Celebrate the Vincentian Founding – Mass & Lunch Wednesday, April 16 at 12:00 p.m. | St. Louise de Marillac Chapel
The DePaul community is invited to a special Mass and lunch in honor of the 400th Anniversary of the Congregation of the Mission—the Vincentian religious order that founded DePaul. Mass will be held in the St. Louise de Marillac Chapel (LPSC 1st floor), followed by lunch in LPSC 325.
Please RSVP HERE to let us know you will be attending the lunch. All are welcome as we gather in prayer and fellowship.
Faculty and Staff are Invited…
DePaul faculty and staff, you are invited to Lunch with Vincent where our distinguished presenters will be Professor Ken Butigan, from the Peace, Justice, and Conflict Resolution Program and Fr Stan Chu IIo from the Catholic Studies Department. Together they will share stories of peace and justice from around the world inspired by their faith and enriched by our Vincentian spirit. Please join us for meaningful conversation, warm community and a tasty meal!
Written By: Kayla Schneider-Smith, Assistant Director, Religious Diversity and Pastoral Care, Chaplain for Jewish and Interfaith Life
“The Passover Seder.” Courtesy of Lee F. Schwimmer.
The holiday of Passover is all about telling stories. In fact, the book that Jews read from each year during the Passover seder is called the Haggadah in Hebrew, which translates as “the telling,” or “the story.” The Haggadah not only recounts the biblical narrative of the Israelites’ exodus from over four hundred years of slavery in Egypt, but it also reminds us that “in every generation one is obligated to see oneself as one who personally went out from Egypt.” [1]
In other words, we can’t just tell the stories of our ancestors—we must also listen deeply, empathize, and reflect on our own stories of personal, communal, and spiritual liberation.
The biblical word for Egypt is Mizrayim, which means “straits,” or “narrow places.” For many Jews celebrating Passover today, these narrow places are often viewed metaphorically: where are we limited, and from what do we wish to be liberated?
When we think of metaphorical narrow placesin our lives, we unfortunately won’t be hard-pressed to find them—in ourselves, in our DePaul community, in our nation, and throughout our world. I think specifically about the painful polarization that has made it nearly impossible to engage with people who hold viewpoints different from our own, no matter how many dialogue initiatives we attempt.
In her 2009 essay and TED Talk, “The Danger of a Single Story,” Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie warns about the stereotypes, assumptions, and “single stories” we hold of others. In her case, she recalls that when she first came to the United States for college, her American roommate assumed she didn’t speak English or know how to use a stove. Many people she encountered had a single, often false story of what it meant to be African. And Adichie, too, admits that she held dangerous assumptions of other populations. She writes, “The single story creates stereotypes. And the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story.” [2]
Take the story of Passover, for example. When Pharoah orders the murder of all first-born Hebrew sons, a reader could easily assume that all Egyptians were oppressors, and all Hebrews were oppressed. But that story is incomplete. Why? Because there were Egyptians that risked their lives to deceive Pharoah and let Hebrew babies live, like the famous midwives Shifrah and Puah, [3] or Pharoah’s daughter, who drew baby Moses from the water to save him, knowing full well that he was a Hebrew. [4]
Adichie asserts, “The consequence of the single story is this: It robs people of dignity. It makes our recognition of our equal humanity difficult. It emphasizes how we are different rather than how we are similar.” [5]
Just two weeks ago our DePaul Religious Diversity and Pastoral Care team led a group of twenty students on a Spring Break Interfaith Immersion Day. We visited a Baha’i temple, had lunch in DePaul’s Jewish Life Center, volunteered at Marillac St. Vincent, and toured IMAN, the Inner-City Muslim Action Network. Students and leaders on our trip shared their faith journeys in many ways that challenged stereotypes and “single stories”:
One student pointed out that though many assumed she had always been observant, she had only just started wearing a hijab.
Another student from Kyrgyzstan, a predominately Muslim country, surprised us when she explained that her dad deeply values the Jewish community and had sent her younger sisters to study at a Jewish school in their city.
Our docent at the Baha’i House of Worship shared that he considers himself both Hindu and Baha’i at the same time.
And our guide from IMAN described how he had transitioned from gang involvement to a sense of meaning and purpose in his conversion to Islam.
Adichie writes: “Stories matter. Many stories matter. Stories have been used to dispossess and to malign. But stories can also be used to empower, and to humanize. Stories can break the dignity of a people. But stories can also repair that broken dignity.” Saint Vincent de Paul even echoed this sentiment and the words of the Torah, saying: “I have to love my neighbor as the image of God and the object of His love.” [6]
As we conclude Ramadan, gear up for Easter, and prepare for Passover this spring, may we begin to traverse from our narrow placesinto nuance. May we find dignity in our shared humanness and repair the dignity of others we may have judged too soon, remembering that we are all created B’tzelem Elohim, in the image of God. [7] And may we find joy in the gift of that renewed perspective.
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Please join us on Thursday, April 17th for our first ever DePaul Jewish Life Passover Bazaar! Featuring Judaica, macaroons, chocolate-covered matzah, 10-plagues-themed arts and crafts, and “The Prince of Egypt” movie screening in the Lincoln Park Student Center Atrium. All are welcome.
A Zissen Pesach (A Sweet Passover) to All!
Reflection by: Kayla Schneider-Smith, Assistant Director, Religious Diversity and Pastoral Care, Chaplain for Jewish and Interfaith Life
All are invited to join for the following prayer services on Ash Wednesday, March 5, 2025. Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of the Lenten Season in the Christian tradition—a season for prayer, fasting, and giving alms in preparation for Easter. Come for prayer, community, and ashes that remind us of our ultimate reliance on God.
Faculty and Staff are Invited…
Join the Global Engagement Conversation! DePaul faculty and staff, connect with our award-winning Global Engagement team to explore how Vincentian values shape multicultural experiences on campus and abroad. Learn how they support international students and discover ways to get involved in Global DePaul. Enjoy engaging conversation, community building, and a delicious lunch!
With the intent of nurturing our DePaul Catholic community spiritually (mass), and corporally (lunch and good community after!) we would love to have faculty and staff join us at this Catholic faculty and staff mass.
Please RSVP HERE to let us know you will be attending.
On the third Wednesday of each month, rotating between both campuses, DMM will now host a mass/lunch, especially for faculty and staff.
This week the worldwide Christian community celebrates Ash Wednesday, the traditional beginning of the Lenten season. The annual season of Lent is an individual and communal religious practice inviting Christians to a period of focused attention on prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. It lasts over 40 days, the amount of time Jesus faced temptation in the desert before his public ministry began, as recorded in three of the four Christian gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke).
Religious holy days, holy weeks, holy months, or holy seasons, such as Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent, are commonplace in many religious traditions. The global Muslim community recently initiated the annual religious practice of Ramadan. Jewish people will soon celebrate Passover in April. Other major and minor religious holidays occur throughout the year among these three Abrahamic faiths, as well as in many other religious, spiritual, and cultural communities.
Human beings are often aided by ritual practice. Aristotle said that we are what we do repeatedly. Mindfulness practitioners speak of the importance of the consistency of its practice, and psychologists tell us that habits practiced regularly over time can lead to the changes we seek. Through the pervasiveness of religious holidays, and, as Christians initiate the season of Lent, we are reminded that what we practice regularly shapes who we are and who we become.
Conveniently falling a few months after New Year’s resolutions were pronounced, perhaps these next 40 days of Lent can offer a booster shot or a restart to the vision you may have identified for yourself at the time. Repeating encouragement from a past pre-Lenten reflection, perhaps we might also use this season of Lent for organizational purposes, as an institution founded in the Catholic tradition, to reflect together on how we can refresh our work with renewed positivity, hope, creativity, and commitment. To quote an often-used Scripture text [1] during Ash Wednesday services: “Behold, now is a very acceptable time” to get started on habits that will aid us in becoming more fully who we are called or inspired to be.
Reflection Questions:
What is the vision you had for the year 2025 when it began three months ago, and what is still possible for you to renew or begin (again)?
What is one individual or communal practice that you could strive to make a regular habit over the next 40 days?
Is there a team or group of people with whom you might initiate a shared practice?
The season of Lent runs from Ash Wednesday on March 5th through Easter on Sunday, April 20th. Learn more about DePaul University’s Ash Wednesday services here.
Reflection by: Mark Laboe, Interim VP for Mission and Ministry
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
When was the last time you came face-to-face with someone who deeply disagreed with you?
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
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:
How can you transform your own world? Where do you find hope, and how can you share that hope with others?
What can you do to create peace in your world or your community?
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.
In the coming days, followers of the Abrahamic traditions will enter an intense spiritual time. Ramadan has begun for Muslims and will continue into May, and this week sees the start of both the Jewish Passover and the Christian Holy Week in preparation for Easter Sunday.
At this holy moment, I would like to talk about spiritual people, spiritual times, and spiritual wisdom in service to humanity, providing a constant reminder of something that is bigger than we are. Both religious and nonreligious people find a sense of something greater in community, or in humanity, or in the universe. Some may find this sense through love and compassion. For all of us, there is a place of connection beyond ourselves, beyond our own small egos. The celebration of mystery, and of the mystery of God for theists, is only possible if we individually and collectively dare to fully embrace our own mystery of connection to something greater.
Spiritual times are times for hope and trust, not for magical thinking. These are times to wonder and ponder, times for amazement and openness to surprise. For Christians, the time of the resurrection is a time to overcome our doubts and to end our exhaustion, our divisions, and our fears. This is done by committing to an abundant life, a life of love, joy, peace, and kindness, so that all might live with dignity.
For those celebrating this holy month, our faith gives us an opportunity to go deeper into our inner sanctuary, that holy place inside each one of us. This is the place where we feel connected to something greater and where we make sense of life, that place we call home.
Vincent de Paul and Louise de Marillac served humanity by caring for the most abandoned. Their life’s work was rooted in a profound sense of the mystery of God. They surrendered before this mystery. They trusted. Nothing of their lives and commitments can be explained if it is not connected to this experience of mystery, to their sense of spirituality, and their sense of transcendence and trust in Providence. Vincent often articulated his trust in Providence in terms such as these: “Grace has its moments,” “The things of God come about by themselves and […] wisdom consists in following Providence step by step,”[2] and “Allow yourself to be guided, and rest assured that God will be the one who guides you; but where? To the freedom of His children, to a superabundance of consolations, to great progress in virtue, and to your eternal happiness.”[3]
During this month, when billions of people celebrate their faith and stories of mystery and how they are called to be and connect in the world, I invite you to consider your own mystery. How does your grounding in something outside yourself give you strength and inspire you to care for others and our “common home”? I ask that you connect with the inner meaning of your life as you consider the larger social purpose of your existence, your work, your relationships, and the ways in which you contribute to the common good.
Saint Vincent never stopped recommending that his community—and we are his community today—pray for what is essential: hope. Asking for hope in Vincent’s Christian heart is asking for “the justice of God”; If we ask for that, “the rest of what we need will be given to us.”[4]
Justice, compassion, and solidarity can restore hope at all levels! May we all commit with pragmatic, realistic hope, a hope that is found in everything we say and do. This hope is a real source of joy and community, a joy of celebration and connection, committing with our faith or with our convictions during these spiritual times.
May DePaul be a community in which we all can struggle for and build hope together while resisting prophecies and actions rooted in destruction, division, and dissolution. May the celebrations of these holy days help us to keep our hope alive and to commit our entire selves to make our collective hope a reality, as Vincent always did with hope for the communities he served. We hope, we care, we struggle together because we are DePaul, a community of many faiths and abundant commitment to something greater.
Reflection by: Fr. Memo Campuzano, C.M., Vice President for Mission and Ministry
[2] Letter 704, “To Bernard Codoing, Superior, in Rome,” March 16, 1644, CCD, 2:499; and letter 720, “To Bernard Codoing, Superior, in Rome,” August 6, 1644, CCD, 2:521. Available at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/vincentian_ebooks/27/.
Have you ever had an uplifting, transformational experience that is so striking that, at least in the moment, you don’t think you can go back to the way things were? Where you lost your routine thoughts and cares and became one with the moment, washed away with wonder? Did it feel as if you were no longer just “you” but part of a broad tapestry of life and being, woven together in uncanny ways? This happens to me most often when I’m on a trip or in nature, quite appropriately in a liminal or in-between space. Often, it takes such distance from the mundane to open myself up to transformation. Hiking the heights of mountains, staring off into the sunset of a boundless ocean, living and caring for others on a service trip, or closing your eyes and hearing the echoes of music in an ancient cathedral … these experiences connect us to something deeper, as we let go of our normal patterns of thought and being. They remind us of who we are and who we can be.
Details of such moments abound in good books, engaging movies, the sacred stories of many faith traditions, and in different narrative accounts of personal and collective transformation. We find one of those in the Christian scriptures in the readings prescribed for this week of the Lenten season. It is a story of a literal mountaintop experience. A few disciples have hiked up a mountain, following Jesus. At the top, they see a “transfigured” Christ, who has been revealed as supernaturally radiant. They also have visions of Elijah and Moses. We don’t need to go into the religious connotations to see this reading’s relevance in our lives. For the disciples, their mountaintop revelation is an uncanny experience—an event that they believe will forever mark a line between the before and after. They are transformed as much as Jesus is transfigured. One of the disciples wants to pitch tents and stay in that moment longer, but it is carried away, quite literally, with a passing cloud.
That’s the thing about transformational experiences. The clarity that they give can pass by as quickly as a cloud. Even as we try to hold on to them, their impact can fade with time. We can be tempted to try and stay within them—lost in their beauty, but without a clear idea of how to integrate that experience into our lives. I’m sure we’ve all been there: we come back from a trip and pledge that we’ll do things differently! But soon we lose that urgency and inspiration and fall back to the status quo.
Our own Vincentian tradition at DePaul counsels us to lean into action after these transformational experiences. Vincent de Paul had his own seminal experiences, most of which were grounded in his interactions with others. From the dying peasant in Folleville, to the outpouring of charity and the insistence of Madame de Gondi on “what must be done,” to his lifelong friendship with Louise de Marillac, Vincent was transformed by his mutuality with others. He was able to integrate these experiences into sustainable action. They revealed to him our shared mission to help others with our goodwill and honest efforts. He charged us “not only to do good, but to do it well.”[1]
What are some experiences that made you lose yourself and feel a deeper connection to the world? Did these experiences share anything in common?
Has there been a time when you’ve returned from a trip or a momentous experience, and you implemented change in your life? What was it?
What helps you personally make sustainable change? How about collectively in your work with others?
Reflection by: Alex Perry, Program Manager, Division of Mission and Ministry
Our world is full of mysteries. Some can be explained by science or reasoned through logic, but some remain ineffable. For Vincent de Paul, a Catholic priest, God was one of those mysteries that remained beyond our grasp. From his Christian perspective, he once noted, “the more directly we look at the sun, the less we see it; likewise, the more we try to reason about the truths of our religion, the less we know by faith.”1 For Vincent, having faith without an answer for God’s mysteries was an important part of his religious beliefs.
In our twenty-first-century United States, the mysteries of the world are drastically different from those of Vincent’s seventeenth-century France. Advances in science, medicine, and technology have helped “explain away” many of the mysteries from 400 years ago. And yet, as much as we know today, there are still many mysteries we do not understand, and still others that emerge every day.
In the end, we are left with the truth that there are aspects of our lives which require us to have faith: faith in our community, faith in a higher power, faith in an unknown, or faith in something larger than ourselves that cannot be fully grasped.
Think of something that remains a mystery in your life. How do you rely on faith to understand or live with this mystery?
1 Conference 23, Maxims of Saint Vincent, CCD, 12:386.
Reflection by: Michael Van Dorpe, Program Manager for Faculty and Staff Engagement, Division of Mission and Ministry
Take a leap of faith. Apply to be a Mission Ambassador. Click here for more information: Mission Ambassadors Program
“The works of God have their moment; His Providence brings them about at that time and neither sooner nor later… Let us wait patiently but let us act, and, so to speak, let us make haste slowly.…”(1)
Interfaith Youth Core Founder and President Eboo Patel has described the time in which we live as a “molten era, a time of both danger and possibility.”(2) Certainly many of us have felt this throughout the pandemic, the protests that took place over the past summer, and this fall’s election season. Perhaps you even felt that way before all these momentous events began to occur at once.
One of the cautions attributed to the Prophet Muhammad was not to “curse the time,” for God is the owner and controller of time. This corresponds with the Qur’anic guidance that “It could be that you dislike something, when it is good for you; and it could be that you like something when it is bad for you. God knows, but you do not.”(3) The point is to be careful about hasty impressions, and also to remember that sometimes events that are difficult for us can bring good. It also reminds us that there are times we should undertake actions which are difficult for us but prove beneficial and important.
Vincentian spirituality reflects similar pragmatic and action-oriented wisdom, well suited to the current time. Contrary to misplaced understandings of fate or divine decree across many traditions, the Vincentian conception of Providence calls us to action. At the same time, it guards against panic and despair. In speaking of Providence, Vincent often stressed that there was a correct time for things and that they shouldn’t be rushed. This was often addressed to those struggling with impatience. Vincent encouraged them to see the wisdom in careful, reflective decision-making and an appreciation for the ripeness of undertakings or endeavors. The creative tension inherent in this mindset is reflected in St. Vincent’s directive “Let us wait patiently but let us act, and so to speak, let us make haste slowly…”(4)
One of the gifts of Vincentian spirituality, as well as other worldviews that emphasize the role of Divine Providence, is to understand the “molten” nature of almost any situation in which we find ourselves. We learn to see the circumstances of the world around us as invitations from a divine source calling for action on our part, both individually and collectively. At the same time, cultivating an awareness of God’s loving care for each of us, and all of creation, can help bring about a calmness of heart even in the face of recognizing our limitations and lack of control over outcomes. This makes the decisions we take and the collective actions we embark upon more powerful, effective, and sustainable.
What are some decisions that you are struggling with currently? What are actions that you have resolved to take to address the invitations the world is offering you? What will bring rest to your heart considering everything going on in our society and in the world that will sustain you over the long run?
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1) Letter 1890, To Étienne Blatiron, In Rome, 9 July 1655, CCD, 5:400.
2) Eboo Patel, Diversity Is Not Just the Differences You Like: Multicultural Leadership in the Age of Identity Politics (Beacon Press, Forthcoming 2021).
3) Qur’an 2:216.
4) Letter 1890, CCD, 5:400.
Reflection by: Abdul-Malik Ryan, Assistant Director for Religious Diversity & Pastoral Care and Muslim Chaplain
From “The Narrow Place” to Nuance
