18/02/08 Day of Prayer for Consecrated Life

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DAY OF PRAYER FOR CONSECRATED LIFE 2008
 
Speaking Notes of
Most Rev. Diarmuid Martin
Archbishop of Dublin and Primate of Ireland

———-
Mount Argus, 18th February 2008

Calendar details and the early date of Easter this year, mean that we are
holding our day of prayer for consecrated a little later than the Feast of
the Presentation of the Lord in the Temple.
We have come this evening to reflect together on the theme “Called to
serve”.  It is a celebration which gives me a chance to say thank you to the
male and female religious and consecrated persons in this Archdiocese for
their service within the Church and towards the community.  There are so
many ways in which I can say that the Archdiocese of Dublin would be
impoverished without your service.  This occasion offers me an opportunity
to stress that you play a central part of the family of the diocese.  I
thank God for your witness and for your service.   I can also say on a
personal note that I would never have been a priest without encountering
that witness and that service of religious.
My predecessor Archbishop Daniel Murray was an extraordinary man who began
at the time of Catholic Emancipation the process of calling to Ireland
religious congregations which up until then would not have been able to
minister in Ireland.  At the same time he encouraged new foundations of
orders of men and women in Ireland and he sought to give new life and
vitality to those congregations which had been present here, but in small
numbers, throughout the persecution.

The result of this effort, continued latter by his successor Cardinal
Cullen, was to change the face of Catholic Dublin. Religious congregations
and the names of their Churches and schools and hospitals were to become
household names.  Even today in a changed Dublin it would be hard to find a
taxi man who did not know where Mount Argus is!   And beyond the name, there
was an affection; there was devotion; there was spiritual care and
formation, and of course there were errors and failures.   This diocese owes
an enormous debt to religious, not just for the services which they have
rendered in so many dimensions of Church life, but for what your life and
consecration has meant.

The Gospel reading we have just heard is an appropriate one for this
celebration.  It speaks of the simple elements of salt and light.  Simple
elements, yes, yet we probably miss the point in both cases.

Take salt. We – at least those of us who do not suffer from high blood
pressure – use salt to enhance taste.  And if for health reasons we cannot
use salt we find another taste-enhancer to take its place.  For us then salt
is a welcome enhancement.  We see the Gospel reference to salt as reference
to our Christian lives bringing an enhancement, an added flavour to the
greater entity of human civilization, something which makes civilization
more attractive and without which human civilization would remain bland and
flavourless.

But at the time of Christ salt had a much greater role.  In the era before
refrigeration salt was used to preserve food.  Without salt food would
quickly rot.  And while with time salt might not loose its taste, but it
would become less and less useful in performing its task of conservation and
at that stage nothing could be done to restore its saltiness.

Being “salt of the earth” means then not just being an enhancement, not just
bringing out flavour, but being essential to maintain life, usefulness and
purpose.  Without salt, it is not just that food would be tasteless, it
would rot.

Light means for us illumination.  It means being able to see something.  Any
of you who have lived in continental Europe will have seen cities built on
hills and which can be seen for miles around. The reference to light in the
Gospel is much more specific.  This is about the city of Jerusalem set on a
hill.  It is about the city of Jerusalem to which the people would come to
worship the true God.  It is about the New Jerusalem, God’s people.  It is
about the Church which should be the light of Christ to all nations.

If consecrated life is represented as salt it must be understood not then in
terms of some additional to Church life, but as something essential.   If
consecrated life is to be light, it must shine, enlighten, and have no fear
of the dark.

I mentioned earlier the extraordinary revival of religious life in the
period immediately after Catholic Emancipation.  It is hard to imagine the
cumulative effect of that revival.  In the years since then how many lives
have encountered life and light through your ministry, as it adapted itself
to the changing needs of Irish society?  I congratulate those Congregations
which in these years are celebrating or have celebrated anniversaries of
their foundation or of their coming to Dublin, including our hosts here the
Passionist Fathers in Mount Argus.

Today the situation is different.  In many congregations members are getting
older and vocations are fewer.  Schools and hospitals and caring
institutions which were once under the direct management of religious are
now being run by lay persons.   Reflections and programmes are underway to
ensure a further stage in this transition, namely to ensure that the
original ethos and charism of each religious congregation is carried on by
forms of lay trusteeship throughout the generations to come.  I am happy to
see these efforts and hope that they will bring success.

But religious and consecrated life is more than the ethos of a school or
institution.  It is something vital in itself.  It is something without
which the life of the Church will bear less savour, and without which
something of the freshness of the Church will be lost.

If consecrated life is represented a salt it must be understood not in terms
of something additional, but as something essential.   If consecrated life
is to be light, it must shine, enlighten, and have no fear of the dark.  In
speaking to religious about their current difficulties, I sometimes find
alongside a proper sense of realism, a sense of fatality; a sense that
congregations will die and not be replaced, or at the very most just some
elements of their charism will live on.

Let us not give in so quickly.  Certainly the life of any religious
congregation may be limited in time and linked to particular service and
necessities.  But what would the Church be like without consecrated life?
What are the new ways in which the witness of consecrated lives will prosper
and will be there alongside the many people who are looking for a sense of
meaning in their lives?  The response of religious is not one of sugar or
saccharine, but one of sharing with others something of that salt, that
which maintains and sustains life.  The role of religious is not just that
of pointing to the light of a distant village on a hill, but of being that
light which offers people a point of reference and place of life.

Ethos is important, but ethos can be subjective and individualist.
Consecrated life is also community witness.  There must be ways in which the
charism of each order can be renewed and continued in new forms of community
religious experience.  Indeed people today more than ever  need new
experiences of faith communities which can respond to the flexibility and
vitality which are characteristic of our times.   Think of the role for
example that “third orders” or lay communities embracing the charisms of
religious congregation have played and do play today.

Do not loose heart and hope!  Your founders and foundersesses were
extraordinarily creative and innovative women and men.  You yourselves
probably owe your vocation to other such persons. These were people who
found light and hope even in moments of darkness.

Place your future in the hands of Mary.  No one more than Mary had the
experience of discerning God’s will in the face of so many unknowns and
differing expectations.   Can I suggest that you read the final prayer of
Pope Benedict in his Encyclical on hope Spe Salvi in which he traces in
prayer the journey of Mary as she remained faithful to her Son?

I will just read some excerpts:  “Through you, through your “yes”, the hope
of the ages became reality, entering this world and its history. You bowed
low before the greatness of this task and gave your consent: “Behold, I am
the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (Lk 1:38).
But alongside the joy which, with your Magnificat, you proclaimed in word
and song for all the centuries to hear, you also knew the dark sayings of
the prophets about the suffering of the servant of God in this world.    You
saw the growing power of hostility and rejection which built up around Jesus
until the hour of the Cross, when you had to look upon the Saviour of the
world, the heir of David, the Son of God dying like a failure, exposed to
mockery, between criminals. The sword of sorrow pierced your heart. Did hope
die? Did the world remain definitively without light, and life without
purpose? At that moment, deep down, you probably listened again to the word
spoken by the angel in answer to your fear at the time of the Annunciation:
“Do not be afraid, Mary!” (Lk 1:30). How many times had the Lord, your Son,
said the same thing to his disciples: do not be afraid! “

The challenge of religious life remains today a real challenge for those who
are able to hear the call of the Lord.   Do not be afraid.  The Lord is with
us.  He comes towards us.   Let us answer the call with renewed energy.