Columns

Monday, 20 May 2013 03:02

Benedict, when telling this story, compared himself not to the saint but to the bear, sometimes lamenting his predecessor calling him to Rome, but unlike the bear not allowing him his freedom. As Cardinal Ratzinger, prefect for the congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, he tried to resign a few times and return to Germany to teach theology, but his pope wouldn't allow it.

St. Corbinian's bear, as God's beast of burden, most definitely symbolized the weight of the Petrine office in which Benedict carried over the past eight years. Now the weight of his office as Bishop of Rome and Chief Shepherd of Christ's flock on earth has become all too much for the aging pope that he has finally decided to give the bear back his freedom.

His recent resignation makes him one of the few popes in history to abdicate his throne and the first in 600 years to do so. Now the reason why I say his recent resignation shocked me but did not surprise me is that Benedict has for the past few years through word and deed indicated that his resignation was a possibility. On two occasions: April 29 in 2009 and July 4 in 2010, Benedict visited the tomb of Pope St. Celestine V, leaving there his own pallium, a symbol of his authority as Christ's vicar and the plentitude of his pontifical office, and began wearing a new pallium designed after Pope Celestine V's. One can now see the relation of this event and Benedict's recent resignation.

Celestine was a holy monk back in the 13th century, taking St. John the Baptist as his model. He wore a hair shirt and a chain of iron as penitential instruments. He fasted every day except Sunday and each year he kept four Lents on bread and water alone. He was elected pope in 1294, in a time of great corruption and contention in the church not unlike today.

Celestine was elected pope at 80 years of age; Benedict was 78 when he was elected pope in 2005. In Celestine, the church had a holy leader and many devout Catholics at that time thought the church would be reformed by this good man. This quiet and learned monk pleaded with the cardinals not to choose him. But having been chosen, he accepted the office only to give it up after five months by resigning, having found the burden of the office too heavy, struggling in vain to guide a seemingly ungovernable bark of Peter back then. He thought he would end his life in peace, but his successor Boniface VIII, fearing his opponents might use Celestine as a rallying point, ordered him confined in prison.

Thus, Benedict was showing us for some time that he was thinking of following in the footsteps of the saintly Pope St. Celestine by resigning. In his book, "The Light of the World," Benedict said, "If a pope clearly realizes that he is no longer physically, psychologically and spiritually capable of handling the duties of his office, then he has a right, and under some circumstances, also an obligation to resign." And so with shock but without great surprise, Benedict like Celestine, who also didn't want the Petrine Office and like him has struggled to guide a seemingly ungovernable bark of Peter that seems about to sink, has now followed the footsteps of his saintly predecessor and resigned in all humility.

Unlike his predecessor Pope St. Celestine V, may this bear from Germany, also a holy and learned man, be given his freedom to devoutly serve the Holy Church of God in the future through a life dedicated to prayer, calling on God to save and sanctify the church through his successor. May God continue to bless and reward this Servant of the Servants of God (Servus servorum Dei).

Father Ronan Murphy is a priest of the Diocese of Camden.

Columns

Monday, 20 May 2013 03:02

On our first Feb. 14 together, my husband and I both decided (separately) to surprise each other with an extravagant gift that would break our budget but bring tears of joy to our eyes.
We lived in Norfolk, Va., where my husband was stationed, and the Ice Capades were going to be in town for the weekend. Growing up in Atlantic City, my friends and I thought of that show as the ultimate entertainment, but alas, we seldom saw a performance because no one had that kind of money to spare. Now I would have an opportunity to express my affection in a tangible way.

I could hardly wait to see the look in his eyes as he opened the envelope containing the tickets. He seemed to be eager to present his gift as well.

On Valentine's Day morning, we could hardly finish our breakfast we were so excited. I held my breath as my hubby opened his envelope. From his expression, he could have been clutching hot coals in his hands.

Finally, he smiled and insisted that I open my card. I was nervous as I tore it open, and I nearly fainted when I saw the contents.

In addition to a romantic greeting promising undying love, there were two tickets to a hockey game to be played the following Saturday night at the same arena as the ice show.
In our zeal to produce the perfect gift, each of us had chosen our own "perfect gift."

At that moment, I realized that my dreams were not necessarily his, and vice versa. In my dream, every girl longed to strap on the graceful white skates, don the colorful short skirt and glide across the ice in the arms of a handsome Prince Charming.

On the other hand, my husband's home town was a Maine village with many lakes and ponds where children learned to skate almost as soon as they took first steps. Every boy had a pair of clunky black skates, a homemade hockey stick and a helmet of sorts. All winter, they assembled on somebody's pond and chased an improvised puck. There was nothing graceful about those trips across the ice.

As it turned out, our gifts to each other were to share one another's dream evening without complaint. I vowed to try to stay warm and to ask as few questions as possible. He pretended to know why the skaters were dressed so scantily and seemed to be dancing more than skating.

When all is said and done, it is not what we give one another or do for one another but the spirit in which we do it that truly conveys our love. When we genuinely attempt to do what is proper, we are right even when we are wrong. It is the respect for the receiver that sets apart the action and makes it a special gift. The compact between a generous giver and a gracious receiver is such that a bond is forged, and that bond endures long after the nature of the gift is forgotten.

What a gift it would be if we could accept one another for who and what we are and not look to make each other clones of ourselves. I have a feeling that in heaven, there will be a coalition and an angel will proclaim the mighty message, "Vive la difference!"

Ann Dow is a resident of West Deptford.