues, “the form of the virtues…it is the source and goal of their Christian practice” (#1827).  Elsewhere the Catechism proclaims: “Charity is the greatest social commandment. It respects others and their rights.  It requires the practice of justice, and it alone makes us capable of it.  Charity inspires a life of self-giving” (#1889).  So much for thinking of charity merely as dropping a few coins in the Salvation Army Christmas bucket!  Charity is a virtue before it is an action, but the two are obviously related.

How fitting, therefore, that today concludes Pope Francis’ visit to Cuba and the United States.  In the days leading up to this momentous occasion, more than one media or Pope Francispolitical figure took issue with Pope Francis’ stark call to serve people, and most immediately the poor, not ideologies.  This is what one blogger has aptly called “Pope Francis Derangement Syndrome,” the inability of some—Catholic or not—to accept Francis’ criticism of capitalist economies.  Despite evidence that many of Francis’ remarks follow similar ones made by Pope Benedict XVI, these critics reserve for themselves alone the right to select Pope Francis’ legitimate message.  In other words, they are not charitable, nor, apparently do they much appreciate charity.

Bearing all that in mind, today’s readings might come into better focus.  As Christ reminded the disciples in St. Mark’s gospel, the one who is not against us is for us.  Pope Francis, who took his name after another saint who joyfully served the poor, is surely “for us”…us all, actually.  He extols charity to both poor and rich.  The latter, though, require the charity of being reminded that their material possessions are not, ultimately, their own.  That resonates with St. James’ stark cry against the abuses committed by the wealthy.  The Catechism does insist that charity requires, among other things, fraternal correction (#1829).  So charity might help us hear more clearly the Holy Father’s message.  Meanwhile, charity will also move us to make our love of neighbor and the poor and our enemies all the more real.  Pope Francis merely extols a path which is also our goal. St. Vincent de Paul’s saintly example of charity reminds us of this.

Guest blogger Jeffrey Marlett blogs at Spiritual Diabetes.

September 23, 63 B.C.: Birthday of Octavian, Caesar Augustus

I began my love/hate relationship with the Roman Empire when I declared a Classics major at the age of nineteen, which was…um…decades ago. As anyone whose feet have strolled on a Roman road in France, or watched one hilarious scene in Monty Python’s “Life of Brian” (“What have the Romans ever done for us?”), the reasons to admire the technical achievements of the empire are many, from ports to aqueducts, from roads to the famous fish sauce garum, which became a sign of fashionable Romanitas on tables throughout the empire. The accomplishments of Augustus are real and impressive. While the quotation found in Suetonius, “I found Rome a city of bricks and left it a city of marble,” may be apocryphal, it rather accurately depicts the changes in Rome under Augustus’ leadership. His accomplishments were not all military; as he says in his Res Gestae, a copy of which anyone can read inscribed on the side of the Richard Meier building housing the Ara Pacis in Rome, “I rebuilt eight-two temples of the gods in the city by the authority of the senate” and “when the taxes fell short, I gave out contributions of grain and money from my granary and patrimony, sometimes to 100,000 men, sometimes to many more.” With every empire, how the benefits are provided is always the problem. Augustus the highest benefactor was called Son of God, Lord, Savior of the World, and Redeemer, and everyone knew this because they saw these titles symbolized in the great building projects and literally expressed on inscriptions, coins, statues, altars, cups, and so on. He had at his service a fleet of “Mad Men” who knew how to get the message across.
Everyone knew it, but not everyone believed it. Many Jews in particular knew that the covenant of justice, mercy and love with the God of Israel could not be reconciled with the imperial covenant. Many Jews, for example, saw that there was a choice to be made regarding to which covenant we belong. The Roman covenant promised peace (at the price of submission) from the top down and in large part through violence, intimidation, bribery and a kind of “soft power” that tried to lure people into believing that Romanitas was the most desirable of identities. Those Jews who believed that Jesus of Nazareth should be called Son of God, Lord, Savior of the World, and Redeemer actively, and peacefully, denied that Augustus and emperors after him played those roles and thereby enacted a kind of treason. This near-constant critique of and contempt for empire is often missed by readers of the New Testament. Although that collection of books is shot through with this non-violent opposition, perhaps it is most easily recognized in the book of Revelation. John of Patmos employed both biblical and imperial symbolism to broadcast that the oh-so-attractive luxury items catalogued in Revelation 18:12-13 carry too high a price: that of human lives (18:13).

Our own list of luxury goods is long; we might substitute clothes, coffee and — personal gasp — chocolate, for myrrh, incense, and frankincense in that list. The cost, however, to our planet, to our shared humanity, and thus to our souls, is too high. Since absolute personal refusal to participate in the global economic system is nearly impossible at this point in our increasingly small world (as well as being of questionable consequence in such a vast system), the witness of our tradition holds our feet to the fire to work for the justice proclaimed by those who spoke in our Scriptures for the God of Israel and to pray for ourselves, the powerful of human history, as Pope Francis has in Laudato Sí:

Enlighten those who possess power and money

that they may avoid the sin of indifference,

that they may love the common good, advance the weak, 

and care for this world in which we live.
The poor and the earth are crying out.
 Pamela Hedrick teaches Sacred Scripture and spirituality for Saint Joseph’s College.