Meet a Reader

Today’s guest post is from Linsdey Weishar, a longtime friend of Reading Catholic.  Lindsey has been featured both in the “Meet a Reader” feature. She also wrote about Caryll Houselander for the 2014 Lent Book Series.

When it comes to Lent, the image of setting out on a journey is often tied closely to this season. Jesus journeyed into the desert for forty days of prayer, fasting, and uniting himself to God’s will. In contrast to the barren landscape in which he wandered, Jesus’ heart was given the strength to continue his journey even in the midst of heavy temptation.
Setting out on a journey is also the focal point of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring, a book that I’d heard about many times, but never actually sat down and read until this past January. What especially struck me in this story was not merely the journey itself, but the friendship and the continual nourishment of the virtue of hope that made the journey possible.

As he begins his journey to destroy the ring (a ring that has the power to destroy all that is good in Middle-Earth- men, elves, dwarves, hobbits, wizards), a hobbit named Frodo begins his journey with friends. And along the way, they are never without the help they need. I love Frodo’s conversation with one of the woodland elves who, early in the journey, have provided the hobbits with food and a safe place to rest. In speaking about the dangers on the road, Frodo asks Gildor, “But where shall I find courage?…That is what I chiefly need.” Gildor replies, “Courage is found in unlikely places. Be of good hope!”

And Frodo needs this encouragement, for there is much that could push him to despair. He is being pursued by the Black Riders, evil spirits that serve the dark lord, Sauron. They know he has the ring, and want to take it from him. There are other dangers along the road too—a strange forest where shifting trees hide the path, Barrow-wights that attack in the fogs along a particular moor, trolls that try to stop the company from completing their journey.

That friends are necessary to the journey is hit home so many times in this story. At the very beginning of the expedition, Frodo decides that he must make the journey alone—to keep his friends from danger—and prepares to depart in secret during the night. But his hobbit friends surprise him. They care so much about him that they’ve noticed his secrecy and already know most of what he’s keeping secret from them. Merry puts the devotion of their friendship into words:

It all depends on what you want…You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin—to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours—closer than you keep it yourself. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo. Anyway: there it is….We are horribly afraid—but we are coming with you; or following you like hounds (150).

And as the group of hobbits advances further in their journey, they find themselves joined by more friends. Aragorn meets them at the edges of the hobbit-land and helps them reach the Elven land of Rivendell.

And from Rivendell emerges the fellowship of the ring—a group of nine who together will journey with Frodo to help him reach Mordor, the place where he must destroy the ring.

The beauty of this journey is revealed in the gifts each member of the fellowship has to offer. Aragorn knows the trails and a road; the elf, Legolas, is a skilled marksman; Gandalf the Grey (a wizard) has much wisdom. And Frodo is faithful in his commitment to destroying the ring, though its power is tempting.

As we approach the joys of Easter with the reality of the Lenten journey and Jesus’ passion and death still before us, may I remember that this journey is never mine alone. It is a journey being taken by every member of the Body of Christ. The journey may be painful, tiresome, seemingly endless. We may be feeling cold and hungry. Like Frodo, we may carry a burden. But to my emptiness, Jesus promises to bring his fullness.

There is a poem that appears in The Fellowship that also reads like a prayer. Gandalf sends it to Frodo as metaphorical food for the journey. May it nourish us too.

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be the blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

Linsdey Weishar is a recent graduate of the University of Illinois in English Literature, and is currently a teacher’s aide at a high school in Champaign. She is a member of St. Matthew Parish and has participated as a leader in the Peoria Diocese’s Totus Tuus Program for the past two summers. Writing poetry and reading are sources of inspiration for Lindsey, as they help her look at life in different ways.

 

Today’s Lent Book Series offering is a guest review from the patient and gifted writer Gina Vozenilek.  Gina wrote about Flannery O’Connor’s Prayer Journal for the 2014 Lent Book Series, and way back she was highlighted in The Catholic Post in the  “Meet a Reader” feature.  

Easter is still a good way off. Today the sky is colorless and cold and the wind rocks the naked limbs of the trees. I’m glad to be inside sitting in my cozy chair, feet up by the fire. I sip coffee and read about the opposite of my present contentment: suffering.

Who wants to even think about suffering, let alone read a whole book about it?

Does Suffering Make Sense? by Russell Shaw observes how programmed we are as a society to avoid suffering in its many forms: a bad diagnosis, a tragic accident, financial hardship, natural disaster, social injustice, the pain of loss, the fear of dying, the shame of guilt, betrayals and hurts and disappointments as plentiful as the stars in the sky.

It’s not that Shaw is in favor of suffering for its own sake. (He would agree that cancer is bad and to be avoided, if possible, and he would not recommend I quit my comfy chair and go stand outside in the cold).

But Shaw notes that we expend tremendous effort to insulate ourselves and our loved ones from the suffering that inevitably finds us, at one time or another, in one form or another.

Shaw’s book invites us rather to rethink suffering and its redemptive power. He asks, “What use can I make of suffering to become a better person, which for me as a Christian means being more like Christ?”

Drawing on Scripture, papal encyclicals, and other theological writings, Shaw crafts an engrossing discussion of what suffering can offer us if instead of fleeing it—which is ultimately futile—we strive to embrace it as Jesus embraced his Passion.

When we accept suffering—when we bear it patiently, courageously, and lovingly—we suffer with Christ; in doing so, we complete his suffering in his complete body, which is the Church, and we receive in our lives and extend into the lives of others the redeeming value of his suffering.

In a way, Shaw is explaining what it means to offer it up (not that he explicitly uses this phrase). I always wondered what that really meant, and how to do it. This book bolsters understanding of the theological concepts behind that age-old phrase.

I learned a lot more from reading Does Suffering Make Sense? Shaw’s analysis of the betrayals of Judas and Peter is especially interesting. Both men recoiled at the notion that Jesus’ mission should include suffering and humiliating death—with the implication that these would also mark the path of anyone who wanted to follow Jesus.

Ultimately Peter’s faith sustained him even when he could not fully comprehend the meaning of Jesus’ suffering. Although his courage failed him and he faltered in his vocation, his abiding loyalty to the person of Jesus moved him to tears of true contrition.

But Judas lost all faith. “All that was left open to him,” writes Shaw, “was grief’s perversion: despair.”

Does Suffering Make Sense? examines the problems of sin and suffering in the wider world and our own lives. Shaw underscores our individual responsibility to respond actively, not passively, to the suffering we encounter.

He writes, “A very active response is required of us: the effort to cultivate and sustain the disposition of joining our suffering to the suffering of Jesus.” By doing so perhaps we can begin to understand better what it means to enter into Christ’s Passion, a timely reflection as Holy Week approaches.

So who wants to read a whole book about suffering? Does Suffering Make Sense? will appeal to those who seek some deep Lenten reading, the kind you undertake prayerfully with a pencil or a highlighter. It is substantial without being weighty, and although it is about suffering, it is an uplifting and empowering book that will give you new ways to think about the crosses in your own life.

*Gina Pribaz Vozenilek, her husband John, and their four children are members of St. Jude Parish in Peoria. An essayist, her work has won national awards and has appeared in Notre Dame Magazine, Brain, Child, Literal Latte, the Tampa Review, Body and Soul: Narratives of Healing from Ars Medica, and elsewhere.

Gina is the Communications Director for the Jack Pribaz Foundation, a nonprofit group started in 2012 on behalf of her nephew Jack, 5, who is one of the first known cases of a rare genetic epilepsy called KCNQ2 encephalopathy. “Jack’s Army” raises funds for research and helps families connect to find support and information about this emerging condition. By sharing Jack’s story, the Foundation has helped locate more than 90 patients and their families around the globe. Read more atwww.jacksarmy.org.

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Good Reads from Pope Francis’ Bookshelf {Lent Book Series}

March 6, 2015 by Nancy Piccione

This post is part of the 2015 {Lent Book Series}.
Looking for some Lenten spiritual reading inspired by or recommended by Pope Francis?

First, begin with the Holy Father’s Message for Lent 2015. Every year, the pope releases a message for Lent, and it begins and is based on a Scripture verse. This year, the Scripture verse is James 5:8: “Make your hearts firm.” Pope Francis’ theme is overcoming indifference, whether the Church as a whole, parishes or small communities, or individual Christians.

The Lenten messages are always short (this year’s is under 2,000 words—just a few pages) and reader-friendly. It is well worth taking 10-12 minutes to read and reflect on it.

Once you’ve finished that, now you’re ready for some of the Holy Father’s favorite books to jump-start your Lenten journey, here are some of the more familiar titles among his spiritual and literary favorites.

These are taken from the back-of-book page titled, “Bergoglio’s Bookshelf,” at the end of The Great Reformer, Austen Ivereigh’s recent biography of Pope Francis (click the link for my review of that book).  All are easy for readers to obtain at local Catholic bookstores. Some of the “classics” are available as free or almost-free e-books.

The Story of a Soul: The Autobiography of the Little Flower, by St. Therese of Lisieux. Many have read this classic by “The Little Flower,” but it’s worth a careful read any year. Something to ponder as you read or re-read this book: What does it mean that it is one of Pope Francis’ favorite books?

The Lord by Romano Guardini. Perhaps the best-known work of Romano Guardini, an Italian priest and 20th century intellectual giant, it influenced countless priests from the 1940s on, including Pope Francis as a young Jesuit. Another Guardini option is to read the accessible Learning the Virtues: That Lead You to God
a recent Sophia Institute Press re-publication.

If novels are more for you, here are two ideas from Pope Francis’ favorites:
The Betrothed: I Promessi Sposi, Alessandro Manzoni’s 1827 novel that’s the first historical fiction written in Italian. It was a favorite novel of Pope Francis’ grandmother, and he knew of it from a young age. It cover the heroism, holiness, and lack those, in priests and the faithful in 19th century Europe.

Lord of the World by English priest-author Robert Hugh Benson. Lord of the World was written in 1907 as a futuristic end-of-the-world novel. It was a dystopian novel before the genre existed, but with more depth than most of the current crop.

Have you read any of these?  I’ve read Story of a Soul several times, and years ago read Lord of the World after it was suggested by a priest friend, but I don’t remember it at all.  I think I tried to read The Betrothed some years back, but never got any traction on it.  Maybe I need to give it another try.

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