Thoughts on the Pilgrimage to Berceau

October 9-14, 2011

The high point, or better, the hinge event of most programs at CIF (our Paris-based “Center of International Formation”) is the week-long trip to Vincent de Paul’s starting point.  Berceau (meaning “cradle”) is the name now given to where Vincent was born to a simple, Gascon Catholic family far, far away from the action of Paris – or from anywhere of significance in those days.    

The trip itself is worth the effort.  This is beautiful land, France’s countryside.  Rolling, green and fertile hills naturally irrigated by rivers and predictable rainfall, trees and hedges dividing one large farm from another.  These are spectacular places to drive through and probably to live in, now that they are connected with the wider world through telephone, electric lines, fine asphalted roads…  I’ve never seen anything like it. 

Still, I find myself marveling how even today it’s a long way from Paris to rural, southwest France (Gascony).  Certainly the City of Lights would have seemed inaccessible to most Gascon country folks back at the turn of the 17^th century.  Vincent, the third child in a large family, early on showed promise, remarkable ambition and drive.  No doubt his dream for a good life for himself was inseparable from what he could eventually do for his family, who clearly encouraged him to move out so as to move up. 

A stay at Berceau would be a rewarding experience for any member of the wide Vincentian Family; the center has been for centuries a popular site for pilgrimage, retreats, study, and rest.  What one sees there is a modest (rebuilt) country house (the inside of which is shown in the photo above) and a multi-centuries old tree -- a kind of living memorial to those years and a tribute to this one young resident.  These are only the beginning, however, of a wider assortment of plaques, stained-glass windows, and other touchstones one can discover in many villages in the area.  Clearly, Gascony has always been proud of as well as inspired by this native son.


But our purpose was to walk where Vincent walked, to get a better sense of those early years.  So we went and looked at places where Vincent studied (Dax, Toulouse…), to the fortress-town where he set his own part-time school (Buzet sur Tarn) earning needed income for his student expenses.  The man certainly got around!  It is over 30 kilometres from his quarters in Toulouse to Buzet, a commute that eventually forced him to move his little school and students to Toulouse.  We celebrated mass where he was ordained subdeacon, deacon, then where he was ordained a priest (Chateau L’Eveque), and finally where he celebrated his first mass (Notre Dame de Grace).

One gets a good sense of the young Vincent dePaul – energetic, tireless, focused, this teenager knows what he wants and gets it.  Ordained a subdeacon at 17, a priest at 19 (likely bending some post-Trent Council reforms…) he had already developed one career as a sought-after tutor and teacher long before he had received his first parish, which certainly meant also his first benefice, his first steady income.

All due admiration aside, Vincent's early trajectory alone would have produced little more than one more successful, hard-driving churchman-businessman.  Much was to happen to Vincent after these early years.  His openness to recognizing God acting within those events and his subsequent choices would transform him to the extraordinary leader, organizational genius, and saint we celebrate today.  Certainly to me, his story has now become as wonderfully fascinating as it is believable. 


Dan Paul Borlik, CM
Paris, France

Let go of the old; let in the new…

For many of my generation (at least) June, July and August equal “summer schedule.”  Things should slow up, lighten up.  Relaxing under some backyard tree with iced tea (or something more interesting) in hand, pondering existence.  That's how I've always imagined summertime.

Not so this past summer!  Ninety days marked by some real hard work, surprises...and changed plans…those months may not have been very relaxing but they have left me breathless!

Instead of mountain hiking in Colorado and a month studying Italian in Florence I found myself giving an enthusiastic yes to Fr. Perry Henry's request that I work in Kenya for two months.  I'd never before been in Africa, much less in Nairobi where American Vincentians had labored in our own seminary for over a decade.  These two months were a marvelous opportunity to see a new world and what we CMs were doing there.  So, really, it was an easy “yes” for me.  I felt as if it was “trading up” for something new, probably very challenging.  Indeed, this has been a summer memorable for new experiences and new friends, and in a word, delightful!  It was refreshing to be among young men preparing for priesthood in a part of the world bursting with new life (along with plenty of old problems!), to be made to feel welcome in unfamiliar surroundings and to be really needed for formation work.  It all worked wonders for my flagging self-esteem, having been without a job for over a year now.... 

Still, during this time I was also startled by Fr. Greg Gay’s request to accept a new assignment to join our International Formation Center (CIF) in Paris.  That conversation has since left me with mixed feelings.  Of course it is exciting to be sent to reside in France, to learn first hand of our Vincentian history, to live at the historic heart of our Congregation, all yes.  To be able to feel free enough to agree to a five-year sojourn in France, well, this too is satisfying.  This will be an adventure!

But demanding too.  That new “yes” implies a series of “no’s” and “good-bye’s” as I leave behind my country, my culture, my comfort zone.  


Packing up 35 years of stuff in two suitcases is excruciating! 


I’m uncomfortably aware now that my life has gotten heavy with all sorts of baggage.  Put in another way, to be truly open to this life and work (truly new to me), I have had to put aside many things: giving away some of them,  discarding a few, letting go of the lot.  


Finally, I find myself mourning what now feels lost or gone:

a promising ministry position I had developed in Santa Barbara, recently renewed family ties and friendships on the West Coast, boxes of books, memorabilia, clothes, ideas, and countless other State-side relationships, routines, expectations and comfortable habits.  Attachments can be felt quite deeply, I'm finding out!





Perhaps it is true that to receive anything really new in our lives each of has to do some letting go -- even some mourning -- of that which can be no longer part of us.  How else could we welcome and hold the new?

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by things you didn't do than by the things you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.

Mark Twain, 1835 - 1910

Yes, you too! Go forth and tell the Good News!

What Catholic could not have mixed feelings about our history as “evangelizers,” particularly when we’re able to now see so many mistakes and damage having been done over the centuries through our missionary efforts.  One has to ask, “What were they thinking?” after finally grasping how unlike Jesus’ style of announcing, healing, and dialogue has been our record as evangelizers.   (Maybe we – especially in the West  -- have always been “results driven.”)  Only recently has the Catholic Church officially respected the complexity of cultures (starting with Evangelii Nuntiandi) when teaching about how we are to go to bring the Good News to all the nations.

For me 1983 was both the most miserable and delightfully satisfying year I’ve experienced as an evangelizer.  It was in the Peten, northern Guatemala and I was really a beginner, and knew it.  Bishop Jorge Mario Ávila had recently entrusted me with the care of more than 30 faith communities, but with the proviso that I be pastor of a parish that no one wanted, San Andrés.  Decades of unresolved conflicts, scandal after scandal, broken and ruined marriages, most everyone co-opted in some way in crimes and misdemeanors… it was a desperate, hate-filled and hopeless community.  Previous pastors (and very competent Burgos missioners, by the way) had “given up” on that parish, even refusing communion to them at Sunday mass!

Of course, after two years practicing my primitive Spanish and just beginning to set up catequist recruiting and training (this was our primary work), I knew one thing:  I was in no way qualified to understand these issues, to address them, nor especially to help the people resolve them.  So I did the very, very little that I could:  preach about the Prodigal Son (and a dozen other Gospel healing/reconciliation stories) and … well, a lot of serious praying..

After six months of visits to San Andrés, without much change in mass attendance or participation, the couple elders asked for a meeting with me.  It was then that a group of six men and women presented themselves ready -- they wanted to receive certification (training) as catechists; their only condition was that they be missioners to other communities.  I had my doubts but finally agreed.

As soon training ended all of them were busy visiting some of the remote villages and coming back with great stories.  More suprisingly, their experience – at first only in places distant from their community – attracted a dozen more who “wanted to evangelize too!”   Within two years, San Andres had become our area’s banner community not only for missionary catequists but for musicians, youth ministers, and a variety of other services, even for their own(!).  All this, even while they continued to stuggle as the same sinners with the same problems as before, something they themselves insisted on declaring during our retreats!  Now, however, they were experiencing God’s presence, His healing and forgiveness…and talking about it to anyone who would listen.

Surely as baptized Christians we have been told that we are evangelizers, that this is not a specialist thing, just for bishops, priests, deacons and so on... All the more strange that many of us priests or missioners are reluctant to evangelize!  Most likely we simply don’t believe it, or we feel incompetent, so we avoid it!  There’s always good reasons, too.  It’s hard to do “kingdom talk” when it’s God’s own mysterious plan and not our own kingdom we’re talking about.  We’d rather correct behaviors, or talk about making the medium (internet, mass media, etc) more effective, or make sure we get our legal and philosophical (and cultural) baggage accurate and updated (read ‘politically correct’) before any preaching and teaching.  Better yet, we might substitute social work or church/school construction for evangelization.  After all, these are good things, aren’t they? and people seem grateful for them, and there’s always people who want to help us do these practical, helpful things.   So we tend to concentrate on becoming professionals (a good thing) in every area of our work …except in that one area.

But stalling just begs the nature of our call to evangelize.  “ The Kingdom of God is NOW!”  and it ignores the call to be evangelizers, especially as members of the Congregation of the Mission.  Is any of this what Jesus had in mind, when he commanded, “come, follow me!” ?

Evangelization is not about us making the world a better place, as worthwhile as that obviously is.  Rather, it’s about learning how to recognize God healing and transforming the world, and helping God do it.  Besides living by the faith we claim we have, evangelizing pushes us out there, among the people, announcing the Good News (articulating it as well as living it), nurturing the Kingdom of God where we see it sprout up, getting caught up on Somebody Else’s agenda. 

Those sinners at San Andrés were a remarkable surprise to us Petén missioners.  They heard that call and understood what evangelizing meant: to share our deepest hopes and faith and to invite others to transformation.  I suppose that in struggling to recognize and share God's transforming grace, we are being transformed ourselves.

This business of being faithful disciples of Jesus, well it’s probably not what most of us would think it was or should be.  As much as we Christians would like to think of ourselves as obedient to Jesus’ words, and as hard we sometimes try to be, we really don’t listen most of the time.  When we listen we don’t understand.  When, after much thinking and planning, we think we’re doing the right thing we find out, usually someone finds out for us, that it was somehow wrong... or right despite our diligent efforts rather than because of them. 

Perhaps that two-steps-forward-one-step-back routine shouldn’t worry us though.  We’re in good company.  Apparently that die was cast for all of us with the very first choices Jesus made for his disciples (the twelve), who were for the most part an uncomprehending, divided (even competitive) group of misfits.
To their credit, however, they placed their wounded hearts in the right hands.  So should we.

DPB (Mallet, Louisiana mission appeal reflections, July 2010)

Reflections from Spain: #1

With a little help from my friends…

To the day I now have lived three months away from home in the United States, and three months in the homes of Spanish Vincentian priests and brothers. I’ve lived mostly in Zaragoza, but also visited Madrid, Ávila, Valencia, and Lisbon (Portugal).  There were also those short stays in places not so well known, at least outside of Spain, such as Baracaldo, Pamplona, Teruel, and Valladolid. No matter where it's been, I’ve always felt welcome as a guest and often invited to help with the driving to get there, a real treat in itself.
Since this was my own homemade version of an overseas sabbatical it’s fair , at the end of its "first chapter," to ask, to what end?  What were the goals? Were my investments of time and resources, particularly those of the Congregation, productive?

Well...

1) I wanted to improve my Spanish skills (listening, reading, speaking and writing); there’s clearly some improvement, mostly in comprehension but also noticeably in the speaking and writing areas. Of course there's no more effective way than immersion to improve language skills -- even during those times when the experience might be a bit rattling and isolating;

2) I wanted to perceive the world and the church through the eyes of my Vincentian and Daughter of Charity friends, as well as those of the priests and seminarians at the Zaragoza Theology Center (CRETA).  They were very obliging with heartfelt opinions (just say the word "Zapatero" to any confrere and hear the fireworks!), good stories, examples of their own struggles and expression of their hopes.  Clearly, the Spanish Church is going through a unique period in its history as is all of 21st century Europe.  This is a painful and uncertain time, but there are promising signs of new life as well.

3) Given that much of my teaching and preaching ministry has been and hopefully will be with Spanish-speaking immigrants in my country, I hoped for an updating in theology and Sacred Scripture.  I was particularly interested in how to think, reflect, and formulate ideas in Spanish. For the most part I listened, which was work enough!  Thanks to the faculty and courses at CRETA, I have boxes of books and notes now on their way to Dallas, and lots of fresh insights dancing around in my head.  For all that am more than grateful.  It's safe to say that updating here was well worth the effort, even if, as an auditor, I was excused from exams(!).

I’ve also spent a lot of time by myself, doing what I explain to myself (and others) as resting, but I’d be more honest if I’d describe most of this “down time” as endlessly mulling over mixed feelings about the past and anxieties about the future. (The shadow side of life as an introvert).  In fact, were it not for the sincere interest of confreres, I may have remained more-or-less safe in my own little world but certainly would have learned little to nothing during these months. Once their provincial (Juan Julián) had invited me into their homes the members included me in their conversations and celebrations, and even on occasion in their ministry. Hospitality, a virtue as essential today as it was in Biblical times, is alive and well in the Congregation. The confreres who met me at the airport, who showed me how to use the Metro in Madrid and the bus system in Zaragoza, the men who made sure I didn’t miss a meal or a community event, the confreres and sisters who took the time to explain a joke (at great risk of ruining it, of course!) or coached me on the latest street expressions (modismos españoles), and even those who corrected my grammar and pronunciation, all of this took effort and interest in their guest. Indeed, I noticed moments when they quietly took pride in my progress, as well they should!  In the end. for me, simply having a place to stay and people with whom to share table and conversation, dissipated much of the strangeness of living in a strange land.

Some years ago the then Provincial Visitor of Zaragoza, Corpus Delgado, proactively campaigned to welcome any confrere who wanted to study Spanish, to know that he would be welcome here in the Zaragoza Province. He meant it and so does his successor, Juan Julián D. Catalán. Today, the province has confreres from places as far away as India and the United States, to Slovakia and Rumania, all here to study, to work for awhile, to earn a degree, to live in community. In this respect this province has become a marvelous example of a new and healthy internationalism in our Congregation.  I can only hope that more of us take advantage of their invitation. 

So I thank the men of the Zaragoza Province for taking me in and helping me feel welcome in their homes. Muchísimas gracias, mis cohermanos! Espero veros un día en mi país y alreadedor de mi mesa, donde mi casa también será vuestra casa!

DPB

The Mystery of Pentecost: being vulnerable?

Pentecost Sunday, May 23, 2010

The great feast of Pentecost, yes, it’s a mystery. So, what to do with it?

It seems to me that all great Christian feasts, those we really do try to celebrate, still tend to remain  "just a mystery" to us.  And if we are honest about it, a mystery will always tend to raise more questions than resolve doubts or silence debates. Sure, it's good to want to understand more, but a mystery is not that rational!  Not unlike the Mystery of our salvation (we proclaim it at every Eucharist-- Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again!).  Mysteries are both central to our faith journey and also really tough to explain, (perhaps to explain away?) even with nice, clearly stated dogmas.

I think that we are meant to soak up the mystery, to enter into it with trust and openness, to let the mysterious event grab hold of us…  The Virgin birth (Immaculate Conception), Christmas, Easter, the Ascension, and now Pentecost, each is such a mystery. With these we do better when we're able to sit with them, to be more contemplative, mystical about what they mean, no? 

So, what about this mystery, the feast of Pentecost, the birthday of Jesus’ Church? What are we celebrating, or at least wanting to celebrate?

Some may discount the Scriptural narrative or even dismiss it as “non-historical” (who knows exactly what happened, especially two millennia ago?) but that misses the point of mystery anyway. (Note:  their time is not chronological, not really.)  Like the other events we celebrate annually as Jesus’ disciples, Pentecost can provide a lens through which we might recognize God is working among us today, now. A great deal depends on how we interpret the narrative, of course.

Fr. Ron Rolheiser (in The Restless Heart, p. 78) says that Acts 2, the first reading today, parallels the story of the Tower of Babel, a wisdom story easily and often misinterpreted. Instead of being about sinful pride and its downfall, the Tower of Babel is a story about the causes of human loneliness. These people were not arrogantly defying or challenging God; they just wanted to make an impression on others – ‘let’s make a name for ourselves.’  The evil here is refusing to be vulnerable before others, and choosing instead to build an edifice to impress them. Rolheiser reminds us that it’s only when we are vulnerable with each other that we “provide space” for meeting each other and find ourselves "speaking the same language."  (Do not today’s twelve-step groups and some faith sharing groups already experience that very same intimacy and togetherness? ) 
In this case it is highly significant that Luke’s account in Acts 2 describes the reversal of the damage done at Babel:

They were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to speak foreign languages as the Spirit gave them the gift of speech.

It’s for this very reason that the Spirit came in the first place, to heal the chasm between us.

If living outside of my native country, and struggling to enter into another’s culture and learning a new language has taught me anything over the past years, it is that the Tower of Babel continues today.  It might well be considered today's context out of which the Church must spring to life.  Indeed, our so called Information Age has successfully facilitated the very things we are warned away from in that wisdom story:  appearances meant only to impress others and bring the individual advantage, our propensity to measure and rate ourselves economically and often at the expense of each other (or nation versus nation).  Such things must be important -- they always show up somewhere in our international headlines.  Meanwhile, in our busy societies, joy and gratitude are too often fleeting,  missed, or just not that interesting. 

Misunderstanding and loneliness are alive and well! Indeed, they are more common (perhaps more natural to us?) than vulnerability, mutual trust, and common understanding. These latter happen only if we are open to what has to be God’s grace, a gift. But then, why would we not be open to it?

Simon Peter, James, John and the rest of them -- they had learned much from Jesus.  They also  knew themselves to be sinners; weak, shadowy creatures who had always had Jesus around to pick them up, joke with them, forgive them, love them... and believe in them.  Now, facing deep longing and frightening emptiness,  a fearful condition that could have shut them down, they realized they could not long endure such a life after Jesus’ Ascension.  This was not what Jesus had promised them, but rather His mysterious Paraclete -- their Advocate and Consoler. 

And then something, Someone wonderful happened along, like a great wind and inexhaustible flames!

More to the point, had they not been healed of those things that drive people apart -- mistrust of self and each other, longing to deny and escape failures and sin, needing to make an impression -- well, these exceptionally ordinary men and women would never have been convincing evangelizers, i.e. Good-News-People.

So, the mystery of Pentecost, that event brought on by our very own Advocate, happened just when the early followers were most vulnerable; only then could they be enabled to celebrate and live as free men and women.  Now, that truly was a new day, a fresh beginning! 

Just as Pentecost gave birth to the living Body of Christ for our ancestors in faith some two millenia ago, may it be the same for us today! 

Veni, creator Spiritus!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5b_BYA3P6U

DPB

Portugal: minha visita curta lá de 24 -- 29 abril

Well, I confess.  I kind of hate being a tourist.  A bit late to acknowledge this, thousands of miles away from home.  More precisely, I have grown very cautious about travel and touring. 

What? you ask.  Am I nuts? 

I know, I know -- a sabbatical is a great privilege, something few people get to enjoy, once or twice in their lifetime, if at all.  And I'm not complaining, well, not exactly, since I am also very grateful for these months, especially in Europe.  So, let me explain. 

Inevitably the first comment (and a very understandable response) from friends and family whenever the subject of my upcoming sabbatical came up was something like, "You lucky guy -- you get to travel!"   True, travel is a wonderful opportunity.  Flying today,  in a matter of a few hours places one in someone else's world and time.   What better way is there to break out of tiresome routines, to see exotic places and meet fascinating people? 

However, it's also true, that in our times of so much and such convenient travel, we now have to brace ourselves for its pitfalls such as endless "hurry-up-then-wait" airport routines that are neither enjoyable nor instructive.  Indeed, travelling outside one's own comfort zone can be as tiresome and dissipating as any other modern stressor.  I can understand why, perhaps both for self-protection and in order to feel more efficient at some tasks, many travelers choose simply to stay in their own cultural bubble while "away from home," actually seeing very little of another's world and understanding practically nothing except what is already familiar.

For me, the past eight years of Congregational leadership included more zipping about our country and around the globe than I could have ever imagined.  Gradually the travel itself began to get the better of me.  As a result, flying across time zones and between hemispheres now holds little appeal for me.  Perhaps for the same reason, neither does touring while traveling, especially where I don't speak the language at all.  In any case, during sabbatical, I have intentionally avoided seeing too much too quickly.  Until now.

Tossing all that reserve and caution to the wind, I joined up with Bill P -- Vincentian confrere, friend, and a seasoned, smart international traveler by the way -- in Madrid for a few days (that's himself on the right at the Zaragoza Province's guest house in central Madrid), and then for five very full days in Portugal.   We arranged our stay with our confreres there, the Padres Vicentinos of the Province of Portugal, who emailed us that they were delighted to have us as their guests. 

After our 50 minute EasyJet flight from Madrid to Lisboa, the first thing we learned about Lisboa is that practically no one speaks English or Spanish (tourist pamphlets notwithstanding), at least not our version of either!  The second thing was that one short city block in old Lisbon -- as well as in may other villages of Portugal -- can be either horizonal or vertical.   I suppose it did our hearts and legs good, all that climbing!  Arriving a Lisboa at around 715 in the morning (time-zone change) we immediately set about finding our confreres, since we knew they were somewhere nearby, only a few blocks away in fact, we had a map of sorts and four or five Portuguese phrases to help with directions.  The CM Provincial headquarters (Rua do Século, 152) are located in a multi-storied, rambling but nondescript residence well hidden in a historic Lisboa neighborhood, the Alto Barrio, "just a few blocks" from the even more historic city's market place.  It seemed simple enough.  About three hours later we succeeded, panting, drenched with sweat, and ready for the midday meal.  Nothing has ever tasted better.

Bill and I had earlier agreed to allow enough time apart on our own while sharing a few definite, limited goals in Portugal: for example, a visit to the shrine at Fatima, to spend some time with the confreres, to get a taste of life in this beautiful and historic country, to share suppers and impressions and so on.

We did our own exploring, particularly old, traditional Lísboa.  But even with locals helping us as much as they could (without English or Spanish, remember...) just finding our way to local must-sees, such as the Castehlo San Jorge (the city's oldest castle, just another few blocks away...) and for a Sunday mass were to be our most challenging adventures.  Two days later, of course, things got a lot easier.

Fatima, less than an hour away from the captal, would be packed in a week for Pope Benedict's visit, but was quiet and rather empty during our morning visit.  For us, the 90 minute pilgrimage was enough for quiet prayer and plenty of photos.  In fact, Fatima was only one stop in a trip that was well-planned, beginning and ending at old Lisboa's Plaça Restauradores.  Our tour-guide, John, spoke excellent English; much of our nine hours together had him narrating local history for us and pointing out notable places.  The day was filled with stop-and-go experiences:  magnificent Atlantic coastal vistas, the famous Batahla monastery (still unfinished), a fresh seafood lunch at Nazarét (a fishing village), an hour to explore Óbidos (an ancient, multi-cultural, walled city), and other nearby places popular with studients and tourists. 

Those five days were enjoyable, our time well spent whether together or apart.  Of course, each visitor will have his/her favorite things:  I became expert on the use of Lisboa's fabulous METRO, for instance and tried about four versions of Portugal''s most famous fish dish: Bacalao (Bak-a-LAH-oh -- dried, salted, rehydrated cod that's prepared usually with vegetables) is quite good.  Actually Portuguese beers and wines (and especially their portos) are great too, before, during and even in between luch and supper. 

I also heard, for the first time, a bit of Portugal's incomparable music, particularly the fado.  It's a form of ballad that is characteristically sad, filled with longing and feeling (matching my mood when traveling?).  One song, Coimbra, made popular in the last century by Amália Rodrigues (1920-1999), is still widely sung and will seem familiar from Hollywood movies past and tourism promotion.  The first link below is to a youtube recording of Amália singing about this ancient, mythical center of Portugal, Coimbra é uma lição, De sonho e tradição; (Coimbra is a lesson of dream and tradition...) along with some slides of the country:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tmGDOTCYaIk&feature=related

 

A more contemporary artist of the fado, as well as of other Portuguese music,  is Mariza:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XQrq7nLPHEw&feature=related

So, what will I remember and treasure from this "time away" from my studies in Zaragoza?  Great memories of our brother Vincentians' hospitality there (muitas gracias, obrigado!), good food and drink, a surprising introduction to pre-Iberian kingdom history of the peninsula, and music than can touch the heart, even that of a jaded tourist.  In the end I found that Portugal is not only worth another visit but maybe even worth the struggle to learn another lanugage. 

Yes, and life as a tourist can actually be wonderful!  (well, sometimes!)

DPB

CM History: to Whom It May Concern...

2010 Coloquio de historiadores en Zaragoza (Historian Colloquium in Zaragoza)

This weekend has been dedicated to a DC-CM historians’ colloquium sponsored by the Zaragoza Province. Normally a quiet, rather empty place, the Casa Provincial today resounds with conversation, laughter, friendly shouting matches, and life.  Juan Julian D. Catalán welcomes the steady stream of guests, Jaime Corera facilitates the sessions attended by some 17 or so historians, both CMs and DCs, many with presentations to deliver. It’s not a bad turnout from four Spanish CM provinces and nine DC provinces.

I asked to sit in on two afternoon sessions. There were three presentations, about an hour each: first from Teodoro Barquín, then John Rybolt, and  finally from (Sr.) Carmen Hernandez. The talks seemed  "compressed".  As more than one participant commented, the subject matter was vast,  although "limited" to Spanish CM and DC 19th century provincial history (ranging from suppression due to changing governments, to struggles between Spanish CMs/ DCs and Fr. Etienne's leadership, to the dynamic relationship between DCs and CMs, to spectacular growth in numbers and new houses..).  It could easily have filled a week-long colloquium (especially if it were not limited to what has actually been written and published!).

Now with two months of conversations and new friends here I know that our Spanish confreres (and sisters) feel as passionately about their history as about their futbol teams (well…close).  Although not a member of this club, I felt welcomed today and appreciated being able to listen in, which, even with my re-tuned Spanish, was not always easy! Within a couple hours, however, I could only marvel at the barely restrained energy in the room, especially after the heavy afternoon comida! Their enthusiasm and commitment during the sharing, exchanges and discussions (which could be arduous at times, needing Jaime Corera to referee), well, all that made sense to me. But what about the endless hours spent, (mostly alone) doing research and writing draft after draft in preparation for these few hours? 

More to the point, from a marketplace perspective (I'm a bit embarrassed to add), who reads this kind of stuff today?  How many of us – Daughters and CMs -- actually study these publications?

Is it – our history – really worth the effort?

For some the answer will be, of course, a resounding YES!  This colloquium overflows with believers in history who have spent their lives developing and perfecting the difficult, often lonely disciplines of writing, translating and commenting on others’ writing. In our two United States provinces we have our own dedicated and professional historians as well, happily more organized than ever.

But what about the rest of us? We who are the “field workers” such as pastors, preachers, seminary and university instructors, formators, administrators, the growing number of Vincentian Family collaborators... we people who already are busy enough, thank you very much?

Personally, I’m fascinated by history, especially that of our Congregation (although it’s taken me a few decades to develop a taste for it). But I’m also overwhelmed by the endlessly growing mountain of information that needs to be sorted out, interpreted, prioritized, contextualized, and – especially in our times, discarded.  Like any good research, such critical, tedious work is necessary to develop a narrative that is instructive, compelling, and in some real way worthwhile to the present generation and (hopefully) to those who follow us.  But there’s something more critical here particularly during times, like ours, of rapid, even violent change. Certainly (hopefully?) church leaders worldwide today are learning some valuable lessons from past mistakes:  whether remaining passive while ignoring events (both present and past), or reactive and just plain shoddy in our interpretation of these events is dangerously irresponsible and can lead to ruin.

Bob Maloney, one former Superior General, has said:

“Knowing its history enables a Congregation to understand who it is, what its mission in the Church is, what its strengths and weaknesses have been over the centuries, how it got where it is right now and where it might go in the future. A group that knows its history well knows, in seed, its future.”

The need is clear. Increasingly, the Congregation encourages us to develop into amateur historians (as well as theologians, mystics, and poets!) through programs such as CIF, seminars in or outside our community, prioritized values in provincial and house plans, on and on. (Not to mention, sabbaticals such as mine!) The invitation to know ourselves more deeply and responsibly is open and constant. For each of us, then, it’s a matter of choosing, of making time for history.

Or, as we Americans (famous for looking forward, rather than backward) might quip,

"history is, in the end, all about the future!"


DPB