Lucia Silecchia

As I think of Pope Francis’s time here with us, and his celebration of the canonization Mass in our midst, there are many things, some quick snapshots that I will always remember:

The joy of the crowd that grew each minute that the Mass drew closer.

The random meetings with people from so many parts of my life — my parish, my circle of friends, my students, my colleagues, and even my local Dunkin Donuts — all gathered in the same place for the same sacred reason.

The lump that came to my throat when the carillon rang out our joyful expectation.

The remarkable simplicity of the canonization rite.

Hearing “Rejoice in the Lord always …” and realizing that one of my favorite scripture passages, the one I read at my brother’s wedding, was the one I was about to hear proclaimed on yet another special day.

The hymns both familiar and new that praised God in the many ways we strive to capture awe and love in song.

The jubilant laps in the Popemobile and the reverence of the Mass that followed.

The expected smiles of sharing the day with loved ones, and the unexpected tears that came from realizing that there are loved ones with whom I can no longer share great days like this. (Gratefully, tears not captured on the JumboTron.)

And the gift of receiving the Eucharist in that unexplained moment filled with the paradox that the most quiet and intimate moment with God can be in a crowd of thousands.

Were I to write about all these things, this post would be far too long! So, instead, I’ll let the last words be Pope Francis’s. As he prepared to leave the United States, his parting remarks began:

“My days with you have been brief. But they have been days of great grace for me and, I pray, for you too. Please know that as I prepare to leave, I do so with a heart full of gratitude and hope.”

Indeed, his days with us were brief. They were days of great grace for me and, I pray, for you too. As he prepared to leave, I saw him do so with a heart full of gratitude and hope.

— Lucia Silecchia is vice provost for policy, a professor of law at The Catholic University of America’s Columbus School of Law, and director of the International Human Rights Summer Law Program in Rome.

Lucia Silecchia

This spring, I had a chance to think again about Saint John Paul II in a more personal way when I traveled to Wadowice, his hometown, and visited the sites important to his youth. I saw the parish church where he was baptized and the baptismal font where, in his words, “it all began.” I saw the town square where he played with his young friends — many of whom would not see much of adulthood, losing their lives in the death camps or on the battlefields that would quickly engulf their lives. I saw the programs from his high school drama productions, and thought about how different the world would be if he had followed his early ambitions to be a poet or an actor. I saw the photos of the family he lost — a sister he never knew, a beloved mother who died when he was only 9, a brother studying medicine who died treating the ill, and a devoted father who passed from this life before young Karol was ever ordained a priest. I saw the dining hall where his father took him to eat when the two lived alone, and I saw the orphanage run by religious sisters who cared for him as a boy during the times when his father could not. In the interest of historic inquiry, I ate at a few bakeries that each claimed to sell the very crème cakes he enjoyed as a boy, and in the interest of curiosity, I visited the museum devoted to his life.

But, perhaps most intimately, I visited his childhood home. A three-room flat on the second floor of a modest building, there was a simple bedroom he shared with his father, a small kitchen, and a neat sitting room that went unused after the shadow of his mother’s death fell on the home. In those few rooms, he grew up and came to know the God who would sustain him in the many sufferings he knew in youth, the blessed Mother who would comfort him in the trials of his life, and the understanding of what it is to live with fear and hope, with joy and sorrow, with great love and great loss.

This home was located just across an alley from the parish church where Karol and his father would go to Mass each morning. What caught my eye was a large sundial mounted on the side of the church — a sundial now marked with the precise time of Saint John Paul II’s death. Over the sundial was a Polish inscription that read, “Czas Ucieka Wiecznosc Czeka” or, “Time Flies, Eternity Waits.” That made an impression on me, and so, of course, I had to go to the gift shop and buy a picture of the sundial to keep in my office.

“Time Flies, Eternity Waits.” These were words that young Karol would have seen out of his window every day and they are, I think, important words to live by. In a recent talk I gave to a group of lawyers, I mentioned that one of the most frequent replies we give to the question, “How are you?” is “I’m busy.” I’m not sure whether lawyers or Washingtonians are more prone to busy-ness than others, but I do know that it is so easy to get caught up in the things that make time fly. But, perhaps what gave Saint John Paul II the serenity, courage, and fortitude to live the life he did was knowing that in spite of all that makes time fly here on earth, it is eternity that waits — patiently and peacefully. Perhaps that is a reminder in the days ahead to do what is urgent, pressing, and necessary — but not at the expense of those things that are truly important because they point our way toward eternity. I would like to think that now, in the peaceful joy of eternity, Saint John Paul II prays much and often for his busy successor. I would also like to think that as the days leading up to Pope Francis’s visit fly by, that we will find much to remind us of the eternity that awaits us all.

— Lucia Silecchia is a professor of law at The Catholic University of America Columbus School of Law. She also is director of the International Human Rights Summer Law Program in Rome.

Lucia Silecchia

The attention that Pope Francis paid to work is neither surprising nor extraordinary. Much of the modern social teaching of the Church has historic origins in her teachings on work and labor — both on the dignity of work and, more importantly, on the dignity of those who work. In keeping with themes articulated by so many of his predecessors, Pope Francis decries the hardships created by long-term unemployment, the failure to respect the dignity of workers, and those things that foster conflict between work and the nobility of family life.

More personally, however, Pope Francis’s words are an inspirational pep talk before the start of a new school year — when many of us will find work to be challenging, days to be long, and the rush of the semester’s commitments easily overwhelming as the hectic pace of university life swings into full gear.  And, yes, an upcoming papal visit will certainly be keeping many busy at work!

As Pope Francis reminds us, work has a unique beauty, dignity, and value. Indeed, he began his remarks by saying, “In speaking about a serious, honest person, the most beautiful thing that can be said is: ’he or she is a worker.’” High praise indeed from someone who certainly knows what hard work is all about!   However, this positive view of work has deep roots. After all, as Pope Francis points out, Christ himself was identified by his work — “carpenter” and “son of a carpenter” — several times in sacred Scripture.

However, Pope Francis also shared three other insights on the importance of work that are worth reflection.

First, he speaks of work as nothing less than “part of God’s creative plan,” as it affords us a way to “express the dignity of being created in the image of God. … [W]ork is sacred.” There are times when it is easy to see work as a burden. Yet, in the work given to each of us to do lies a unique way in which we can use the gifts and talents that we have been given to play our own role in God’s plan for the world.    There are times when this creative, sacred nature of work is easy to see: when a task is successfully completed, when an exciting initiative is undertaken, or when an unexpected breakthrough in a project comes, it is easy to see the joy in work. At other times, mundane tasks, failed projects, and stress can cloud that vision. So, at the start of a new year, a reminder of the sacred nature of work is an important source of sustenance for those days when the creativity, dignity, and sacredness of work may be in hiding.

Second, he speaks of the importance of work as our contribution to “the common good” and “a great human and social responsibility.” A university is a particularly close-knit community in which the work of each — staff member, student, teacher — is closely intertwined with that of others. Pope Francis thus reminds us that what each of us does in our own corner of the community affects all. It is an opportunity not only to do our own task but to contribute to the good of the whole. More importantly, it is an opportunity to ask what our work contributes to the common good beyond what it contributes to our own growth and our ability to support our families.

Finally, and perhaps most important, Pope Francis speaks of the great tradition:  “Prayer and work can and must be in harmony. … The absence of work damages the spirit, just as the absence of prayer damages practical activity.” He asks us not to see a false dichotomy between prayer and activity but to see them as united — one strengthens the other and one motivates the other. So often, what we bring to prayer are the problems, worries, and joys that we encounter in our work.  So often, the peace and strength found only in prayer makes our work kinder and wiser. As I look at Pope Francis’s schedule for his upcoming trip, I see much time for prayer in his liturgical celebrations and gatherings with religious and clergy  in all the cities he will visit. But, I also see hard work in his visits to governmental leaders and social service organizations. As I look at my own schedule scribbled in my appointment book, the picture may be a little more skewed toward the secular than toward the sacred. In his reminder of the link between work and prayer, Pope Francis reminds us not to neglect either if we do not want work to be “separated from its spiritual qualities.”

As we return to the work of a new academic year, I have much for which to be grateful — labor that I love, a community that I cherish, family and friends who both support my work and encourage me to play, and a work life in which I rarely dread Mondays. But, I also know that in those times when work has its challenges, Pope Francis’s discourse on the value of work also includes the prayer that “God grant us the ability to accept with joy and hope his call, the call to work. ….”   Welcome back!

Lucia Silecchia

I appreciate her reply because I know from happy experience that good, homemade ravioli can be a source of joy! Pope Francis used this recollection to encourage the youthful crowd to look to grandparents for guidance, wisdom and memories — and surprise.

While this charming anecdote was widely reported, most of Pope Francis’s remarks to the youth gathered that day focused more seriously on the Holy Father’s non-gastronomical secret to joy: seeking the peace of God in all things. In his discourse, Pope Francis spoke of the peace of God as the deepest source of his joy, in good times and in bad. He focused on three important aspects of the peace of God:

First, he taught that the deepest, most profound peace is one that only God can give. He asked youth to pray for the grace to discern the peace of God as distinct from other sources of temporary, fleeting peace that do not have divine origin. While these lesser sources of peace may look good and beautiful and bring a temporary sense of happiness, Pope Francis taught that it is only the genuine peace of God that lasts. Indeed, he warned that deceptive or “false” peace often abounds as a temptation, and he urged honest, prayerful discernment as the only way to find the true peace of God.

Second, and unexpectedly, he taught that sometimes the search for the peace of God leads to the cross. This is, indeed, a paradox, but a teaching of great comfort to all who suffer in so many ways. Certainly, the logic of the world would say that peace should be synonymous with freedom from suffering and grief. Yet, Pope Francis warned his audience that this is not always the case. Anyone who has ever done what is right but not easy, just but not popular, honest but not appreciated, loving but heartbreaking, or selfless but unnoticed will understand that there is deep peace in such sacrifices faithfully made. Pope Francis confirmed what they already know: Even in these times of trial and suffering, Christ can and does offer his peace — a genuine, lasting peace.

Third, Pope Francis promised that the peace of God bears the fruit of joy. Not a giddy happiness, or a superficial joie di vivre that depends on fragile emotion or fickle feelings to survive. But, instead, a gioia profonda — a deep, profound, and peaceful joy.

The great value of peace and a proper understanding of it should come as no surprise. During the celebration of Mass, consider how many times “peace” is invoked — “peace to people of good will” in the Gloria; “Be pleased to grant her [the Church] peace” and “advance the peace and salvation of all the world” in the eucharistic prayers; “Peace I leave you, my peace I give you” along with “The peace of the Lord be with you always” and “Let us offer each other the sign of peace” at the Sign of Peace; “grant us peace” during the Agnus Dei; and “go in peace” as we leave. Consider that peace is one of the fruits of the Holy Spirit. Consider that the words of absolution beg not only for God’s pardon, but also for His peace. Consider how the angelic welcome at the birth of Christ heralded “peace to men on whom His favor rests.” Consider how many times during His life, Christ greeted His loved ones with “Peace be with you” or bid them farewell with “Go in peace.” Christ warned that the peace He promises is not “as the world gives” — not a superficial “feel good” peace that is easily won, but the only one that leads to deep joy.

Pope Francis’s words linking peace and joy struck a familiar note for me. Last month, I found a prayer card that moved me so much that I framed it and have it at my desk as a daily reminder about joy and peace. The card bears the words of a prayer from another Francis, Saint Francis De Sales:

Do not look forward to what may happen tomorrow; the same Everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow, and every day. Either He will shield you from suffering, or He will give you unfailing strength to bear it.   Be at peace then, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations. Amen.

I liked this beautiful prayer because it is a call to peace, but not a promise of a blithe and carefree life. In that, it is a realistic, hope-filled call to peace — hard to find, perhaps, but priceless when found.

So “be at peace” … and if you can find good homemade ravioli, enjoy!

— Lucia Silecchia is a professor of law at The Catholic University of America Columbus School of Law. She also is director of the International Human Rights Summer Law Program in Rome.

Lucia Silecchia

Siblings are on my mind as we have recently celebrated the feast day of St. Martha — one of my favorites! St. Martha is certainly the unofficial patron of the busy and the worried, but she is also among the New Testament’s most famous siblings. She squabbled with her sister, mourned her brother, and with them offered Christ friendship and the “many details of hospitality” for which she is so well known. We know little more about this trio except that they were sisters and brother to each other, and beloved friends of Christ.

Pope Francis has spoken often about the relationships between siblings. He himself was the oldest of five children, with two sisters and two brothers. Only one now survives, his youngest sister Maria Elena. When Jorge Bergoglio was elected Pope, a reporter asked Maria Elena whether she felt as though she had lost a brother. She replied, “To tell the truth, it’s more like I’ve gained millions of new brothers and sisters, and I’m trying to figure out how to share my brother with all these new members of the family.”

Last August, Pope Francis shared with the world the news of a tragedy that had befallen his brother’s family: An automobile accident had injured his brother’s son, and killed this nephew’s wife and two sons, one an infant and one a young toddler. As he offered his thanks for prayers and condolences, Pope Francis reminded us, “The Pope has a family too.”

More recently, in his discourses on family life woven through his general audiences this year, Pope Francis devoted an entire audience to the relationships among siblings. He said, “ ‘Brother’ and ‘sister’ are words that Christianity really loves” — and indeed this is true. How many times in liturgical celebrations, in sacred songs, and in religious discourse do we describe bonds of love and affection in these terms?

Pope Francis mourned the account of Cain and Abel’s fratricidal conflict and the ways in which, “when the fraternal relationship is destroyed, when the relationship between siblings is destroyed, the road is open to painful experiences of conflict, of betrayal, of hate.” And yet, he also pointed to the beauty of sibling relationships happily lived, calling these relationships “the great school of freedom and peace,” and observing that “among siblings, human coexistence is learned, how one must live in society.”

In a particular way, he praised the importance of caring for siblings who are weak, noting that “[f]amilial fraternity shines in a special way when we see the care, the patience, the affection that envelop the weakest little brother or sister, sick or physically challenged. There are countless brothers and sisters who do this, throughout the world. … This work of helping among siblings is beautiful.”

And, indeed, it is. The relationship among brothers and sisters is unique. Unlike other relationships, there are few, if any, legal rights and responsibilities that run between siblings. These relationships are not freely chosen and they often involve those who find themselves living vastly different lives far away from each other. Yet, for many, the relationships between sisters and brothers are the longest relationships of their lives. Siblings are those who share our pasts. Our own history is entrusted to our siblings in a way it is entrusted to no one else, as our sisters and brothers share our childhoods, our parents, the homes of our youth, and our memories. If we are lucky, they also share our futures and grow old with us. As my own sister and brother walk life’s path with me, I know that together we hold each other’s past, share each other’s present, and hope for each other’s future.

So, it should be no surprise that when Pope Francis speaks of the bonds among the people of God, he speaks of it as the relationship among siblings. He says, “Having a brother, a sister, who loves you is a deep, precious, irreplaceable experience. Christian fraternity happens in the same way.” This is no mere analogy, but Pope Francis’s prayer and hope that as children who share the same Father, we see each other as sister and brother “because the word and the example of the Lord tell us that we are all brothers and sisters.”

—     Lucia Silecchia is a professor of law at The Catholic University of America Columbus School of Law. She also is director of the International Human Rights Summer Law Program in Rome.

Lucia Silecchia

When I first read Laudato Si’, a line that caught my attention was one unlikely to be much noted because it expresses an idea so universal, yet so simple.  Pope Francis wrote:

“The history of our friendship with God is always linked to particular places which take on an intensely personal meaning; we all remember places, and revisiting those memories does us much good. … [G]oing back to those places is a chance to recover something of [our] true selves.”

This line touched my heart for a deeply personal reason. Laudato Si’ was released the same morning as my Dad’s funeral. I first read it when I returned home from that sacred farewell, and I knew exactly what Pope Francis meant by linking “ [t]he history of our friendship with God” to particular places.

To be with my family, I spent most of this past year in New York. While there, I prayed at the parish church that generations of my family called home — and that my heart still calls home too. My parents married there, I was baptized there, and it has been the scene of my life’s most joyous and sorrowful moments.  It is where I still see my first grade teacher, where people have told me until fairly recently that I have gotten taller (?!), and where neighbors who knew my grandparents come to worship. Within this past year alone, the Pascal candle burned to celebrate our family’s joy at my baby nephew’s baptism, and it burned again to call us to joyful hope of a different kind at my Dad’s funeral. It was at that church that my “history of friendship with God” was born, nourished, and celebrated.

I lived much of this year in the house I grew up in — discussing life and death, knowing joy and sorrow, and saying my last farewell to Dad in the same place I lost my first tooth, built grammar school science fair projects, celebrated dozens of birthdays, typed articles for a high school newspaper (on a real typewriter!), poured over college catalogs, studied for the bar exam, graded students’ papers, and lived the decades of friendships and adventures that make up life. It was in that home that my “history of friendship with God” was lived.

I spent time in other important places back home too, those “particular places which take on an intensely personal meaning” every time they are revisited.

How, you may ask, does this relate to our preparations for a papal Mass here on our campus? In the “history of friendship with God,” special places have always played important roles. While faith tells us that our true home is not of this world, God’s presence is often seen and known in particular places. The Garden of Eden, Mount Sinai, Nazareth, Bethlehem, Galilee, Cana,  the Jordan River, Mount Tabor, Gethsemane, Calvary, Golgotha, and the road to Emmaus — to name but a few — all call to mind important moments in the “history of friendship with God.” For centuries, pilgrims to Jerusalem, Rome, Assisi, Lourdes, Fatima, and Czestochowa have sought out sacred places inextricably intertwined with that history and that friendship.

I hope that for many, this campus is a special place in their “history of friendship with God.” Whether through our sacramental life, academic life, or community life, I hope that for all of us there is a moment — or many — that took place here and that is a landmark in the history of that friendship. On Sept. 23, in the heart of our campus, the successor of St. Peter will be among us. The successor of the fisherman from Galilee who marveled at Mount Tabor, slept at Gethsemane, ran from Calvary, and died a martyr’s death in Rome will celebrate Mass and the very first canonization in America right here in our home. Many wait a lifetime to journey to Rome or plan a pilgrimage hoping to travel to a celebration like the one that we will be privileged to witness. Many never dream of it.

Years from now, when the papal Mass is long over, I hope it will remain for many an important moment in our “history of friendship with God.” I also hope that it is a moment that will be forever linked to this place.

—   Lucia Silecchia is a professor of law at The Catholic University of America Columbus School of Law. She also is director of the International Human Rights Summer Law Program in Rome.

Lucia Silecchia

In 2013, our stay in Rome coincided with the great Feast of Corpus Christi. By Roman tradition, the Pope celebrates Mass at Rome’s cathedral, the Basilica of St. John Lateran, and then processes in a traditional Corpus Christi procession up Via Merulana, a street connecting St. John Lateran with another great basilica of Rome, St. Mary Major. Via Merulana was, literally, the street on which my students and I were living and I looked forward to the chance to see Pope Francis up close. Via Merulana is only about as wide as Michigan Avenue in D.C., and with a spot to stand right at the curb, I was sure that I would get to see Pope Francis much more closely than I ever had in the enormity of St. Peter’s Square.

As the procession got under way, the crowd fell into that blend of reverence and excitement that is unique to Rome. On this occasion, I was surprised that reverence prevailed. But recognizing the sacred events that were unfolding, bystanders like me and the thousands of clergy, religious, and lay people in the procession were more quietly, prayerfully reflective and contemplative than one would ever expect could be possible when so many gathered on a beautiful summer evening in Rome.

After the monstrance holding its sacred contents passed by, the most solemn part of the procession was over and I was certain that the Pope would pass next. And then …. the procession was over, and I had missed him. As it turned out, Pope Francis had walked behind the Blessed Sacrament with a small group of others, and in the crowd I hadn’t even noticed him. I had waited a couple of hours, given up dinnertime in Rome (something no one does lightly!), had a great vantage point … and I missed him.

My initial reaction was great disappointment. But, I had it wrong. I’m not sure that I would have waited so long, prayed with so many strangers, meditated about the great gift of the Eucharist, and shared the joy of pilgrims (both the curious and the devout) if I hadn’t been enticed to come by the possibility of seeing the Pope. If I truly believed what I say I believe, the chance to have seen the Pope should have paled in comparison to the excitement of having been so close to God in the Holy Eucharist — a closeness certainly to be found in Rome, but also to be found in any of our campus chapels, in my parish church, and in the smallest tabernacles in the smallest corner of the world. Yet, there was something about the promise of having a Pope present that drew a crowd together — a crowd of people who otherwise would not have joined together in such prayerful joy.

And maybe that same mystery lies at the heart of a papal visit. The excitement of a visit by the Holy Father and the chance to be with him at Mass here on campus will unite so many of us in prayer and celebration when we otherwise would not be together. Yet, my reminder to myself is that a visit from the Pope — as joyous and privileged as it is — is not the end in itself. Instead, as it was for me in Rome, it is an enticing invitation that beckons us back to God.

– Lucia Silecchia is a professor of law at The Catholic University of America’s Columbus School of Law. She also is director of the International Human Rights Summer Law Program in Rome.

Lucia Silecchia

But, of greater personal interest to me was a series of questions that Pope Francis posed to those gathered at the University — questions that I will reflect on as a teacher preparing for Pope Francis’s visit to our own pontifical university. He asked:

“My question to you, as educators, is this: Do you watch over your students, helping them to develop a critical sense, an open mind capable of caring for today’s world? A spirit capable of seeking new answers to the varied challenges that society sets before humanity today? Are you able to encourage them not to disregard the world around them, what is happening all over? Can you encourage them to do that? To make that possible, you need to take them outside the university lecture hall; their minds need to leave the classroom, their hearts must go out of the classroom. Does our life, with its uncertainties, its mysteries and its questions, find a place in the university curriculum or different academic activities? Do we enable and support a constructive debate which fosters dialogue in the pursuit of a more humane world?… How do we help our young people not to see a university degree as synonymous with higher status, with more money or social prestige? It is not synonymous with that. How can we help make their education a mark of greater responsibility in the face of today’s problems, the needs of the poor, concern for the environment?”

Those are questions harder than any I have ever asked on an exam (my students may dispute that!) and questions that could take a lifetime to answer. They are questions that ask me to think about the heart of my vocation as a teacher, particularly at a university with our own unique mission and identity. All are questions worth pondering, not only in anticipation of our third papal visit, but in anticipation of the start of a new academic year.

This will be the 25th August that I have started a new academic year here. And, yet, the questions Pope Francis posed to my colleagues in Ecuador last week are fresh, new questions for me to pose to myself. In particular, he asks me to think about what I do as a teacher to assist students not merely in preparation for their careers, but in preparation for lives well led. So, in the weeks to come as I prepare both to start a new school year and to welcome Pope Francis to Catholic University, these will be my questions for prayer and reflection.

And, lest you students reading this blog believe Pope Francis had challenges only for us, your teachers, you are out of luck! He posed a question or two for you, as well. And, just as I will be thinking about his questions for educators, I invite you to think of the question he passionately asks you: “Do you realize that this time of study is not only a right, but also a privilege which you have? How many of your friends, known or unknown, would like to have a place in this house but, for various reasons, do not? To what extent do our studies help us and bring us to feel solidarity with them? Ask these questions, dear students.”

Pope Francis has given us all the gift of great questions and here’s hoping that in this exciting time of prayerful preparation and refection, we might be blessed with some answers to these questions as well!

– Lucia Silecchia is a professor of law at The Catholic University of America’s Columbus School of Law. She also is director of the International Human Rights Summer Law Program in Rome.