What is Vincentian Pragmatism?

One of the core tenets of our current Designing DePaul framework is Institutional Effectiveness and Vincentian Pragmatism. As evidenced by the questions we have received in the Mission and Ministry office over the past several months, the concept of Vincentian pragmatism is still relatively new or unclear to the DePaul community, even though it leans heavily on what has been commonly assumed and repeated about our mission (and included on the pens we have given out for decades now)—that Vincent de Paul was “pragmatic.” Many seem instinctively to recognize that this concept of Vincentian pragmatism holds something important and proper to our mission, even if they don’t fully grasp what it means.

In terms of the origins of the concept, it seems to date back to a 2012 article by a former DePaul staff and faculty member, Scott Kelley, who identified Vincentian pragmatism as a method for systemic change.[1] For Kelley, this concept clearly drew heavily from the deep well of the 400-year Vincentian tradition and the life and work of our founder and namesake. He was keen to emphasize Vincentian pragmatism as an intentional method or process of discernment rather than a detailed roadmap to arrive at instant clarity about a decision or action.

In a message to the university community for Saint Vincent de Paul Heritage Week in September 2023, “St. Vincent’s Extraordinary Pragmatism,” President Rob Manuel further connected the concept of Vincentian pragmatism to the “essence of St. Vincent de Paul” and to our work of embracing his heritage and legacy through our work today, inviting us to focus on a “mission-centered horizon”; create people-centered approaches; and foster a communal sense of participation, collaboration and innovation.

Earlier in the spring of 2023, a group of faculty had focused on how Vincentian mission informs pedagogy by speaking of it as a way of living and learning in the communal context that reflected similar themes of centering on (mission-related) values; actively involving the collective wisdom of the community; and intentionally cultivating communities of care and inclusion in the creation of what they called “Designing DePaul with Heart.”

Over the past few months, we, the current Vincentian Mission Institute cohort group at DePaul University, have been furthering this concept. We have reviewed related writings and research in our online Vincentian Studies Institute resources and discussed together what a tangible and useful framework for Vincentian pragmatism might look like and mean for DePaul decision-makers and groups. While still in its evolution and development, this framework emphasizes careful attention to the discernment process leading up to decision and action. This includes:

  1. Making Space for Discernment: showing an intentionality and willingness to “see and reflect” with an honest acceptance of one’s reality and context and proceeding with a “holy indifference”[2] to the path forward. This discernment is born of reflective self-awareness (meditation and prayer) and radical openness (to the presence and movement of Providence).
  2. Dialoguing and Consulting: demonstrating a commitment to listen deeply and with humility, valuing people and their collaboration and input; to seek out the insights of “wise persons” and the wisdom of the broader community; and to consider the perspectives and needs of those who are most marginalized and disempowered.
  3. Deciding Responsibly: taking the time necessary to understand complexity, to evaluate pros and cons of possible actions, to interpret and think imaginatively, and to always consider the impact of any decision on those who are most marginalized and disempowered.
  4. Acting with Solidarity: having the courage to act, to adopt an orientation of service, to advocate creatively for those in need, and to consider sustainability and long-range impact, including bringing others into the work and support of the mission.

We look forward to continuing to develop this concept and to deepening understanding of what it means in practice, but what is clear from each of the above examples is that the adjective Vincentian placed before pragmatism is highly significant. In the United States, while we are clearly influenced by notions of pragmatism that are, at their best, also deliberate and reflective in nature, we are also prone to cultural understandings of the term that can simply reinforce a “just do it” approach that lacks the deeper spiritual roots and communal wisdom called for by the adjective Vincentian.

In the coming months, we will continue to design and move into our future together and to better understand and develop the concept and practice of Vincentian pragmatism in all its richness. In so doing, may we continue to seek to understand and discern together what the adjective Vincentian demands of us, so that we may honor and do justice to the extraordinary heritage and mission to which we are privileged to contribute our lives and work, as so many have before us.


Reflection by: Vincentian Mission Institute, DePaul Cohort 7

 

GianMario Besana

Stephanie Dance-Barnes

Mark Laboe

Lexa Murphy

DeWayne Peevy

Tatum Thomas

Lucy Rinehart

 

[1] Scott Kelley, Ph.D., “Vincentian Pragmatism: Toward a Method for Systemic Change,” Vincentian Heritage Journal 31:2 (2012): 41–63. Available at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/vhj/vol31/iss2/2.

[2] For more on the meaning of this concept, see L.642, Louise de Marillac to Anne Hardemont, 20 December 1659, in Spiritual Writings of Louise de Marillac: Correspondence and Thoughts, ed. and trans. Louise Sullivan, D.C. (Brooklyn: New City Press, 1991), 660–661, at: Letters of 1659.

A Saint’s Fight with His Pillow and Other Challenges of Daily Life

I hate the daylight saving time change. I feel groggy and sleep-deprived for days after it happens. Around this change in the spring of 2016, I came across this exhortation from Vincent de Paul: “Don’t fight with your pillow … to see if you ought to get up.”[1] It’s difficult advice for me to follow in March, but the image struck me as so funny that I have remembered it all these years later. As I was looking for his exact quotation for this reflection, I found that he used it more than once, even with variations; “Believe me,” Vincent said as if he tried it, “there’s no use haggling with your pillow, for you won’t get the better of it.”[2] He noted that he often had trouble sleeping.[3] He and his followers were supposed to arise no later than 5:00 a.m., and Vincent told them to be “courageous in forming this habit.”[4] His choice of words suggests that this was not always an easy thing to do. (If it were, courage wouldn’t be required.) Here at DePaul University, where many of us teach or attend early morning classes, where staff may need to arrive early too, and where students may have late-night study sessions, we may particularly relate to difficulties with sleep.

Modern science tells us that it’s especially important to set a routine for sleep, going to bed and waking up at the same times. It also tells us that we should set a time for winding down at night, turning off our devices to read a book or meditate before sleep. Minus the part about devices, Vincent offered this same advice to his communities.[5] It, too, is easier said than done. I find unwinding hard. Whenever I try to meditate, I quickly lose my focus. Vincent acknowledged this challenge: “Perhaps you’ll tell me that you have so many things to think about that even when you’re praying you can’t spend a quarter of an hour without being distracted. Don’t be surprised at that; the greatest servants of God occasionally have these same difficulties.”[6]

If I were to offer a one-sentence summary of my thesis for this reflection, it might be something like “Saints—they’re just like us!” We often think of saints as serious people preoccupied with the big questions of life, people who were above our quotidian troubles. Certainly, Vincent did wrestle with big issues. But he was human. Knowing that he used humor and practical advice to address problems with sleep and mental focus makes it easier to relate to him. Relatability, in turn, leads to hope. If Vincent could rise above these things and accomplish so much, then maybe we can too.

Questions for reflection:

Regardless of the time change, millions of Americans have trouble with sleep deprivation. Are you one of them? Are there any lifestyle adjustments you could make that would help make your sleep better?

What do you know about Vincent that makes him relatable to you? Do these aspects inspire you to follow his example in larger ways?


Reflection by: Miranda Lukatch, Editor, Vincentian Studies Institute

[1] Conference 102, “Order of Day (Arts. 1 and 2),” October 6, 1658, CCD, 10:455.

[2] See conference 23, “Holy Communion,” January 22, 1646, ibid., 9:188; and conference 35, “The Good Use of Admonitions,” March 15, 1648, ibid., 9:303.

[3] Conference 4, “Fidelity to Rising and Mental Prayer,” August 2, 1640, ibid., 9:24.

[4] Ibid.

[5] See conference 4, “Fidelity to Rising,” 9:24; and conference 15, “Explanation of the Regulations,” [June 14, 1643], ibid., 9:95.

[6] Conference 1, “Observance of the Rule,” January 22, 1645, ibid., 9:172.

An Invitation With Your Name On It

DePaul staff at Nuevos Vecinos

It has long been a tradition at DePaul to hold service days during which students, faculty, and staff participate in community-based projects all over Chicago. Service is in the DNA of any Vincentian institution, and service days are just one small way in which we live out this commitment.

Every year the Division of Mission and Ministry dedicates a day for faculty and staff to engage in service projects identified by our community partners as a need or priority. On an unseasonably warm Friday afternoon in early February, approximately twenty-five faculty and staff visited four sites in the city to participate in projects as diverse as sorting clothes for newly arrived migrants, organizing emergency supplies in a food pantry, and accompanying those with special needs with their daily chores.

Having spent a few hours at the sites, the group then returned to campus to enjoy a nourishing Chartwells lunch followed by a meaningful conversation with peers, wherein we reflected on the activities of the day, the people we met, and the stories in which we had played a small part. In addition to some deeply poignant moments when we wrestled with existential questions regarding equity and the injustice in our city and our world, participants deepened old friendships and established new ones. Everyone seemed to revel in a moment of joyful appreciation to be part of an institution that prioritizes such engagement. As I scanned the reflection circle at the end of the day, I found myself thinking that Vincent would be very proud.

Afterwards, I thought the day was over as I made my way to the Fullerton El. But it wasn’t.

Upon arriving at the train platform, I was pleasantly surprised to run into a DePaul colleague who had participated in the service day. It was great to see her, and we used our ride together to talk about the activities of the day and to get to know one another on a deeper level. We found that we lived in the same neighborhood, and we had some friends in common. We were also getting off the train at the same stop.

Our journey north had already proved to be a lively one after a couple of surprising events that would not have been out of place in a dynamic novel. But then our train shunted to a slow halt at Wilson, and we stopped moving. After what seemed to be a short eternity, a message started scrolling in neon print on the digital announcement board. It stated that, due to a medical emergency, the train would remain at Wilson until EMTs could arrive. In that same instant, I noticed three CTA staff members huddling together around a passenger, who was sprawled out along the row of seats at the front of the car, seemingly unresponsive.

I found myself unsure of what to do next. However, without missing a beat, my DePaul colleague jumped to her feet and hurriedly approached the CTA staff. She said, “I’d like to help. I’m medically trained. I’d like to see him. I can help.” She crouched down so she could be on the same level as the man. Resolutely, she asked him, “Sir, are you ok? Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes? Don’t worry, we are going to take care of you. The ambulance is coming. You will be okay. I will stay with you.” After checking to see if he was still conscious, she gently touched his hand and stayed close to him the entire time while the emergency services were on their way. She was determined to let him know he wasn’t alone. When the ambulance whisked him away, he was still unresponsive.

Where this passenger went, we do not know. Who he was, we will never know either, but in that moment, the meaning of Vincentian personalism could not have been clearer. This man, who had been on the train for at least forty-five minutes and was seemingly unresponsive for most of that time, had been ignored by his co-passengers. When the ambulance arrived, his condition did not bode well. If someone had intervened earlier, his situation may not have been so dire. Yet my colleague had jumped into action. She had felt called to see how she might help him. It wasn’t the technicalities of her medical training that seemed to be the most important in that moment though. Rather, it was how she accompanied him with care and compassion in his hour of need. Getting down to his level, gently ministering to him with attention and love, and even holding his hand at one point, reminded me of the best of our Vincentian mission.

I had thought that our service ended when we left the service sites earlier that day. Yet watching my colleague respond to a stranger, perhaps in his moment of greatest need, with a kind word and small gestures that demonstrated that he wasn’t alone was perhaps the most profound demonstration of Vincentian personalism that I had witnessed the entire day. I was in awe, and I was reminded of the words of Saint Vincent that we had reflected on at the closing of our service day: “Let’s keep this lamp always lit in our hearts.”[1]

Every day, there are invitations in our life that ask us to focus on what really matters. Sometimes, this may involve reaching out to another in need and taking the risk to step outside our comfort zone and respond with an act of compassion. While we may never know how such an act may be received, if we listen deeply, we may find the courage to trust the truth of our actions and respond.

That day, I had the good fortune of being with someone who didn’t hesitate when she heard that call. I witnessed a small act of great love in that moment, demonstrated by a DePaul colleague whom I had just met.

I am thinking about that formative moment still, and today, I feel moved to share it with you and ask how you are being invited to demonstrate Vincentian personalism.

Reflection Questions

  1. Can you think of a moment when you felt called to respond to a stranger by an act of compassion? How and why did it stay with you?
  2. What act of compassion might you be invited to share at DePaul today that could lighten the load of a colleague? How will you respond?

Reflection by: Siobhan O’Donoghue, PhD, Director of Faculty and Staff Engagement, Division of Mission and Ministry

[1] Conference 198, “Seeking the Kingdom of God (Common Rules, Chap. 2, Art. 2),” February 21, 1659, CCD, 12:116. Available online at https://via.library.depaul.edu/vincentian_ebooks/36/.

Accepting Who We Are

Nothing causes me to examine myself, and my relationship with God, more closely than the Christian season of Lent, when the earthly and divine aspects of our human existence come together in their fullest, most challenging expressions. In my imagination, I see myself standing alone on a mountaintop for the 40 days of Lent, with one hand holding a mirror to my face, reflecting my authentic humanity with all of its fear and vulnerability. The other hand is stretched out, grasping for something that I cannot see, but that I hope is there. It is something that will help strengthen me, sustain me, and keep me safe. The divine presence in the midst of the human struggle.

Lent has taken on an even more personal and intimate significance for me over the last few years. For it was on Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, in 2018 that my father died. He went peacefully, surrounded by his family, with remnants of the ashes symbolizing his faith and his humanity still faintly visible on his forehead. It was a poignant embodiment of the traditional Ash Wednesday blessing “remember, from dust you came and unto dust you shall return.”

Recently, I came across a story from Vincent de Paul about his own father that, although centuries old, mirrors my own experience and serves to illustrate our ongoing need for what Vincent called simplicity. Today we might call it authenticity or integrity.

The story goes that once, when Vincent de Paul was a young seminarian, his father came to visit him. Vincent was self-conscious about his humble background and had not shared with his classmates that his family were poor farmers. When the porter announced that a plainly dressed man was asking for him, Vincent looked out the window and saw that it was his father, wearing shabby work clothes, standing outside waiting at the door. Vincent was so embarrassed at the sight of his father that he pretended he did not know him; he said there must be a mistake and told the porter to send the man away.[1]

I feel a guilty connection with Vincent around our fathers as  once, when I was a young attorney working at a large law firm, my father came to visit me at my office. As was the case with Vincent’s father, my dad had been a farmer. Years of working in the sun had taken their toll and, on this particular day, my dad was wearing a big bandage on the side of his nose where he had just had a benign skin cancer removed. Just as my dad and I entered the elevator to head up to my office, one of the partners from the law firm got on with us. The older attorney smiled and nodded hello to us and my dad followed suit. But I, embarrassed by my dad’s appearance and insecure around my superior, could only mumble something like “you’ll have to forgive my dad … he’s just been to the doctor.” The rest of the elevator ride was painfully awkward. Years later, I still cringe at that memory.

Vincent told the story of his own embarrassing behavior towards his father multiple times in his later life. In part, I suspect he did so to pay belated homage to the simple, loving man who had gone out of his way just to see his son at seminary. But Vincent also used the story for instruction. He was teaching his community an important lesson, one that is as relevant today as it was then: challenging as it may be, we must be willing to know and accept our lives and ourselves. This means not just the good and pleasing parts, but also the tough and embarrassing parts, and the times we may have made mistakes or even failed at something important. Without this self-awareness and acceptance, we will find it next to impossible to accept those around us. We will also not be able to bring the integrity, honesty, authenticity, and in Vincent’s words, the simplicity that is necessary to win hearts, build relationships, and impact lives.

This quality of integrity or authenticity that Vincent prized so greatly was clearly not on display the day his father paid him a visit at the seminary (nor, for that matter, when my dad visited me). But it is gratifying to remember that with time and practice it can develop as it so clearly did for Vincent. With intentional effort to accept our entire selves, flaws and all, we will find it easier to offer our lives to the service of others.

Reflection Questions:

  • Are there aspects of yourself, and your life, that you find difficult to accept? Why do you think this, and is there anything you can do to change it?
  • Here at DePaul, do you find that you are usually able to be your authentic self? Are there ways that you might be able to contribute to helping make our community a place where all members can be their full and authentic selves?

 Reflection by: Tom Judge, Assistant Director and Chaplain, Faculty and Staff Engagement, Division of Mission and Ministry

[1] Quoted in Pierre Coste, The Life and Works of Saint Vincent de Paul, trans. Joseph Leonard, C.M. (New York: New City Press, 1987), 1:14. Available online at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/coste_engbio/3/.

The Journey to Simplicity

“For myself I don’t know, but God gives me such a great esteem for simplicity that I call it my gospel. I have a particular devotion and consolation in saying things as they are.”[1]—Vincent de Paul

Recently I had the opportunity to address a group of students about nurturing mental wellness during law school. Knowing intimately some of the emotional challenges we shared during that period in our lives, one of my close friends from that time messaged me; I enjoyed the fact that we both had enough perspective now to laugh at the idea that I would be addressing others on such a topic. At the best of times, while accompanying students on their journeys I sometimes feel like saying, “I know and honor that this is really challenging for you now, but you are going to look back and really miss these times!” At other times I know students are faced with challenges that are more serious. But, in any case, I hold onto hope that there is room for perseverance and growth through all circumstances.

One of the reflections I had upon addressing this group of students was that, in many ways, law school was for me a time of emotional solitude. Since I planned to talk about the importance of a supportive community in nurturing mental wellness, I wanted to be honest that my own experience was often characterized by its absence. Still, I felt that was a tremendous opportunity for growth. As someone who was making major changes in my life during that time, as young adults often are, I found large amounts of time alone to have great benefits. While a healthy community is one in which we can embrace what Vincent called simplicity, or what we might call sincerity or authenticity, social relations inevitably involve some challenges to sincerity. Relations with others often invite the questions, Am I saying what I truly believe or what I think will raise me in the esteem of those around me? Do I present myself as I truly am or as others would like me to be? (Or as I would like to be?)

In a university environment, we pride ourselves on cherishing values such as academic freedom as essential to the pursuit of truth. However, a recent survey showed that among college faculty, whom we often think of as enjoying the height of such freedom and protections, more than 80 percent feel the need to “self-censor” their true views on at least one especially contentious issue.[2] While I don’t think all issues are that contentious, I don’t believe this is limited to one issue, nor is this only a recent phenomenon.[3]

In academia, as in other spaces, those who succeed can sometimes be those who learn best how to know what others expect them to think or say and learn to meet those expectations. It can be developmentally appropriate or indicative of an appropriate humility to tailor one’s self-presentation to the expectation of others. As I often explore with students, however, it is one thing to selectively choose to share what one thinks at the appropriate time and place. It is another thing to realize that one is so good at saying or doing what is expected that one no longer has an authentic sense of self that is independent of what is rewarded in a certain environment. In pursuit of such authenticity or simplicity, important tools can include solitude in which dialogue with the self or the Divine takes place, and a supportive community where one is free to explore ideas in a challenging but safe way. Christians in our community have entered the Lenten season, and Muslims will soon enter the month of Ramadan. These blessed times are filled with time honored traditions which blend individual and communal encounters with the self and the transcendent in ways which invite us to cultivate our best, most authentic selves.

Being people who can truly know what we think (what we might think of as sincerity with ourselves) requires certain conditions. Being able to share heartfelt and considered views with others requires other conditions, such as trust and charity toward each other. Some might argue that the primary condition required in all such circumstances is courage, and I agree. I would join that with a call for examining the environments and cultures we create, and the ways in which we nurture sincerity or encourage conformity and groupthink.

For Reflection:

Do you feel that you are able to bring your authentic self to your work at DePaul? What practices help you to establish and maintain a connection with your true opinions and desires? What do you think is the most essential characteristic of individuals or communities in fostering simplicity or authenticity?


REFLECTION BY: Abdul-Malik Ryan, Assistant Director, Office of Religious Diversity, Division of Mission and Ministry.

[1] Conference 52, “The Spirit of the Company,” February 24, 1653, CCD, 9:476.

[2] Manuela López Restrepo, “’Fear Rather Than Sensitivity’: Most U.S. Scholars on the Mideast Are Self-Censoring,” NPR, December 15, 2023, https://www.npr.org/2023/12/15/1219434298/israel-hamas-gaza-palestinians-college-campus-free-speech.

[3] See this thoughtful exploration of the intellectual costs of such self-censorship from thirty years ago: Glenn C. Loury, “Self-Censorship in Public Discourse: A Theory of ‘Political Correctness’ and Related Phenomena,” Boston University, accessed February 15, 2024, https://‌www.brown.edu/‌Departments/‌Economics/‌Faculty/Glenn_Loury/‌louryhomepage/papers/Loury%20(Politcal%20Correctness)_02.pdf.

 

 

Sometimes, We Forget Who We Are

Photo by Erik Eastman on Unsplash

Human beings are creatures who can drift away from who we are at our best. We make mistakes, show poor judgment, or operate from a wounded place. In such moments, we add to the world’s dysfunction and even unwittingly contribute to harm and injustice, despite our best efforts not to. This dynamic seems to be part of our human experience, which suggests that we would be wise to walk through the world with an ample supply of humility and that we need a community to hold us accountable.

Recognition of this human tendency that plays out in our individual and collective lives is at the root of the Christian practice of Lent, which begins this coming Wednesday, February 14, with the celebration of Ash Wednesday. The annual season of Lent is a communal practice that invites Christians to a time of intentional pause to reflect on ways that we may have gone astray in our habits and caused harm to our relationships. Lent is a season when we join our mindful attention and willpower together with the healing and restoring mercy and love of God. Through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, we seek to realign our lives with what we value most. (Learn here about plans for DePaul Ash Wednesday Services and Lent.)

I wonder what regular practices and habits in our work environment might play a similar role in helping us rectify ways we have fallen off course. Perhaps we might benefit from auditing how we have strayed from our mission, developed habits of relating and working together that are ineffective or even harmful, or allowed ourselves to drift into a state of “just going through the motions.” Perhaps, as an institution founded in the Catholic tradition, we might also use this season of Lent for organizational purposes to reflect on how we can refresh our work with new positivity, creativity, and efficacy.

The season of Lent runs from Ash Wednesday on February 14th through Easter on Sunday, March 31st.

Questions for reflection:

What might you commit to doing over these 6+ weeks (40+ days) to put your own house back in order, individually or collectively? How can you realign how you are living with what you value most?


Reflection By: Mark Laboe, Associate VP for Mission and Ministry

Building a Strong Foundation

“I certainly hope that you will lay the foundation … of the establishment being made, so that the edifice will be built on rock and not on shifting sands.”[1]

I have been thinking about foundations—things upon which something stands or is supported—quite a bit lately, because on January 25, DePaul celebrated the 407th anniversary of the foundation of the Vincentian mission. On that date in 1617, Monsieur Vincent de Paul delivered a memorable sermon of inspiration and hope to poor villagers of the rural community he served. This occasion was so meaningful to those assembled, including Vincent, that it contributed to a great surge of faith among the villagers, and led some years later to Vincent founding an order of priests who, like himself, were willing to devote their lives to the poor. Accordingly, the foundation of the worldwide Vincentian mission we know today was laid in a modest country church in France when faith, in response to great need, took action.

In a less institutional but more personal way, I have been reflecting upon my own foundation as of late. Unexpected challenges have made me stop and ask: What have I built my life on? What really grounds and supports me? And what difference does it make?

Albert Camus, the French writer and thinker, talked about the human crisis, the time when an individual, or an entire society, comes under intense difficulty or threat, and when difficult decisions must be made.[2] At these times of crisis, Camus believed, human beings have three options: they can throw their hands up in despair and impotence; they can take refuge in empty beliefs that prove useless when the going gets tough; or they can resist. For Camus, this last option was the best option, the most noble, the most virtuous. To resist means to respond to danger and challenge with courage, selflessness, justice, and love. To resist is to use the available talents and resources towards vanquishing the threat and serving the common good. Camus did not think that such resistance was easy nor was it always successful. But it was the right, and ultimately most effective, thing to do.

It seems to me that resistance to a challenge or crisis, whether it is personal or societal, stands a better chance of success if it is based upon a strong foundation. Values that are tried and true. Wisdom that has stood the test of time. Relationships that are healthy and nurturing. A strong sense of your “inner compass” and where it is pointing you. Vincent de Paul and his community faced the crisis of poverty in seventeenth-century France and chose not to turn away, but to resist. They based their resistance on their own strong foundation: faith, which, for them meant modeling their lives on the example of Jesus Christ; community, which meant that they would live and serve together; and a shared commitment to respond to the needs that presented themselves.

As human beings, we move between challenges, even crises, as a part of life. As Camus understood, during these times the temptation to give up or turn to a false, empty solution is strong. But, if we can muster the strength and courage to meet the challenge and then do all we can to lean upon that strong foundation, ultimately, we will prevail.

At DePaul, and in our lives, we seek to meet difficult needs and critical challenges every day. Having a foundation that grounds and supports us, that accompanies and unites us, will always help us through.

Questions for Reflection:

What is your foundation built upon? What helps to ground and support you?

If DePaul’s foundation is our mission—our Vincentian and Catholic identity—what might you do to help sustain and strengthen it?

Think of a time in your personal or professional life when you have faced a great challenge or even a crisis. Did you “lean into” your foundation for support and strength? How so?


Reflection by: Tom Judge, Assistant Director and Chaplain, Faculty and Staff Engagement, Division of Mission and Ministry

[1] Letter 1965, “To Jean Martin,” 26 November 1655, CCD, 5:479. See: https://‌‌‌‌via.‌library.depaul.edu/vincentian_ebooks/30/.

[2] Albert Camus, “The Human Crisis” (“La Crise de l’homme”), lecture, Columbia University, 28 March 1946. Click here to read a transcription of the lecture.

Creating a Community of Care

Mother Teresa once suggested that the world is hurting because “we have forgotten that we belong to one another.”[1] It occurs to me that whenever we have an opportunity to remember we are part of the same human family, and to respond to one another with love, the best of our shared humanity is revealed.

There is a lot of talk today about the importance of self-care. Indeed, a billion-dollar industry has emerged around this concept with self-help books, spas, life coaches, spiritualities, and myriad lotions and potions to address every kind of ailment that one could ever possibly imagine.

Without a doubt, self-care is important. To thrive as humans, we must tend to our physical, intellectual, emotional, and spiritual needs. A balanced life is something we all deserve, and we owe it to ourselves to strive to attain this. Moreover, it is essential if we wish to function to the best of our ability.

Judging from his letters, Saint Vincent de Paul would probably have agreed with this advice. He certainly encouraged his confreres and friends to find balance in their day-to-day lives and to take care of their health, “I ask you once again to work a little less and take care of yourself.”[2] Furthermore, he believed that healthy habits and behaviors were integral to realizing one’s purpose. In the name of Our Lord, Monsieur, do all you can to regain your health and take good care of it so that you can serve God and the poor for a longer time.[3]

At the same time, Vincent was also keenly aware that one cannot hope to grow spiritually if one’s focus remains within. As all the major world religions emphasize, a life well-lived requires us to listen deeply and respond to the voices that cry out from the wilderness, the margins of society. The Abrahamic traditions echo this message by urging us to care for the most vulnerable, namely, the “widows, orphans and strangers.” Taking care of those who are poor and marginalized is likewise firmly rooted at the very heart of Vincentian spirituality and DePaul University’s mission.

Additionally, Vincent believed that when he was in relationship with those on the margins, he most fully encountered Jesus Christ. Grounded in an incarnational faith, any opportunity to be of service to those in need allowed Vincent to enter more deeply into communion with God.

I have to love my neighbor as the image of God and the object of His Love, and to act in such a way that people, in their turn, love their Creator, who knows them and acknowledges them as His brothers [and sisters], whom He has saved, and that by mutual charity they love one another for love of God, who has loved them so much as to hand over His own Son to death for them.[4]

In centering the dignity and worth of each person to whom he ministered, Vincent was able to see that person as a brother or a sister in Christ rather than simply someone who was asking for help. This positionality enabled Vincent to relate to the person with mindfulness and presence, and to experience a level of kinship with them as he might a friend or family member.

To be a Christian and to see our brother [or sister] suffering without weeping with [them], without being sick with [them]! That’s to be lacking in charity; it’s being a caricature of a Christian; it’s inhuman; it’s to be worse than animals.[5]

Thus, charity became real for Vincent by entering into relationships with people whose names and real-life circumstances he knew. Such meaningful connections with “kinsfolk” ensured that care for those on the margins was never an abstract ideal based on an erudite theology. Instead, it was a lived response to a call he felt deep within to be a faithful disciple of Jesus Christ. Vincent answered this call through concrete actions to love and care for the most vulnerable. His journey represented a spiritual, ethical, and inclusive path. A path, which would never let him forget the essential truth that we belong to each other.

For reflection

  1. How do I find balance between responsibility to self and responsibility to others?
  2. How have you benefited from being part of a community of care at DePaul?
  3. What elements are integral to creating a sense of belonging in the workplace? How can these be created and sustained at DePaul?

Reflection by: Siobhan O’Donoghue, PhD, Director of Faculty and Staff Engagement, Division of Mission and Ministry

[1] “Mother Teresa Reflects on Working Toward Peace,” see: https://www.scu.edu/mcae/architects-of-peace/Teresa/essay.html.

[2] Letter 1988, To Edme Jolly, Superior, in Rome, 7 January 1656, CCD, 5:506. Available at: https://‌via.‌library.‌depaul.edu/coste_en/

[3] Letter 343, To Bernard Codoing, in Richilieu, 29 August 1638, Ibid., 1:491.

[4] Conference 207, Charity (Common Rules, Chap. II, Art. 12), 30 May 1659, Ibid., 12:215.

[5] Ibid., 12:222.

 

Inspiration for Sincere Dialogue in Difficult Times

Martin Luther King, Jr., meets with President Lyndon B. Johnson
Lyndon B. Johnson Library, Public Domain

“We live at a time when the world is full of violence, oppression and conflict.” “We live in a time of deep division in our own country.” Perhaps both these statements are true of many times, maybe even all times, but they are certainly true of this one. The communication technologies of our period also can serve to make these realities seem closer to us or harder for many of us to escape, even if we’d like to.

One of the reasons we honor and celebrate certain special individuals is because we hope that in their lives, we can find wisdom and inspiration for our own times. In the span of a few weeks at the beginning of the year, we mark the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr., the celebration of Foundation Day (the commemoration of the start of the Vincentian Mission), and the birthday of Abraham Lincoln. So much could be said about each of these days and the men and the movements they commemorate. Today, let’s consider what they might suggest to us about relationship and dialogue in difficult times.

In reading the highly acclaimed new biography of Dr. King by Jonathan Eig (who happens to live near DePaul’s Lincoln Park campus), I was struck by King’s relationship with President Lyndon B. Johnson. Johnson reached out to King three days after the assassination of President Kennedy seeking his assistance.[1] Johnson was a highly skilled political operator and said he was committed to civil rights but he knew he needed the help of King, who was then at the height of his mainstream popularity and success. They remained in close contact although neither publicized their dialogue, and both were wary of the other. (In fact, both knew that elements of the federal government were spying on King and seeking to destroy him.) King wept after watching Johnson’s powerful address to Congress after the civil rights movement was met with violence in Selma (and after Johnson had met in the White House with Alabama’s segregationist governor George Wallace).[2] The address called Congress and the nation to pass the Voting Rights Act. Despite what they were able to accomplish in this arena, as Johnson continued to escalate the Vietnam War, King would not remain silent, despite the advice of many who considered themselves his allies in the movement.[3]

In his famous “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” King stressed the importance of dialogue and negotiations (along with research to identify injustices and to engage in self-purification). Yet King rejected the idea that direct action was in opposition to dialogue and negotiations. King argued that while destructive violence must always be opposed, the constructive tension created by nonviolent direct action was often necessary to force those in power to engage in dialogue and negotiations with the marginalized. King said that while he initially disliked being the label of extremist, he now embraced the need for “creative extremists” for love, truth, and justice.[4]

While the time and place of Vincent was not one of direct action or of democracy, I would argue that Vincent and the organizations he founded relied not only on service, but also on creative calls through words and actions for those in power to accept their responsibility for those on the margins. The call for the powerful in France to live up to the Christian example and not ignore those in poverty stood in stark contrast to the injustices of French society. When Vincent was transformed from a smart young man who was motivated to make a better life for himself to one utterly committed to serving God and those living in poverty, he did not cut off relationships with the elite and powerful in society. Instead, he continued to cultivate them with the aim of using those relationships to fulfill his mission.

I have also been reading a compelling recent book on Abraham Lincoln by NPR’s Steve Inskeep.[5] While Lincoln, like King, is remembered for his powerful oratory, this book focuses on Lincoln’s relationships and dialogues. Each chapter focuses on a different account of encounters between Lincoln and another person who came from a different background than him and with whom he had a significant disagreement. What stands out in each encounter is Lincoln’s willingness to engage with those with whom he disagreed. The results of the dialogue were rarely about one convincing the other, but Lincoln used the dialogues to understand others better. He was a quintessential politician and believer in democracy, and he could use his understanding of the others’ interests to define priorities and create coalitions to accomplish his most important goals. Although as a politician Lincoln would often choose to remain strategically silent as part of this process, Inskeep’s book takes its title from something Lincoln wrote in a letter to his close friend Joshua Speed. Speed came from a slaveholding family and Lincoln “chided [him] for admitting the “abstract wrong” of slavery but failing to act accordingly.”[6] Still, Lincoln remained in relationship with Speed, signing off the letter with “your friend forever.”[7]

We all have different roles to play in life and in the university. Just as the roles and perspectives of a prophetic preacher leading a movement for social change, a politician in an era of civil war, and a saintly founder of a religious order in an absolute monarchy may differ greatly, we may see our own roles differently based on our positions, personalities, or other commitments. I see in each of these examples a call to remain in dialogue and relationship with others, even those with whom I may have profound differences or disagreements. I have seen a call to sincerity in that dialogue which means a willingness to express difficult truths and to listen to them. Finally, I appreciate the role that constructive, creative tension can play in individual and communal transformation when we are willing to channel that tension into dialogue and negotiation.

I am inspired by the people and spaces in the university that help form students to engage in these types of difficult, sincere ongoing dialogues. Among those with which I am most familiar are the Interfaith Scholars program and the Grace School of Applied Diplomacy, but I know there are many others. What are the ways in which you think DePaul engages these questions best and what are ways in which we might be able to do better?


REFLECTION BY: Abdul-Malik Ryan, Muslim Chaplain and Assistant Director, Office of Religious Diversity, Division of Mission and Ministry.

[1] Jonathan Eig, King: A Life (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2023), 351.

[2] Ibid., 435.

[3] Ibid., 514–30.

[4] See Martin Luther King, Jr., “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” August 1963, https://www.csuchico.edu/iege/_assets/documents/susi-letter-from-birmingham-jail.pdf.

[5] Steve Inskeep, Differ We Must: How Lincoln Succeeded in a Divided America (New York: Penguin Press, 2023).

[6] Ibid., xiv-xv.

[7] Ibid., xv.

Calling Your “Best Self”

While only a simple turn of a calendar page from one month to the next, the beginning of a new year offers a conspicuous invitation to begin again with renewed vigor on the path to become the people we aspire to be. It is a convenient opportunity to re-commit to growth, healing, goodness, hope, and possibility.

I have often found inspiration in a line that’s apparently common in Zen Buddhist circles, which simply states, “This is it!” This moment. This situation. Now. Here. All of it. Because I am so prone to “fast-forwarding” in my imagination to an ideal future, this line reminds me to stay present to the reality before me. As a person of faith, I view the present as exactly where God has placed me to do the work entrusted to me. The present is a place to grow into the person I am called to become.

One of the frequent reminders we can take from the words and example of Saint Vincent de Paul echoes this insight. For Vincent, the calling and presence of God, that is, the movement of what he often named “Providence,” emerges in the circumstances of daily life. Vincent looked for this. He tried to pay attention to life events, to relationships, and to the challenges and opportunities before him because he understood that this was exactly where God was leading him. Vincent was also a lover of putting his ideals and values into practice in concrete ways—what he understood to be the practice of virtue.

We might say then that the “most Vincentian thing” for us to do as we begin this new year is to bring forth our “best selves” as we face the realities that surround us. To create spaces for the goodness in us and in others to come to the light of day, to be nourished and cultivated, shared, and put into practice in concrete ways. To begin again to work with energy and zeal toward the vision of life and community that reflects what we most value, and to leave behind all that works against it.

Let’s do this together for the benefit of all and for the flourishing of our DePaul community. And let me/us know in Mission and Ministry how we can work with you to do so!


Reflection by: Mark Laboe, Associate Vice President, Mission and Ministry