The Vincentian Roots of Friendship

Written By: Miranda Lukatch, Editor, Vincentian Studies Institute

What do Vincent de Paul, Louise de Marillac, Elizabeth Seton, and Frédéric Ozanam have in common? Some answers are obvious: they loved God deeply, they shared a mission, and they accomplished enormous good for the poor. But they shared commonalities not only in what they did but how they did it. All these dynamic Vincentian figures relied on the power of friendship. This could take a practical form, such as networking to found and support their organizations. But they also relied on it to fulfill personal needs—to mature their outlooks and nurture the incredible amount of spirit it took to accomplish their goals. Much of what we know about these figures comes from the letters they wrote, and, especially in Elizabeth’s and Frédéric’s cases, many of these were to their friends. [1] Therefore, it seems fitting that before Valentine’s Day, which many countries now celebrate as a friendship day, we consider the role of friendship in our Vincentian heritage, our DePaul community, and in our own daily lives.

Let’s put the importance of friendship within our own cultural context—both in broader American culture and in the culture that exists at DePaul. Back in 2023, the US surgeon general made headlines when he declared loneliness a public health epidemic. In early 2024, a poll from the American Psychiatric Association found that “30% of adults [said] they have experienced feelings of loneliness at least once a week over the past year, while 10% [said] they are lonely every day. Younger people were more likely to experience these feelings, with 30% of Americans aged 18–34 saying they were lonely every day or several times a week.” [2] Considering the student population DePaul serves, these are essential statistics. A significant benefit of being a college graduate is an increased likelihood of having more friends, which provides cascading advantages over a lifetime. [3] This is a benefit we hope our students will derive from their time in our community. But forming and maintaining friendships in adulthood is so difficult that a specific branch of therapy, friendship therapy, has recently been created to address this need. Whole books are being written on how to make friendships work, and the New York Times even has a “friendship correspondent.” (That’s Anna Goldfarb, who has written an excellent book called Modern Friendship.)

Given the importance and difficulty of cultivating friendships, what can we learn from the Vincentian figures who excelled at this? They teach us that we should accept difficulty; just because their friendships were powerful doesn’t mean that they were easy to develop or maintain. When Louise first met Vincent, she felt accepting him as her spiritual director would be “repugnant.” Vincent did not want to be anyone’s director, and a curious two-year gap in an otherwise voluminous correspondence between them has led more than one scholar to believe there was a period of “coolness” in their relationship. [4] I highly recommend reading the published collections of the letters of the four Vincentian personages, which DePaul has made available online. [5] They show how affection within their relationships grew. There are two major threads running through all of them. First, these friendships were grounded not just in common interests but in a deep and common love (of God and of the poor) that was carried out in common enterprises. Second, the letters are supreme demonstrations of simplicity. Simplicity in the Vincentian sense usually means cultivating a deep sincerity, expressing a total alignment of our values, words, and behavior. But I think it could be extended to mean something else: profound openness about thoughts and feelings, in the sense of our internal states, in the sense of our affections, and in the sense of accepting the thoughts and feelings of others. Author and scholar Brené Brown has observed that the word courage “originally meant ‘to speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart.’” [6] This is what we see happening in the lives and letters of our Vincentian forebears. They had the courage to practice simplicity.

So, Vincentian wisdom shows us that the best friendships are based on shared values and what might be called applied simplicity. We at DePaul have a particularly promising chance to strengthen relationships with those around us based on this wisdom. We are a community “gathered together for the sake of a mission,” so we know it is likely that others here share at least some of our deepest values. And if we practice simplicity, if we have the courage to make first moves and to be (appropriately) persistent, if we are open about what is in our hearts, then in time we can build the same types of friendships that sustained our Vincentian exemplars.

Reflection Questions:

  1. Who are the people who seem the likeliest partners in friendships for you? Are these people you need to reach out to, or are they people you already know? Where are the existing opportunities to deepen these relationships, and what are some ways you can create more?
  2. How have your friendships with colleagues at DePaul inspired and nurtured you? Is there anything you would like to accomplish as a joint effort with your friends?

Reflection by: Miranda Lukatch, Editor, Vincentian Studies Institute

[1] Numerous articles have been written on the role of friendship in these Vincentians’ lives. In addition to those cited in other footnotes in this article, some of the best are Margaret J. Kelly, D.C., “The Relationship of Saint Vincent and Saint Louise from Her Perspective,” Vincentian Heritage 11:1 (1990): 77–114. Available at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/vhj/vol11/iss1/6; Wendy M. Wright, “Elizabeth Ann Bayley Seton and the Art of Embodied Presence,” Vincentian Heritage 18:2 (1997): 249–60. Available at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/vhj/vol18/iss2/9; Judith Metz, S.C., “The Key Role of Friendship in the Life of Elizabeth Bayley Seton,” Vincentian Heritage 29:1 (2009): 8–23. Available at: https://‌‌via.library.depaul.edu/vhj/vol29/iss1/2; and Frederick J. Easterly, C.M., “Frédérick Ozanam, A Layman For Now,” Vincentian Heritage 4:2 (1983): 140–71. Available at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/vhj/vol4/iss2/4. If you visit Vincentian Heritage’s website at https://via.library.depaul.edu/vhj/, use “friend” as a search term to get results for many more.

[2] American Psychiatric Association, “New APA Poll: One in Three Americans Feels Lonely Every Week,” January 30, 2024, https://www.psychiatry.org/news-room/news-releases/new-apa-poll-one-in-three-americans-feels-lonely-e.

[3] Daniel A. Cox, “The College Connection: The Education Divide in American Social and Community Life,” Survey Center on American Life, December 13, 2021, https://‌www.americansurveycenter.org/research/the-college-connection-the-education-divide-in-american-social-and-community-life/.

[4] There’s some ambiguity about whether Louise mentions this repugnance specifically about Vincent as a person or just about changing directors in general. Louise de Marillac, document A.2, “Light,” n.d., Spiritual Writings, 1. Available online at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/ldm/; Hugh O’Donnell, C.M., “The Relationship of Saint Vincent and Saint Louise from His Perspective: A Personal and Theological Inquiry,” Vincentian Heritage 11:1 (1990): 62. Available at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/vhj/vol11/iss1/5; Loretto Gettemeir, D.C., “Louise: A Life in Her Own Words,” Vincentian Heritage 12:2 (1991): 111. Available at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/vhj/vol12/iss2/2/; see also O’Donnell, “Relationship of Saint Vincent and Saint Louise from His Perspective,” 69.

[5] For Vincent’s letters, see: https://via.library.depaul.edu/coste_en/. For Louise’s, see: https://via.library.depaul.edu/ldmlcd/. For Elizabeth’s, see: https://via.library.depaul.edu/seton_lcd/, and for Frédéric’s, see: https://via.library.depaul.edu/ozanam_law/.

[6] Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are (Hazelden, 2010), 12.

How Do We Operationalize Dignity?

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

Some of you reading this may be familiar with the Chicago street named Ozanam Avenue, but how many know who this street is named after? Frédéric Ozanam was a French Catholic literary scholar, lawyer, professor, social advocate, and lay Catholic leader. Of all the Vincentian Family members, Ozanam has always had a special place in my heart. For me, he models something essential about how we can make our Vincentian mission concrete through our actions.

I first learned of Ozanam when I was a teenager at school in the UK. Inspired by the idea of a faith that does justice and eager to engage in community service, I had joined a school-based conference of the St. Vincent de Paul Society. Ozanam, as I soon learned, was the principal founder of the original society. He had founded the organization with a group of friends in 1833 while a university student. They named it after St. Vincent de Paul because he was considered “a national hero of social service” and admired by many in France, even those who were anti-Church. [1] The members’ goal was to help those who were poor, while at the same time developing their own faith. Keen to learn more about him, I happened upon a biography about Ozanam called Apostle in a Top Hat. Today, I might be inclined to be more discerning when choosing a biography. But at that time, the idea of interrogating a text for its authenticity was beyond me. For me, Ozanam represented a social justice icon and a man who was set on fire by a quest for faith and justice. His journey spoke deeply to my idealistic self. I devoured the book and have never forgotten the cover: a Victorian gentleman tipping an impossibly large top hat!

As I think back, our school-based St. Vincent de Paul Society was a modest entity. A motley crew of awkward, if well-meaning teenagers who, while moderately concerned about the state of the world, were primarily driven by the idea of long summer afternoons of not having to be in class. Our mission was to visit people in their homes who were seeking some kind of support, listen to them, and try to alleviate some of their needs with our adolescent vigor, then report back to the group on their well-being. We would also pray for, and sometimes with, those we visited. Our group was supported by a school chaplain, who could provide a higher level of intervention, if it was warranted.

Often, such home visits meant simply sitting with people in the humblest of homes and, in a show of true British hospitality, sharing a cup of tea, biscuits, and a listening ear, while they recounted the trials and tribulations of their days. While hardly backbreaking work or enacting any admirable social change, it was a powerful act of recognizing the dignity of another, and a way of saying, “We see you and we care.” We were grateful for the experience. We even got to feel somewhat proud of our adolescent selves, out serving in the community, no matter our real motivation for such engagement. In his time, Ozanam came to believe that face-to-face contact with poor families provided him with invaluable experiential learning, which in turn caused him to profoundly reshape his perceptions. My own experience of being a member of the St. Vincent de Paul Society also challenged my preconceived (and sometimes ill-informed) notions of poverty and social deprivation and reinforced for me the essentiality of interpersonal connection.

Today, the St. Vincent de Paul Society continues to be active in 155 countries. It has 800,000 members across 48,000 conferences, along with 1.5 million volunteers and collaborators. They serve over 30 million people worldwide every day. Conferences are based in churches, schools, community centers, hospitals, etc. [2] Their mission continues to be to offer support to people in need, particularly those living in poverty. The home visit remains an integral part of the service they provide. In this way, their ministry harkens back to the time of Ozanam when members would take firewood, food, and money to the homes of those who were poor. Yet, even in the days of the original conferences, it was never about the firewood, or the provision of goods, or funds. Rather it was about the compassionate spirit with which the members approached the visits. While certainly home visits were never the most efficient way to deliver assistance, they served as an important way to honor the dignity of the other by providing a moment of true presence and care, in a world that was often too busy to take the time to invest in such relationality. It is the spirit of love, respect, justice, hope, and joy that still defines this work, through which the members strive to shape a more just and compassionate world.

Admittedly, making home visits can be personally inconvenient and can even feel a little awkward. However, this simple act of humanity can transform a transactional service delivery into a meaningful encounter of mutuality, thus inviting a bond of intimacy, which no technological operation could ever provide. As Ozanam recognized, personal visits were a point of mutual exchange where both the visitor and the visited were beneficiaries. [3] This model of the home visit further hearkens back to the legacy of Vincent de Paul and the familiar story of the white tablecloth, a metaphor that calls us to approach all we do with the utmost care for the dignity of others. [4]

So, what wisdom might the humble home visit offer to us at DePaul today? In addressing this, I find myself recalling a question that a faculty member once posed to me after she had read DePaul’s new mission statement: “Dignity is a great concept, but how do we operationalize it?” I believe that the wisdom of the home visit can help us address this complex question, since the same personalism lies at its very heart and is modeled at DePaul each and every day. For, while the provision of concrete resources to help address a need is essential, it is the gift of sincere listening and a compassionate heart that defines us and makes all the difference.

Essentially, it is the spirit of love, respect, care, and empathy, and the commitment to right relationship that must inform how we support our students—and each other—at DePaul. Personalism must never be overshadowed by a mentality of just getting the job done in the most efficient way possible if it crowds out the personhood of those standing in front of us. Indeed, personalism must continue to define any institution that calls itself Vincentian. While efficiency and effectiveness are certainly important, personalism must continue to shape who we are and inform who we are called to be, just as it did in the time of Ozanam, and certainly in the days of Vincent and Louise before him. We come from a rich tradition, and it is up to us to live out its rich legacy.

Reflection questions:

  1. When was the last time you encountered personalism at DePaul?
  2. What might it look like for efficiency and personalism to exist seamlessly at DePaul?

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

[1] Thomas McKenna, C.M. “Frédéric Ozanam’s Tactical Wisdom for Today’s Consumer Society,” Vincentian Heritage 30:1 (2010): 11. Available at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/vhj/vol30/iss1/1.

[2] “Where Are We?” International Confederation of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, accessed January 29, 2025, https://www.ssvpglobal.org/where-we-are/.

[3] McKenna, “Frédéric Ozanam’s Tactical Wisdom,” 16.

[4] See “The Story of the White Tablecloth,” posted August 15, 2011 by Mission and Ministry DePaul University, YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CgJVAC7Na8.

Living Content Among Reasons of Discontent

Written By: Miranda Lukatch, Editor, Vincentian Studies Institute

Photo by Aaron Burden.

The winter quarter months of January, February, and March often seem interminable. Joyful holiday events are over, the optimism with which we’ve greeted the new year may be waning, and our ability to keep our New Year’s resolutions may lessen with every passing day. Spring break can seem far away as we stare down the maw of winter.

For me, the worst aspect of this season is feeling that my productivity is impaired while knowing that there’s so much yet to accomplish. The antidote is finding that I’m not alone and that even immensely dynamic people feel the same way. I’m accustomed to hearing stories about this from those around me—but it may surprise you, as it did me, to know that people from our Vincentian past knew this feeling well. In an 1835 letter, Frédéric Ozanam, the founder of the Society of Saint Vincent de Paul, wrote: “I feel inspiration withdrawing from me as it were in warning…. I cannot will, I cannot do, and I feel the weight of daily neglected responsibility gathering on my head.… I fell into a state of languor from which I cannot rouse myself. Study now fatigues me …. I can no longer write. Strength is not in me. I am blown about by every wind of my imagination.” [1] Reading these words, I think it’s no coincidence that this letter was dated in February!

How are we to cope with feelings like this? Do the founders of our Vincentian Family have any advice to offer?

Although he didn’t address the winter doldrums specifically, Vincent de Paul once offered Louise de Marillac wise counsel when she was experiencing profound restlessness. From the perspective of their shared faith, he encouraged her to bear ambiguity and dissatisfaction patiently with grace, saying, “Try to live content among your reasons for discontent and always honor the inactivity and unknown condition of the Son of God. That is your center and what He asks of you for the present and for the future, forever.” [2] Although these words were written about a particular situation (Louise was worrying over finding her vocation), they work for our scenario as well. In modern terms, we need to accept our feelings of negativity. Denying them only makes things worse; it makes us fight against ourselves. Realizing that these feelings have a purpose—even if we don’t currently understand it—is also helpful. Vincent was encouraging Louise to be at peace with dormancy, recognizing that it might be a part of the development of something. With that in mind, we can see the languor of winter as a necessary period of quiet preparation, anticipating the refreshed spirit and renewed activity of spring.

Reflection Questions:

If you’re experiencing seasonal discontent, can you identify any specific causes? Can these tell you anything about what might be developing within you? To put it another way, how might your winter be laying a positive foundation for your coming spring?

Reflection by: Miranda Lukatch, Editor, Vincentian Studies Institute

[1] Frederick J. Easterly, C.M., “Frédérick Ozanam, A Layman For Now,” Vincentian Heritage 4:2 (1983): 163. Available online at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/vhj/vol4/iss2/4/.

[2] Letter 29, “To Saint Louise,” [between 1626 and May 1629], CCD, 1:54. Available online at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/vincentian_ebooks/25/.

King, Vincent and the Courage to Persevere

Written By: Abdul-Malik Ryan, Assistant Director, Religious Diversity and Pastoral Care

The MLK Living Memorial, dedicated in 2016 to mark the 50th Anniversary of King marching in Marquette Park. The effort to create it was led by the Inner-City Muslim Action Network, and DePaul University was one of the supporting sponsors. See https://bit.ly/40khz1Z

Sometimes I wonder, as I know others have, what Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. would think about the fact that his birthday is celebrated as a national holiday. When King was living and working, the only individuals so honored were Jesus (peace be upon him) and George Washington. [1] King would likely be surprised that he would be so honored for many different reasons. He was widely unpopular among white Americans at the time of his death. King maintained a popularity with white Americans outside the South while he was focused on civil rights in the South, but became less popular when he turned his attention to discrimination in the North. In August 1966, when King was marching through Marquette Park on Chicago’s South Side to protest housing discrimination, 63 percent of Americans had an unfavorable view of King and only 12 percent reported a “highly favorable” view. [2] King’s increasing focus on speaking out against the Vietnam war and the planned Poor People’s Campaign turned even those who had been King’s allies, like President Lyndon Johnson, against him.

If King could imagine a turn of events that would lead to a national holiday in his honor, I am sure he would hope that it would indicate that many people had come to see that he was right in the causes for which he struggled. It can certainly be argued that is true in some ways. By 2011, almost no one (only one percent) reported a “highly unfavorable” view of King to Gallup. [3] If it isn’t the case that most Americans have adopted King’s pacifism, the majority have come to see the Vietnam War as having been a mistake. [4]  

However, King understood enough about politics and human nature to worry that his increasing popularity in the decades after his death may have come from a misunderstanding, or at the least, a selective understanding, of what he was all about. He might also think that naming a national holiday after someone who tried to be a prophetic voice for change can be something of a paradox. (Of course, Jesus preceded King in that paradox.)

What is the value of holidays anyway? Certainly, times for rest, reflection, and celebration are good. The King holiday on January 20th invites us to reflect on the questions around his legacy and inspires us to continue the good that he came to symbolize for many. On January 25th at DePaul University we also spend time reflecting on the legacy of Saint Vincent de Paul as we mark Foundation Day. Vincent attributed this date as the beginning of the mission with his sermon at Folleville. Today, when there is for many a general sense of anxiety about the state of the world and even the future of higher education, what can we take from reflecting on these men and more importantly the wider legacies of the movements they continue to inspire? 

I think in times of injustice, in times of violence, in times of poverty, in times of anxiety, in times of confusion, the first call of these legacies is the call to courage. Courage to face challenges rather than run from them. Courage to do what one believes is right rather than what is easy or popular. Like other prophetic figures, Martin Luther King and Saint Vincent envisioned a world different from the one they saw around them. They had the courage to articulate that vision and work to convince others.

Beyond that though, they each had the courage to have faith in divine providence and to trust even when times looked bleak. This is the courage I find most inspiring, the courage to keep going, the courage to refuse to become cynical. This is the courage to not just want change, but to work for it, and to be willing to come together with others to do so, even when it is difficult.

In a sermon King delivered months before he was murdered, he talked about the “if” faith and the “though” faith. King said the “if” faith says that I will be faithful to my mission as long as things are going well, as long as it is easy. The “though” faith on the other hand says, “Though things go wrong; though evil is temporarily triumphant; though sickness comes and the cross looms, neverthless I’m gonna believe anyway and I’m gonna have faith anyway; though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof, the Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.” [5] Vincent (also known for his sermons) urged his colleagues to “always be very courageous” because otherwise “that cursed spirit of laziness gives up at the smallest contradiction: there’s not the slightest discomfort it doesn’t avoid, no responsibility it doesn’t fear, no satisfaction it doesn’t seek; this self-love ruins everything.” [6]

I am amazed by the courage of people. The courage of people who are responsible for others, who have many depending on them. Also, the courage of those from whom no one expects (or to whom no one gives) much. The courage of those who people expect to give up. I am amazed when these people get up each day, when they refuse to give up, when they face their fears and doubts and the accusations and misunderstandings of others. We ask for the courage of that “though” faith in what we know is right, in the good we can do, in the good DePaul can do.

For Reflection:

What speaks to you most powerfully about the legacy of King in these times for yourself and for DePaul as a community? Where do you find overlap in the legacies of King and Vincent?

Reflection by: Abdul-Malik Ryan, Assistant Director, Religious Diversity and Pastoral Care

[1] Jesus, in that Christmas was a national holiday. Columbus Day was made a federal holiday with legislation signed in 1968 after King’s assassination, to be observed starting in 1971.

[2] Jenn Hatfield, “How Public Attitudes Toward Martin Luther King Jr. Have Changed Since the 1960s,” Pew Research Center, August 10, 2023, https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2023/08/10/how-public-attitudes-toward-martin-luther-king-jr-have-changed-since-the-1960s/.

[3] Jeffrey M. Jones, “Americans Divided on Whether King’s Dream Has Been Realized,” Gallup, August 26, 2011, https://news.gallup.com/poll/149201/Americans-Divided-Whether-King-Dream-Realized.aspx.

[4] “CBS News Poll: U.S. Involvement in Vietnam,” CBS News, January 28, 2018, https://www.cbsnews.com/news/cbs-news-poll-u-s-involvement-in-vietnam/.

[5] Martin Luther King Jr., “But If Not,” audio recording, Ebenezer Baptist Church, November 5, 1967, Atlanta, GA, Internet Archive, https://archive.org/details/MlkButIfNot.

[6] Conference 131, Repetition of Prayer, August 10, 1655, CCD, 11:216. Available online at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/vincentian_ebooks/37/.

Practicing Persistence

Reflection by: Roxanne Farwick Owens, Associate Professor, Teacher Education, College of Education


“God allows [us] to give rise to the practice of two beautiful virtues: perseverance, which leads us to attain the goal, and constancy, which helps us to overcome difficulties.” [1] — Vincent de Paul

In this season of setting resolutions, let’s think about the virtues of perseverance and constancy. If those came naturally to us, we would not be among the 43% of Americans who give up their goals by mid-January, or the 91% who throw in the towel by early March. Examining Saint Vincent’s quote above more closely, we see a few important words beyond perseverance and constancy: “practice” and “overcoming difficulties.” There are going to be roadblocks and we’re going to have to practice how to get around them. Why are we surprised when we are presented with difficulties in meeting our goals?

We live in a society that values immediacy and quick results. We can’t order express delivery of accomplished resolutions from Amazon. Success takes time. We have to remind ourselves to celebrate each success along the way. We may not have hit our final target yet, but we’re on the way. And we have to grant ourselves grace if we take a step off the path once in a while.

Speaking of hitting targets, I love to bowl, even though I am terrible at it. (I’m not being modest. I am really bad, but I have a good time.) In bowling, the ultimate goal is to knock down the ten pins at the end of the 60-foot lane. There is a lot involved in a proper bowler’s stance, the steps you take, how you hold the ball, the way you swing your arms, and your follow-through. One of the biggest surprises to me? Successful bowlers don’t focus primarily on the 10 pins at the end of the 60-foot lane. They use the arrows and dots on the lane just past the foul line to help them aim their ball at the target. In other words, they focus on what is right in front of them. They know where the strike zone is—but they keep their eyes on what is closer to them to guide their path to success.

Another interesting thing about bowling is that the ball doesn’t have to actually hit all 10 pins to result in a strike. If the ball hits 4 specific key pins, there is a domino effect, and the rest will all fall. If the ball hits other random pins, it can result in dreaded combinations of splits. It will still be possible to achieve a strike, but it will be more difficult. So, as we fine-tune our resolutions, perhaps rather than considering all the many ways we could improve ourselves, we can narrow down to a few “key pins.” Working toward achieving a few key targets sounds so much more do-able than splitting our focus among multiple goals.

And perhaps on those really tough days when we want to abandon our resolutions, we can say to ourselves, “Saint Vincent said there would be days like this.” And then we can pick up the next ball and smash right through that obstacle.

I am going to consistently ask myself four key questions this year that might also be useful to you:

  1. How have I practiced taking risks toward growth this week?
  2. In what ways have I assessed and avoided conditions that might make me veer off-course, so I don’t get stuck behind a roadblock?
  3. Have I regularly granted myself grace and celebrated victories large and small to keep up motivation and maintain perseverance?
  4. Am I remembering to use the arrows right in front of me to guide the steps along my path, rather than focusing only on the end goal?

Reflection by: Roxanne Farwick Owens, Associate Professor, Teacher Education, College of Education

[1] The original quote is in reference to boredom, but making this slight change to the wording (see bracketed “us”) does not alter Vincent’s intentions nor the quote’s universal meaning. Letter 1228, “To Guillaume Cornaire, in Le Mans,” June 15, 1650, CCD, 4:36–7.

What Anchors You … and Us?

 

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

A very influential and helpful idea on my personal spiritual journey emerged for me decades ago when I read This Blessed Mess: Finding Hope Amidst Life’s Chaos by Patricia Livingston. The simple yet profound main idea that captured my attention and that I internalized was this: just as God created life, love, and beauty out of darkness and chaos (see Genesis), so must we be agents of the ongoing creative process in our own lives, during which we often face moments of chaos. Furthermore, there is a creative energy that is present within the chaos of our lives that can ultimately become transformative and life-giving. Grasping this idea conceptually is one thing, but living it is another.

Fortunately, life inevitably provides a lot of practice by bringing us situations that feel like chaos again and again over the course of a lifetime. This might take the form of heartbreaking and tragic losses, illness and injury, or seemingly impossible situations in which the whole world seems to be against us. We may also have to deal with the painful aftermath of harmful human decisions and actions, whether our own or those of others (such as war and violence, greed, or ego-driven and self-centered behaviors). Whatever form it takes, the word “mess” is an unfortunately adequate description for what we often face in our lives. How could this “mess” possibly be “blessed”?

One piece of adult wisdom that helps us get through such moments comes in remembering simply that “this too shall pass.” I have heard it suggested that the difference between the child and the adult is that that adult knows the moment will pass. A child or adolescent is without the life experience to know that a painful life situation will eventually give way. Christian theology holds the profound understanding of the paschal mystery, modeled in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, to understand that there is hope and the potential for new life and redemption on the other side of death and suffering.

In fact, each “blessed mess” offers us an opportunity to clarify and define who we are and who we will become moving forward from that difficult moment. It is an opportunity to create and re-create our lives, grounded in the values and actions we know or believe to be good, true, and beautiful, and for the betterment of humanity. Victor Frankl, the famous Holocaust survivor, is known to have said that “everything can be taken from a (person) but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” [1]  Though I may first complain and cry in the face of chaos, sometimes I can also then laugh out loud when things start piling up on me and I realize that I am more… and life is more… than what I am experiencing in that moment. I am encouraged when I consider the freedom that I have to choose how I will face it.

Moments of “chaos” lead me repeatedly to the question: What anchors and guides me now and ultimately? What values and commitments do I want my life to reflect, and do I want to choose to live into in this moment? Which are most consistent with who I know myself to be and believe I was created by God to become? And how can we answer these questions in applying them to ourselves as a community?

Institutions and communities go through similar moments. Yet, making a shared commitment or “attitude adjustment” as a collective is quite a bit more complicated than just deciding to do so for oneself. It can be work, and it can require patience, empathy, generosity, love, and courage to get all on the same wavelength. Yet, having a shared mission to draw on can help a community like ours at DePaul. As we move through difficult and uncertain moments, our periods of chaos can become opportunities for clarification, for remembering and re-committing to each other, and for carefully discerning the values and sense of vocation that anchor and guide us.

I have often heard two related African proverbs quoted that emphasize the communal nature of the human person. They serve as important reminders about how we may best move through communal moments of chaos. One states that “no one goes to heaven alone,” and another is, “If you want to go fast, go alone, and if you want to go far, go together.” In a society and world that is so often individualistic or that struggles to bridge divides, such a communal mindset is countercultural. However, at DePaul, we often point to an understanding that we are a “community gathered together for the sake of the mission.” This is a modern take on the initials C.M. for Congregation of the Mission, the apostolic community we may better know as the Vincentians, established by Vincent de Paul. Our mission, therefore, offers us the encouragement and the charge to be countercultural in working and caring for the good of the whole, rather than simply defending our own individual positions or being satisfied simply with “going it alone.”

To move through moments of chaos in our lives, then, we benefit from seeing them as opportunities to anchor ourselves more deeply in what is most important and most true to who we are, and to do so together with others. The moment will pass, and we will endure. The question that remains throughout it all is who we will become in the process. Such moments reveal the ultimate gift and test of our human freedom, our identity, and our mission.

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

[1 ]Dave Roos, “Viktor Frankl’s ‘Search for Meaning’ in 5 Enduring Quotes,” June 7, 2024, howstuffworks.com, at: https://history.howstuffworks.com/historical-figures/viktor-frankl.htm.

Love Shows Up in Community

Reflection by: Erin Herrmann, Associate Director, Writing Center

Photo by Mike Labrum, Unsplash.com

“I believe that you work with one another to grow in perfection in keeping with the divine plan. All the actions of our lives can serve this purpose even those which might appear destined to withdraw you from that intimate union with God which you so ardently desire. Very often this union is established in us through no action of our own in a manner known only to God and not as we would wish to imagine it.” — Louise de Marillac[1]

When I began my role at DePaul in the summer of 2017, I was excited but also nervous. As an associate director, I felt responsible to represent the Writing Center well. As I started attending meetings with people from departments across campus, I felt intimidated; everyone knew so much and knew one another quite well. What could I contribute to this tight-knit community as someone so new, practically still an outsider?

Fast forward to autumn quarter 2024, which was perhaps my busiest quarter to date in my time at DePaul. Now in my eighth academic year, I found this quarter offered numerous ways in which I could readily contribute as part of the vibrant DePaul community: teaching two courses on top of my full-time staff role, serving as chair of the Communication Committee for Staff Council, and completing training as a staff professional for FY@broad with Study Abroad. While these commitments meant significant time and seemingly innumerable meetings and tasks added to my calendar, they also shared something else in common. These opportunities, alongside my daily work in the Writing Center collaborating with colleagues and supporting our student employees, were purposefully busy.

I define purposefully busy as those tasks that are more than productivity; rather, they are people-centered activities that enable me to serve others through the work. All the while, I, too, am being fed through my interactions with students, faculty, and staff who offer care and collaboration. As Saint Louise de Marillac says in the quote above, we must work with one another to fulfill our purposes.

In my life outside of work, I was experiencing emotional difficulty during autumn quarter. I walked through the final denouement of a long-term relationship in which I’d long held hope for a shared future. The fullness of my days attending to the numerous purposes I engaged in at DePaul offered a meaningful focus, but the grief of loss lingered in the background, at times coming full force in my mind.

Then, grief showed up in perhaps its most recognizable form: on November 5, my Uncle Roger died. It was the day of the presidential election, a fraught, precipitous day for each of us, and all I could think was “My uncle died today.” While he had been in ill health for quite some time, it was one of those times where things moved quickly, in a matter of days, from hospice care to his passing. My uncle and his immediate family live in northeast Ohio; my closest family members live in the suburbs of Chicago. So, on a weekday, it wasn’t feasible to be together. I didn’t have anyone in the immediate vicinity or in the schedule of my day to hug me. I was deeply sad and felt rather alone.

But when grief shows up, so, too, does love.

In the days following my uncle’s passing, I shared with colleagues about the loss; I received more than one hug. I even shared with one of my classes, and a room full of students offered looks and words of compassion and comfort. On November 13, I attended the Gathering of Remembrance hosted by the Division of Mission and Ministry. While I feel like a well-connected DePaul community member at this point, this was the first time I had attended. I’d considered going in past years but hadn’t been able to fit it into my schedule. This year also required some schedule adjustment to make it work, but now that I was experiencing loss, this special event came just when I needed it most.

At the event, I saw many faces I know and many I have come to cherish. Most were people from various parts of my “extra-curricular” life at DePaul, that is, not part of my official job description in the Writing Center but connected to me through engagement in our community. The staff members from Mission and Ministry hosted the event with such reverence, grace, and hospitality. The love in the room, even amid our tears, was palpable and comforting. At that point, I hadn’t yet seen anyone in my family since my uncle’s passing, but there I was surrounded by my Vincentian family nonetheless.

My purposefully busy autumn quarter ended with great fulfillment for me. My students were largely successful in their courses, and grades have been submitted. The Communications Committee of Staff Council has collaboratively published three newsletters to date. The training for FY@broad is complete, and I am ready to begin winter quarter with preparing an intrepid group of students for our trip to Ireland over spring break. I continued therapy and reflection, and my heart has started to recover. I said yes to the beautiful invitation for community when faced with loss.

The people within my Vincentian family and the DePaul community are the throughline—the accompaniment we offer to one another is beyond what I ever could have imagined when I first came here. It must be, as Saint Louise believed, that our unions to God and to one another are “… established in us through no action of our own in a manner known only to God.” God knew what he was doing in bringing me to DePaul and in bringing the DePaul community to flourish in my life.

Considerations for Reflection:

  • How is being purposefully busy different from just being busy? Do you see yourself engaging in being purposefully busy?
  • How have you experienced love in times of grief?

Reflection by: Erin Herrmann, Associate Director, Writing Center

[1] L.531B, “To Sister Carcireux,” July 18 (1656), Spiritual Writings of Louise de Marillac, 514. Available at:  https://via.library.depaul.edu/ldm/.

Wrestling with God

Exactly eighteen years ago, on this day, December 9th, I became the first woman in my family to chant publicly from the Torah. I still remember the opening words like a catchy song.

In Vayishlach, the Torah portion for this week, there are two brothers—twins—Jacob and Esau, who never really get along. One is smooth, one is hairy. One is scheming, one is brusque. In fact, they wrestle together in the womb. Jacob tricks his nearly blind father into giving him the blessing that belongs to Esau as the firstborn. The brothers’ relationship is a disaster from the get-go.

Jacob eventually settles in Canaan, with status, material wealth, and many offspring. Perhaps out of fear, perhaps because he truly misses his brother (the Torah often lets us infer emotional subtext), Jacob invites Esau to reconcile with him. The night before Esau’s arrival, Jacob finds himself alone, wrestling with an angel.

Hold up. Wrestling with an angel?

Was he hallucinating? Was he having a bad case of sleep paralysis?

In the Torah, it says that Jacob came panim-el-panim (Hebrew for “face-to-face”) with God.

What does it mean to come face-to-face with God? When was the last time you felt God’s presence? Was it during a moment of tranquility, connection, solitude, despair? Do you ever wrestle with God? Perhaps with the concept of God itself?

There are, of course, many interpretations, from rabbis and scholars, about what Jacob endured that night. But here’s mine: Jacob, alone in the dark, finally faces himself. He wrestles with his conscience. He admits to himself that he has, in some way, wronged his brother.

One of the Vincentian values we espouse at DePaul is humility. And not just humility when it comes to our successes or material possessions, but humility in the context of our personal and communal relationships. Saint Vincent de Paul writes, “You must ask God to give you power to fight against the sin of pride which is your greatest enemy—the root of all that is evil, and the failure of all that is good.”[1]

“Sin” and “failure” are charged words that don’t always sit well with me. But Saint Vincent had a good point. Holding onto our pride—nursing past resentments, harboring the belief that we are always right—detracts from our ability to empathize and see the humanity in those who hold different perspectives from us.

It’s a vicious cycle: when we can’t see the humanity in others, it’s hard for others to see the humanity in us.

The morning after Jacob wrestles with God, Esau approaches him in the desert, and, in an unexpected turn of events, forgives him. The brothers fall into one another’s arms, weeping. In a deep act of humility, Esau declines the many gifts Jacob offers him, but Jacob insists, telling his brother that seeing his face is like “seeing the face of God.”[2]

Panim-el-panim. Face-to-face. We can only really glimpse the divine in others when we come face-to-face with ourselves. Because we only exist in relationship. Never alone. And there are always angels.

Reflection Questions

  1. When was the last time you came face-to-face with someone who deeply disagreed with you?
  2. When was the last time you came face-to-face with yourself?

Reflection by: Kayla Schneider-Smith, Assistant Director, Religious Diversity & Pastoral Care and Jewish Life Chaplain

 

[1] “St. Vincent de Paul—You Must Ask God to Give You Power to Fight Against the Sin of Pride,” Catholic Digest Magazine, 14 October 2021, https://www.catholicdigest.com/from-the-magazine/quiet-moment/‌st vincent-depaul-you-must ask-god-to-give-you-power-to-fight-against-the-sin-of-pride/.

[2] Genesis 33:10, The Contemporary Torah (Jewish Publication Society, 2006), https://‌www.‌sefaria.‌org/‌Genesis.33.11?lang=bi&aliyot=0.

A Season of Hope, Peace, Love and Joy

Reflection by: Rev. Diane Dardón, Director, Pastoral Care and Religious Diversity

Several weeks ago, a crowd gathered to celebrate the holidays at DePaul’s annual tree lighting ceremony. This year the celebration continued as hundreds made their way from the tree lighting to the Lincoln Park Student Center to participate in Holidays Around the World. As part of DePaul’s commitment to honoring and supporting the spiritual and religious dimensions of our community, this event gave students an opportunity to learn about the multifaith and interconvictional traditions that so many within the university community embrace. Nearly 600 students engaged in activities or sampled the holiday foods from a multitude of faith or spiritual traditions. One of the Christian traditions that was highlighted in Holidays Around the World was Advent.

As a child, I loved Advent! I did not understand that Advent was celebrated in many Christian churches on the four Sundays leading up to Christmas. I didn’t realize that this was a Christian liturgical season that marked the beginning of the Christian calendar. I had no clue that the four candles on the Advent wreath that were lit week by week each carried an Advent message of hope, peace, love, or joy. Instead, I loved Advent because I knew it meant that we needed to get ready for Christmas: trees needed to be cut down and decorated, cookies needed to be baked and iced, and lists of Christmas wishes needed to be sent off to dear Santa. I knew that when the Advent wreath magically appeared at the front of the church, we had a lot to do in preparation for Christmas.

For Christian communities that embrace Advent, it is, indeed, a time of preparing for Christmas. But the preparation is not about wrapping gifts or putting up decorations. Instead, Advent is known as a season for preparing one’s heart for the birth of Christ. And more importantly, it is a time of waiting and watching for the coming of the Kingdom of God, a time when all will know hope, peace, love, and joy.

Unfortunately, as we begin this Advent season, we are also deeply embedded in a season of tumult and strife. In these times, many may find themselves watching and waiting for the things that Advent promises but struggling because of a sense of hopelessness, a keen awareness of a world that is not engulfed in peace, and disappointment because joy in a hurting world seems impossible and love for neighbor is thwarted by differences or indifference. It is in times such as these that “God offers us the saints both for our imitation and comfort. We can imitate their spiritual strengths and take comfort in their difficulties.”[1]

For the Vincentian community, we look to Saint Vincent and Saint Louise and are reminded that they, too, lived in tumultuous times. During their lives, Paris was growing daily with masses of people flooding into the city. There was political unrest, with royalty being forced to flee their homes and responsibilities. Invasions and social unrest caused strain on the military. Religious differences caused great schisms among the people. Natural disasters, such as tremendous flooding, increased the societal issues of

poverty, homelessness, crime, and overflowing prisons. Amid this tumult, Vincent and Louise lived in hope and committed their waking moments to helping bring peace, joy, and love into their world. They worked tirelessly to be the very ones who ushered in a new Kingdom, a transformed world.

In this season of watching, waiting, and preparing for a transformed world, we are encouraged to imitate Vincent and Louise. As imitators, we do not lose heart but instead become agents of transformation, encouraging hope in ourselves and others, working toward peace in our communities and the world, and offering love and spreading joy daily.

Things to ponder:

  1. How can you transform your own world? Where do you find hope, and how can you share that hope with others?
  2. What can you do to create peace in your world or your community?
  3. How can you express love through your daily actions? Where do you find joy, and how can you share that joy?

Reflection by: Rev. Diane Dardón, Director, Pastoral Care and Religious Diversity

 

[1] Quoted from John E. Rybolt, C.M., Advent and Christmas Wisdom from St. Vincent de Paul (Liguori, MO: Liguori Publications, 2012), 128 pp.

The Dignity of Help

Written by: Miranda Lukatch, Editor, Vincentian Studies Institute

Photograph by Akhil Nath.

Our mission here at DePaul focuses on helping others, especially those who have been historically underserved—the poor and the marginalized. It’s a wonderful mission, a noble mission. But I wonder how many of us also need help, and if we do, whether we are able to ask for it. Our own situations may not be as serious as those our mission calls us to aid, and we may not need advocacy or material support. But it’s likely that we need other things—assistance with work projects, perhaps, or, in our personal lives, help with caregiving, or managing burnout, depression, or grief. “Let me know how I can help,” we say when others are in trouble. But when we’re on the receiving end of such offers, we often don’t take people up on them.

In her book The Gifts of Imperfection, professor and social worker Brené Brown writes, “One of the greatest barriers to connection is the cultural importance we place on ‘going it alone.’ Somehow we’ve come to equate success with not needing anyone.” She continues, “Until we can receive with an open heart, we are never really giving with an open heart. When we attach judgment to receiving help, we knowingly or unknowingly attach judgment to giving help.” Brown argues that it’s a mistake to “deriv[e] self-worth from never needing help and always offering it.” [1]

In reading Brown’s words, I was struck by how well they connect with the philosophy of the Society of Saint Vincent de Paul. Its founder, Frédéric Ozanam, once said that help “humiliates when there is no reciprocity” and “becomes honorable because it may become mutual.” [2] Ozanam and Brown argue that help has a spiritual value beyond what is provided by immediate assistance. It allows people to connect with each other (and, Ozanam would say, with God) in a profound and meaningful way. Because of this, there is as much dignity in asking for help as there is in receiving it. It’s a lesson that runs counter to our cultural expectations, but it’s an important one to remember and internalize. The next time we may be feeling overwhelmed or alone, we should consider how we might challenge ourselves to more readily ask for help.

Reflection Questions:

Is there anything that you need help with? Whom could you ask for help, and how do you think they might respond?

Can you think of situations in the past where someone has asked you for help? How did you feel about the request? Did it make you feel more connected to that person?


Reflection by: Miranda Lukatch, Editor, Vincentian Studies Institute

[1] Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are (Hazelden, 2010), 20.

[2] Quoted in Raymond L. Sickinger, “Frédéric Ozanam: Systemic Thinking, and Systemic Change,” Vincentian Heritage 32:1 (2014): n.p. Available online at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/vhj/vol32/iss1/4/.