Ann Rennie Reflects

November is a busy month for many associated with schools. It can be a fraught time with deadlines and reports and inserts for the school magazines and writing references for part-time jobs and remembering to sign off on budgets and do all the administrative minutiae that is part and parcel of the job. 

At the top end of the school the exams are being undertaken and Year 12 students are cramming or revising – or not – and many are ready to leave school and take on the world. They are young adults and are straining to be let off the leash, wear the uniform for the last time and leave school without a backward glance. If we, parents, teachers, the wider community, have done our job over the years, they have everything to look forward to. 

To employ an overused cliché, the world is their oyster. We pray for their success however it is measured, and trust that their formative years have built character and conviction. In the meantime, the teacher has to complete curriculum updates, undergo performance appraisal and find time to talk to those colleagues or students who may need extra attention in the frenzy and fray of this time. 

It is a time to be thankful for those teachers in Catholic schools who have passed on the good deposit of faith (referred to in Paul’s letter to 2 Timothy 1:13) as they have witnessed the gospel in their words and actions during the year. I refer especially to teachers of religious education who persist despite the onslaughts and derision of secularisation. However, I take heart in Pope Francis’ reference to young people as the here and now of the Church. They do things differently, but they are more borderless and more welcoming to the other, just as Jesus was, and that can only be for the good of us all.

Hallowe’en has been captured by commerce and lurid plastic pumpkins glow on suburban porches. I hope I am not being too old and curmudgeonly, but I do worry about imported culture and landfill – and tell my own students so! 

After this, it is a good time to slow down and mindfully celebrate the important feast days of All Saints and All Souls. The Church is made up of the communion of saints, all those holy men and women, named and unknown, acclaimed and anonymous, who have stayed true to the faith and are now at peace in heaven. Some of the saints’ stories are gory and grisly, especially those of the early martyrs. Others are stories of patience and persistence, of quiet heroism or great theological learnedness. 

There are saints who have founded great religious orders or who have travelled to distant lands to evangelise or who have cooked for their community all their lives. There are saints who went to war and saints who died for peace. There are saints who challenged the Church they loved if they felt it fell below the mark or had lost its way. There are saints who were hermits and lived monastic and secluded lives and those who have become more celebrated because of their good works in more public arenas. 

All the saints prayed and all desired to work for the good of the people and the glory of God. They lived out the gospel imperative in their time and place, sometimes in adverse conditions under a repressive regime, occasionally in propitious circumstances where their work could flourish. Perhaps there is a saint with whom you are familiar. It may be the founder of the school’s order or the patron saint of a particular country. 

It may be a patron saint of something obscure and unlikely, like Saint Drogo the patron saint of coffee who was a French hermit long before coffee even found its way to the Continent. For many Melburnians, a prayer of gratitude for the day ahead and a cup of coffee are two ingrained early morning rituals. 

There are saints for almost everything. We all know of St Anthony for the finding of lost things and St Jude, the hope of the hopeless and our own home grown saint, St Mary of the Cross MacKillop. My mother had a particular devotion to St Gerard Majella, the patron saint of mothers, she with her brood of seven. We have Saint Patrick and Saint Francis, St Bridget and St Clare and a roster of Venerables and Blesseds, saints in waiting. 

It is a joy that Papua New Guinea had its first saint canonised on October 19th, a married lay preacher, Peter To Rot, who was martyred by the Japanese in 1945. And there has been much fanfare about the canonisation of the first Millennial Saint Carlo Acutis, the young man who loved computers and died in 2006. Together with Saint Pier Giorgio Frassati, the patron saint of young adults, mountain climbers and skiers, these young men of faith were canonised on September 7th this year. They  are wonderful examples of witness by the young for the young.

Image: Peter To Rot stained image teaching catechism, ©Fr Zdzislaw Mlak SVD in PNG (from Vatican News website)

We know that Saint Paul called his early followers saints, the ordinary men and women who followed the Gospel way in pagan times, at some risk to their lives. We also know of people in our own lives that we might call saints; those who have loved us unconditionally or who have shown great endurance or those whose exploits and example have shown us what the best of loving neighbour can really be like, those who have witnessed how to live a life in Christ. The patience of a saint is also something rare and beautiful!

At end of November, we enter the season of Advent where we prepare for the coming of the Christ Child. In Advent we are waiting and preparing – it is the beginning of the Church’s liturgical year and we are reminded that we should be in a constant state of readiness for the Lord to come again. 

We need to be alert but not alarmed! 

Joseph Ratzinger (Pope Benedict XVI) wrote: Life is a constant Advent season; we are continually waiting to become, to discover, to complete, to fulfil. Hope, struggle, fear, expectation and fulfilment are all part of the Advent experience.

As we come to the close of the year you may well have experienced a number of these emotions. It is a natural part of being human. But, as Christians we live in hope. That hope is born again each year when we celebrate the joy of that first Christmas long ago and acknowledge its profound and resonant echo in our own lives.

By Ann Rennie