A curious pattern of exile is evident in the endings of several Old Testament books. After God promises Abram the land of Canaan, the patriarch must immediately flee to Egypt because of a famine (Genesis 12); his descendants, the sons of Jacob, repeat the expedition for the same reason (Genesis 42-47).
I want you to know how much I believe in and love Lent, and I want you to know how much I wish that no one would say “I don’t believe in Lent.”
One of the shibboleths of our times is the word diversity. Our use of the word can easily signal our social, political and philosophical sympathies. It is ubiquitous in our culture, advertising and corporate life, and it is frequently portrayed as a moral value, one of the few claimed by our ostensibly secular society.
St. Benedict concludes the Prologue of his Rule for monks with an uplifting exhortation: “Do not be daunted immediately by fear and run away from the road that leads to salvation. It is bound to be narrow at the outset. But as we progress in this way of life and in faith, we shall run on the path of God’s commandments, our hearts expanding with the inexpressible delight of love.” For Benedict, the monastic life is a school in which the monks, who graduate only at death, never cease learning how to love the Lord. The relentless rigors of work and prayer stretch the heart, pushing it outward and generating an ever-greater capacity to love and be loved.
There is an adage in one of the Nigerian languages (Hausa) that says “Zumunci a kafa ta ke,” translated directly as “fellowship (or relationship) is on the foot.” This means that true fellowship is shown through physical presence. This adage reminds us of the need for demonstrating fellowship or relationship through physical visitation, which is even more important in today’s world, where physical presence is often replaced by media technology. In our busy world there is a tendency to neglect the need for physical visitation with family members and friends. Of course, COVID-19 is a setback to our physical presence at this time, but even without COVID our world and all its demands have, at least to some degree, forced many people into a life of individualism and separatism. Many of us explain why we are unable to be with family and friends with the simple excuse that we are too busy.
Born in 1933, Father Roch Kereszty, O. Cist., has already outlived more than one tree planted in his honor — partly an effect of the Texas soil, into which he himself was transplanted from his native Hungary in the early 1960s.
Catholic Schools Week (Jan. 30 to Feb. 5 this year) is a time to reflect on the gift of Catholic education and to support the many men and women who work so hard to offer that education to children throughout the world.
