loss

Struck by Beauty

afraser5 Mission, Mission Monday , ,

 

What can compare to the beauty of God, who is the source of all the beauty and perfection of creatures? Is it not from God that the flowers, birds, the stars, the moon, and the sun derive their luster and beauty?[1]     —Vincent de Paul

 

On a recent November weekday morning, I was going through my usual routine, frantically hustling around my apartment, trying to get myself together and then out the door and into work. Back and forth from bathroom to bedroom to kitchen, collecting what I needed for my day—notebook, lunch bag, workout clothes, keys, phone, wallet. As I was just about ready to depart, I glanced at the clock and thought, If I run down the stairs and speed walk to the train, I just might have a chance to make it to the office reasonably on time.

All of a sudden, while I was shoving my laptop into my backpack, something made me pause and look up and out my third-floor bedroom window. As I think back to that moment now, it is surprising to me how much a mind is able to take in in just a split second. Outside of my apartment, the sun was bright and the air was clear. The leaves on the trees were translucent shades of orange and gold and were so close to the windowpane that I could almost make out the veins on each leaf. Through the branches and around the trees, below and across the street, the familiar trio of well-maintained Victorian homes were so vivid to me that I could see clearly the autumn wreaths that hung on their front doors and the mum plants that sat on their broad porch stairs. At that moment, standing in my bedroom and taking in the scene on the other side of my window, I was conscious that the world outside—the world that I was about to enter—was beautiful and inviting.

No sooner had that realization made itself known to me than a very slight breeze passed through the trees outside. In response, multitudes of leaves detached from their branches and began falling gracefully to the ground below. Then, as spontaneously as it began, the gentle rustling of the leaves ended.

The breeze had been natural, even predictable, and the falling leaves had had a beauty uniquely their own. Yet, in that moment, the feelings of joy and awe that had just welled up inside of me were pushed aside by something else. A different, surprising feeling rose up. I felt a sense of loss.

When I finally left my apartment a few minutes later, I continued mulling over the experience I had just had. Its sensations had seemed so much bigger and more profound than the simple moment called for.

Most of us learn, from witness or experience, that our lives, blessed and privileged as they may be, will contain some portion of sadness and pain. Sorrow tempers joy. Abundance and scarcity coexist. Light gives way to darkness. The truth is that these can be cold and bitter realities. The simple shedding of a leaf from a tree is nothing compared to the real suffering and loss taking place in the world.

But, as challenging and fearsome as these experiences are, they do hold potential for something good, for the growth of compassion and empathy and the strengthening of faith and resilience. The writer Kahlil Gibran put it this way: “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.”[2]

Vincent and Louise knew something of both the joys and sorrows in our world.  DePaul’s Vincentian mission reflects this in our commitment to peace, justice, and equity and to upholding the dignity of all especially the underserved and underrepresented. We, the Vincentians of today, need to be reminded of these commitments and values, whether those reminders come from the words in our mission statement or from a chance encounter with the world’s beauty and brokenness through our window.

INVITATION FOR REFLECTION:

  • Can you recall a time when you were struck by beauty or joy around you? What was this like for you?
  • Has there been an experience in your life at DePaul, or elsewhere, that has been challenging for you but that has also provided you with a gift or has helped you become a more compassionate person?

Take a moment to honor the gifts that you took from your experiences.

REFLECTION BY:  Tom Judge, Chaplain, Mission and Ministry

[1] Document 43, “Reflections on the Beauty of God,” n.d., CCD, 13a:160.

[2] Kahlil Gibran, On Joy and Sorrow, from The Prophet, p 28(New York: Knopf, 1923).

The Final Word is Love

afraser5 Community, Death, Mission Monday, Vincentian personalism , , , , , ,

“We have all known the long loneliness and we have learned that the only solution is love and that love comes with community.”[1] – Dorothy Day

November is a month when people of many cultures and traditions celebrate the lives of those who have died. Recently, you may have noticed the many beautiful “ofrendas” or altars set up throughout our campuses to celebrate the lives of those who have gone before us. Indeed, in the Mexican tradition, the “Dia de los Muertos” or “Day of the Dead” is a way of affirming the ongoing presence and spirit of one’s ancestors. Furthermore, at the beginning of November, Catholics all over the world designate All Saints and All Souls Days as a time to go to Mass and pray for the souls of the departed and honor their memory.

One of the greatest privileges of my work in the Division of Mission and Ministry is when I accompany a person who has lost a loved one. Sometimes this involves planning a memorial service, often held on Zoom, where colleagues, friends, and family can come together to pay tribute to the life and living memory of the deceased. People often attend these virtual gatherings with cherished photographs in hand, keen to recall poignant stories or offer funny anecdotes. Favorite songs may be shared, as well as an abundance of prayers and poems. In such emotional and reverential moments, we gather to say, “you matter,” “your life matters,” “your loss matters,” and “your pain matters to me and to us.” While no one can take away the brokenness of a grieving heart, we can certainly walk together and support each other when the journey ahead feels daunting and perhaps even impossible to travel alone. Walking together in love is what Vincentian personalism calls us to do. It is the best of DePaul.

There is certainly no one blueprint to help us navigate the meandering journey of grief. Indeed, we must all forge our own journey along this most human of paths. Yet, at DePaul we understand ourselves to be “a community gathered together for the sake of the mission.” We are a place that offers a deep sense of belonging; a place where we “take care DePaul;” and a place of human flourishing. So, what, beyond individual acts of human kindness, might we do as a community to support those who are recently bereaved?

One November, perhaps over a decade ago, such questions prompted the Division of Mission and Ministry to invite our DePaul community to come together in a show of solidarity and support with those who were grieving among us. We called this event the “Gathering of Remembrance” and it has continued ever since. The Gathering, which is a short interfaith service, invites DePaul to pause and make the world stop for the smallest of moments to remember those who have died. It also serves to assure their loved ones that we are here to walk with them as long as the journey of grief may take. During this short service, we read aloud the names of recently deceased loved ones that a DePaul community member has shared with us, and we call these people to mind in prayer. It is a service that is both beautiful and powerful in its simplicity. We remember those who have died. We honor them, and we let our colleagues and DePaul friends know they are not alone in this journey we call life. We walk together in love and that love is demonstrated through community.

On November 16th at 4:30 pm in the Commons, I would like to invite you to join us for this year’s Gathering of Remembrance. In making this invitation, the words of Dorothy Day resonate deeply within my heart, “We have all known the long loneliness and we have learned that the only solution is love and that love comes with community.”

We hope to see you there, but even if you can’t join us, feel free to send any names of your loved one(s) who have died during the last year that you would like us to remember.

If you would like to attend the Gathering of Remembrance click here to RSVP.

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

[1] “The Final Word Is Love,” Dorothy Day, 1 February 1952, at: https://catholicworker.org/ddlw-867/.

Finding Hope in Dark Times

afraser5 Hope, Mission Monday , , , ,
French holy card which reads, “A good conscience is in unalterable joy and peace, even in the midst of adversities.”

“Another effect of charity is to rejoice with those who rejoice. It causes us to enter into their joy … to unite us in one mind and in joy as well as in sorrow.”[1] – Saint Vincent de Paul

I have a sense these days that folks are having a hard time feeling hopeful. I only need to glance at the front page of the newspaper to understand why. I gave up consuming too much news a while back. It wasn’t doing any good for my soul.

From the little I’ve read and heard, Saint Vincent de Paul seems to have been a joyful person. He, too, lived at a time when there was plenty to be worried about. Plagues ravaged Europe in Vincent’s day, institutional corruption ran deep, and the social order was profoundly unfair. The poor that he spent so many years serving bore the brunt of the suffering. He had beloved friends die young and violently. He took these losses hard. Yet he found a way to remain joyful. Vincent is certainly not the only person who has known loss all too well but remained hopeful, joyful, and grateful. What’s their secret?

Last month I was listening to a podcast on grief and loss created by Anderson Cooper called “All There Is.” One of the episodes is an extraordinary interview with Stephen Colbert. At age ten, Stephen lost his father and two teenage brothers in a plane crash. That is a defining experience in his life, obviously. Of course, he wishes that didn’t happen. Yet he will say he’s grateful for it. Stephen believes in his core that it is a gift to exist. He knows that existence comes with suffering; it’s unavoidable. He believes that if you’re grateful for your life, you have to be grateful for all of it. While he wishes that tragedy never happened, he knows that having experienced that unimaginable loss made him a more compassionate, more human person. He can’t help but acknowledge that it has helped him love others in a deeper way. In that sense, Stephen is grateful for the thing he most wishes didn’t happen. This tragedy did not keep Stephen from being a joyful, hopeful person. I think he’s on to something.

Later this month, I will be accompanying a group of students on a service immersion trip to El Salvador. From what I have read of the history of Central and South America, I have been impressed by how a suffering and oppressed people produced beautiful music and art that spoke not only to their resilience and courage but indeed to their joyfulness. On a recent trip to Ireland, I was again struck by how much beautiful poetry, as well as raucously fun music and dance, seems to come from those who suffer greatly. How do they do it? On the trip to El Salvador, my role is staff mentor. I think, however, that I have much more to learn than to impart.

I’m thinking Vincent’s secret might lie in his animating question: “What must be done?” Vincent, Louise, and those they served with didn’t just lament the suffering of others. They went and lived with those who were afflicted. They walked with them and shared in their lives. My guess is they hated the circumstances that resulted in such suffering. Like Stephen Colbert, however, they leaned into the reality of the thing they wished wasn’t so. In sharing in the suffering of others, they also shared in their joy.

I don’t pretend to know the answer to the question of how to remain hopeful in these dark times. But I suspect that running away from suffering isn’t the answer. Nor is reading about it and lamenting it. Maybe, paradoxically, going through it with others is a better strategy.

Reflection Question:

Ponder artworks, poems, movies, etc. that are sad or tragic while also being unbearably beautiful. How is it that those two things can coexist in your heart?

Reflection by: Rich Goode, Executive Director, Planned Giving | Advancement and External Relations

[1] Conference 207, Charity (Common Rules, Chap. II, Art. 12), 30 May 1659, CCD, 12:222. See: https:‌‌//‌‌via.library.depaul.edu/vincentian_ebooks/36/.

Sharing Our Trials as Well as Our Joys

bcicirel Community, Islam, Mission Monday , , , , ,

“I received your letter yesterday; as always, it gave me fresh reasons for praising God. Still, it troubled me a little because, from what you tell me in your last letter, it seems to me you are suffering from something, although you did not state this clearly. Please share with me, Monsieur, your trials as well as your joys.”[1]

Moses (Peace be upon Him) is one of the most important figures in all three Abrahamic traditions,[2] and historically in American culture.[3] The Qur’an devotes more time to the life of Moses[4] than to any other person. In the Qur’anic telling, when Moses flees Egypt and the Pharaoh he arrives in Midian in a desperate situation. He hasn’t had anything to eat other than leaves, is physically drained and exhausted, and he remains deeply fearful that there are powerful forces seeking to capture and punish him. He is separated from all that was once dear and familiar. Moses comes across a large group of men watering their animals at a well, but his attention is drawn to two women who are said to be holding back theirs. Moses approaches them and asks “what is the matter?”[5] After they explain that their father is old and can’t come to the well, and that the men will not let them water their animals, Moses assists them and waters their animals himself. Moses then leaves to rest and pray to God, but this is the beginning of an unexpected blessing that will radically shift the course of his future.

Many of us have experienced, especially in times of loss, anxiety, or other suffering, the blessing of having someone listen to our story or to our feelings. In some cases they may be able to assist us in material ways. At other times, perhaps they can only accompany us in our grief or hardship. Either way, it often feels that sharing our burdens lessens them. This is what profoundly struck me in the excerpt above: “Please share with me Monsieur, your trials as well as your joys.” As Marilynne Robinson says in Gilead, “There’s a lot under the surface of life, everyone knows that.”[6] When we are able through words or actions, let those close to us know that they can share with us what is normally kept under the surface, their trials as well as their joys. This can be a powerful step towards creating real community. We strive to make DePaul more than just a workplace. We strive to create a community joined together for the sake of mission. Let us ask ourselves how we can be open to those around us, whether it be students we serve, those we supervise, or the fellow employees we encounter and work alongside.

There are many ways people respond to the brokenness of our world. One of the most memorable characters in literature is found in Charles Dickens’ Bleak House. Mrs. Jellyby fills her every moment with “work” towards an idealistic project in Africa, which she thinks will do enormous social good. Yet this project never comes to fruition. All the while she is ignoring the sufferings of those close to her, including her husband and her own children. In truly listening to the trials and joys of others, that which is under the surface, we begin to discern how we can best respond to those challenges that are within our sphere of influence. We see changes that can be made and realities that can be faced together.

For Reflection: Is there someone in your life with whom you can truly share your trials as well as your joys? Are there people for whom you provide that deep listening? What are some of the reasons we may be reluctant to share with others, or open ourselves to others sharing with us? How can we overcome these barriers to deeper community?

—

Reflection by: Abdul-Malik Ryan, Muslim Chaplain and Assistant Director of Religious Diversity and Pastoral Care, Division of Mission and Ministry

See also our past Mission Monday reflection “Being Fully Present” by Emily Lahood-Olsen, based on a quotation from Saint Louise de Marillac: https://blogs.depaul.edu/dmm/2019/10/21/being-fully-present/

We remind all of you that one of the ways you are invited to share with the DePaul community, whether sharing news of weddings, births, adoptions, or bereavements in your immediate family, is through the Newsline Family Events column: https://resources.depaul.edu/newsline/contact/Pages/life-events.aspx

You are also invited to share any requests for prayer with the Division of Mission and Ministry at: https://offices.depaul.edu/mission-ministry/religious-spiritual-life/Pages/Prayer-Requests.aspx

[1] Letter 1823, To Charles Ozenne, Superior, In Warsaw, 1 January 1655, CCD, 5:255.

[2] Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. As I remarked in a recent interfaith dialogue event about Moses, perhaps they could just as accurately (if not more so) be referred to as the three Mosaic faiths or traditions.

[3] Moses serves as one of the most popular superhero archetypes in popular culture and historically has been a touchstone for all Americans regardless of their political beliefs.

[4] In Arabic, Musa.

[5] Qur’an 28:22-24.

[6] Marilynne Robinson, Gilead (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004), p. 6.