EXCERPT:
Bob Lindsay’s death brought an abrupt end to a long, sometimes removed, always intimate friendship.
Born in Dorchester, Bob left the year I was born to join the Society of Jesus. In more than 50 years as a Jesuit, he served in more than two dozen locations, but I first knew him my freshman year at Holy Cross. He was head chaplain, and while students lampooned him as “the toy priest” for his small stature, his liturgical presence alone made him a dominant figure on campus.
Those were the days of post-Vatican II euphoria, when Sunday Masses were jammed and even weeknight Mass (11:00 PM in the lower chapel) regularly drew 100 students. In a day when the buzzword among Catholic collegians was “relevance,” Bob’s earthy but eloquent preaching never failed to hit a timely note. And his presiding gave the Mass a dignified but intimate grandeur that drew us back again and again - -and also drew us together.
…
Bob’s charisma was not limited to preaching and presiding. He was a spiritual director by trade, and guided the personal paths of who knows how many people over the years in many roles as retreat director, sabbatical director, director of the Center for Religious Development in Cambridge, staff of the Jesuit Urban Center in Boston--and a dozen other places. His longest tenure was his last, at the Jesuit residence in Weston (Mass.) where he became a counselor and friend to fellow Jesuits and staff alike.
But he could also be the life of the party, especially when playing and singing his beloved Cole Porter. His last years he turned also to painting and his vibrant impressionist colors typified the bursting-with-life tenor of his presence to others.
…
Few people who ever met him, heard him preach, worshipped with him or received counsel from him could escape his influence unchanged. He was one of those people Reader’s Digest used to call “most unforgettable characters.” ...
Three dramatically different lives, yet all three men are revered as they pass away. Why? What did they have in common? Three things, I think.
First, they were gifted people (but aren’t we all?). Second, each tapped into those gifts with a persevering dedication, and used their years on earth fully. Third, that dedication always aimed at the good of others--all three were among that band of what the Jesuits call “men and women for others.”
Such men show us what a good life means--and their reverence for such life made them revered by all the others they lived for.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Reverence for Life—Part 2
EXCERPT:
Fran Grady’s life was less public, but its impact was more personal. After seminary training he graduated Saint Mary’s College (Maryland) and became a VISTA volunteer in Baltimore, where he met Ann, his wife of 43 years. After moving to Boston he studied social work at Boston College and began devoting himself to neighborhood renewal in a city reeling from racial tensions, troubled schools, and a struggling economy.
That devotion, driven by what Ann called “his generosity of spirit, his keen interest in the world around him, and his positive thinking,” kept him active in a wide range of community initiatives even as he battled esophageal cancer.
…
Fran epitomized the kind of community activist who provides backbone to a neighborhood, making it resolute and resilient enough to counter adversity and carry on. His family loved him, but his reach was far wider than them. He was not afraid to stretch himself for a good cause (soccer, after all, was not his game), and his irrepressible enthusiasm enabled him to accumulate connections across a wide swath of Dorchester and Boston itself.
When he was waked at Saint Mary of the Angels, two things struck me. First, it was the right place for his wake, since his devotion to the community had always been faith-based; the church was his spiritual home. And second, the mourners who loved him reflected a range and diversity of American life that would be the envy of any true activist. He was revered because his life was the very model of a life devoted to “making a difference.”
Fran Grady’s life was less public, but its impact was more personal. After seminary training he graduated Saint Mary’s College (Maryland) and became a VISTA volunteer in Baltimore, where he met Ann, his wife of 43 years. After moving to Boston he studied social work at Boston College and began devoting himself to neighborhood renewal in a city reeling from racial tensions, troubled schools, and a struggling economy.
That devotion, driven by what Ann called “his generosity of spirit, his keen interest in the world around him, and his positive thinking,” kept him active in a wide range of community initiatives even as he battled esophageal cancer.
…
Fran epitomized the kind of community activist who provides backbone to a neighborhood, making it resolute and resilient enough to counter adversity and carry on. His family loved him, but his reach was far wider than them. He was not afraid to stretch himself for a good cause (soccer, after all, was not his game), and his irrepressible enthusiasm enabled him to accumulate connections across a wide swath of Dorchester and Boston itself.
When he was waked at Saint Mary of the Angels, two things struck me. First, it was the right place for his wake, since his devotion to the community had always been faith-based; the church was his spiritual home. And second, the mourners who loved him reflected a range and diversity of American life that would be the envy of any true activist. He was revered because his life was the very model of a life devoted to “making a difference.”
Saturday, October 29, 2011
#342: Reverence for Life—Part 1
EXCERPT:
Three recent deaths have confirmed my conviction that death has a way of illuminating life. In each instance I had the vivid realization “this man was revered”--yet these three led remarkably dissimilar lives. I naturally wondered, what makes someone revered by others?
Steve Jobs’ passing came first, and I admit the public outpouring caught me by surprise. I had never followed his story closely, so I knew only the most basic facts. He cofounded Apple; he left Apple in the 1980s, only to return when it was near bankruptcy. Soon a rapid series of innovations (from iPods to iPhones to iPads) transformed Apple from a struggling computer builder into the world’s dominant manufacturer of personal digital devices….
… Apple’s elegant software “architecture” made it the darling of early adopters and aficionados of technological beauty.
And that’s what Steve Jobs brought to his work: a passion for beauty, even in computer technology. This meant better looking cabinets, more elegant programming, more powerful performance, and above all machines designed for ease of use. His machines were still machines, but they were more humane than other machines, and they rewarded humans in intangible ways. They did more than get the work done--they gave pleasure to the worker. Some called it “Zen computing.”
On September 16, MIT’s Kendall Square unveiled its “Entrepreneur Walk of Fame,” whose tiles at first honored but three stars: Thomas Edison, Bill Gates, and Steve Jobs. After his death, his stone was adorned with flowers, images, an apple--all surrounding the inscription taken from his own words:
Becoming the richest man in the cemetery doesn’t matter to me…Going to bed at night saying we’ve done something wonderful…that’s what matters to me.
Needless to say, Jobs’ commitment to technology’s potential to be both beautiful and humane was a wonderful enrichment to the millions whose lives he touched, and who revered him at his passing.
Three recent deaths have confirmed my conviction that death has a way of illuminating life. In each instance I had the vivid realization “this man was revered”--yet these three led remarkably dissimilar lives. I naturally wondered, what makes someone revered by others?
Steve Jobs’ passing came first, and I admit the public outpouring caught me by surprise. I had never followed his story closely, so I knew only the most basic facts. He cofounded Apple; he left Apple in the 1980s, only to return when it was near bankruptcy. Soon a rapid series of innovations (from iPods to iPhones to iPads) transformed Apple from a struggling computer builder into the world’s dominant manufacturer of personal digital devices….
… Apple’s elegant software “architecture” made it the darling of early adopters and aficionados of technological beauty.
And that’s what Steve Jobs brought to his work: a passion for beauty, even in computer technology. This meant better looking cabinets, more elegant programming, more powerful performance, and above all machines designed for ease of use. His machines were still machines, but they were more humane than other machines, and they rewarded humans in intangible ways. They did more than get the work done--they gave pleasure to the worker. Some called it “Zen computing.”
On September 16, MIT’s Kendall Square unveiled its “Entrepreneur Walk of Fame,” whose tiles at first honored but three stars: Thomas Edison, Bill Gates, and Steve Jobs. After his death, his stone was adorned with flowers, images, an apple--all surrounding the inscription taken from his own words:
Becoming the richest man in the cemetery doesn’t matter to me…Going to bed at night saying we’ve done something wonderful…that’s what matters to me.
Needless to say, Jobs’ commitment to technology’s potential to be both beautiful and humane was a wonderful enrichment to the millions whose lives he touched, and who revered him at his passing.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
#341- part II: Warfare—or Justice?
EXCERPT:
For the last 40 years, the U.S. gap between rich and poor has steadily grown, because real wages for most have failed to match inflation, while the wealthiest Americans have enjoyed soaring dividends, salaries, and bonuses. The U.S. bishops, a dozen years into this trend, were already expressing concern:
Our economy is marked by a very uneven distribution of wealth and income. … In 1983, 54% of the total net financial assets were held by 2% of all families. (US Bishops Economic Justice For All [EJA] #183)
By 2010, the situation was even worse, as the gap just kept growing, according to a UC Berkeley analysis:
“In the economic expansion of 2002-2007, the top 1% captured two thirds of income growth.”As others have pointed out, the average wage of Americans, adjusting for inflation, is lower than it was in the 1970s. The minimum wage, adjusting for inflation, is lower than it was in the 1950s. http://integralcatholicsocialteachings.blogspot.com/2009/08/income-inequality-worst-since-1917.html
Is anyone who criticizes this trend engaging in “class warfare”?
I suppose that is mainly a question of our definitions, but let’s suppose we accept “class warfare” as the label for a debate about income distribution, income inequality, and income redistribution? In that case, two things stand out.
One, there are fighters on both sides: those defending the poor, and those defending the wealthy.
Second, there seem to be two sets of rules. Those on the “poor” side are attacking the behavior and special treatment the wealthy get (Warren Buffett called it “coddling”) to urge a change in the status quo. But the “wealthy” side, by contrast, has been attacking the character of the poor as a way of blocking any change.
Thus one TV commentator described this as a war of the “productive classes” attacked by the “moocher classes.” John Stossel likewise called a conflict between the “makers” and the “takers.” Another commentator referred to welfare recipients as “parasites.” Nebraska Atty. General John Bruning compared “stupid welfare recipients” to scavenging “raccoons.” And Ann Coulter argued that the U.S. welfare system has created “generations of utterly irresponsible animals.”
Even warfare has rules, but so far only one side is playing fair.
So given the facts about U.S. wealth and the way people are fighting over it, what are Catholic voters to think?
The answer is surprisingly straightforward. In a word: Catholic Social Doctrine has consistently opposed wide income gaps between rich and poor, and has consistently approved actions to redistribute wealth. Leo XIII first set this position in 1891, and he was seconded in 1931 by Pius XI:
Each class, then, must receive its due share, and the distribution of created goods must be brought into conformity with the demands of the common good and social justice. For every sincere observer realizes that the vast difference between the few who hold excessive wealth and the many who live in destitution constitute a grave evil in modern society-- (Quadragesimo Anno #58).
Vatican Council II (1962-1965) repeated the same basic position:
Excessive economic and social inequalities within the one human family, between individuals or between peoples, give rise to scandal, and are contrary to social justice, to equity, and to the dignity of the human person, as well as to peace within society and at the international level--(Gaudiam Et Spes #29).
And this leads to a clear Catholic mandate to support changes, and even government policies, that redistribute wealth:
Authentic economic well-being is pursued also by means of suitable social policies for the redistribution of income which, taking general conditions into account, look at merit as well as at the need of each citizen.--(The Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Catholic Church #303)
Does this mean the Catholic Church has been waging “class warfare” since 1891? I think not. Instead, I agree with the U.S. Bishops in saying:
The "option for the poor," therefore, is not an adversarial slogan that pits one group or class against another. Rather it states that the deprivation and powerlessness of the poor wounds the whole community. The extent of their suffering is a measure of how far we are from being a true community of persons. (EJA #88)
From the Catholic viewpoint, this is not class warfare; this is a fight for justice. And, as Pope Benedict XVI proclaimed in his very first encyclical, God Is Love: “The Church…cannot and must not remain on the sidelines in the fight for justice.”
So each of us must ask ourselves, and even each other, the next question: if the fight for justice is underway, which side are you on?
For the last 40 years, the U.S. gap between rich and poor has steadily grown, because real wages for most have failed to match inflation, while the wealthiest Americans have enjoyed soaring dividends, salaries, and bonuses. The U.S. bishops, a dozen years into this trend, were already expressing concern:
Our economy is marked by a very uneven distribution of wealth and income. … In 1983, 54% of the total net financial assets were held by 2% of all families. (US Bishops Economic Justice For All [EJA] #183)
By 2010, the situation was even worse, as the gap just kept growing, according to a UC Berkeley analysis:
“In the economic expansion of 2002-2007, the top 1% captured two thirds of income growth.”As others have pointed out, the average wage of Americans, adjusting for inflation, is lower than it was in the 1970s. The minimum wage, adjusting for inflation, is lower than it was in the 1950s. http://integralcatholicsocialteachings.blogspot.com/2009/08/income-inequality-worst-since-1917.html
Is anyone who criticizes this trend engaging in “class warfare”?
I suppose that is mainly a question of our definitions, but let’s suppose we accept “class warfare” as the label for a debate about income distribution, income inequality, and income redistribution? In that case, two things stand out.
One, there are fighters on both sides: those defending the poor, and those defending the wealthy.
Second, there seem to be two sets of rules. Those on the “poor” side are attacking the behavior and special treatment the wealthy get (Warren Buffett called it “coddling”) to urge a change in the status quo. But the “wealthy” side, by contrast, has been attacking the character of the poor as a way of blocking any change.
Thus one TV commentator described this as a war of the “productive classes” attacked by the “moocher classes.” John Stossel likewise called a conflict between the “makers” and the “takers.” Another commentator referred to welfare recipients as “parasites.” Nebraska Atty. General John Bruning compared “stupid welfare recipients” to scavenging “raccoons.” And Ann Coulter argued that the U.S. welfare system has created “generations of utterly irresponsible animals.”
Even warfare has rules, but so far only one side is playing fair.
So given the facts about U.S. wealth and the way people are fighting over it, what are Catholic voters to think?
The answer is surprisingly straightforward. In a word: Catholic Social Doctrine has consistently opposed wide income gaps between rich and poor, and has consistently approved actions to redistribute wealth. Leo XIII first set this position in 1891, and he was seconded in 1931 by Pius XI:
Each class, then, must receive its due share, and the distribution of created goods must be brought into conformity with the demands of the common good and social justice. For every sincere observer realizes that the vast difference between the few who hold excessive wealth and the many who live in destitution constitute a grave evil in modern society-- (Quadragesimo Anno #58).
Vatican Council II (1962-1965) repeated the same basic position:
Excessive economic and social inequalities within the one human family, between individuals or between peoples, give rise to scandal, and are contrary to social justice, to equity, and to the dignity of the human person, as well as to peace within society and at the international level--(Gaudiam Et Spes #29).
And this leads to a clear Catholic mandate to support changes, and even government policies, that redistribute wealth:
Authentic economic well-being is pursued also by means of suitable social policies for the redistribution of income which, taking general conditions into account, look at merit as well as at the need of each citizen.--(The Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Catholic Church #303)
Does this mean the Catholic Church has been waging “class warfare” since 1891? I think not. Instead, I agree with the U.S. Bishops in saying:
The "option for the poor," therefore, is not an adversarial slogan that pits one group or class against another. Rather it states that the deprivation and powerlessness of the poor wounds the whole community. The extent of their suffering is a measure of how far we are from being a true community of persons. (EJA #88)
From the Catholic viewpoint, this is not class warfare; this is a fight for justice. And, as Pope Benedict XVI proclaimed in his very first encyclical, God Is Love: “The Church…cannot and must not remain on the sidelines in the fight for justice.”
So each of us must ask ourselves, and even each other, the next question: if the fight for justice is underway, which side are you on?
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