Celebrity Fever: Poets and Pope Benedict in Germany

For the last few days (September 22-25), I and various sisters here in Munich have been glued to the TV as Pope Benedict made his third visit to Germany as Pope. My experience of this visit, however, began a week before his arrival. I had a friend from Hungary who was studying in the small but historic town of Jena, in the eastern German state of Thüringen. She would only be there until the end of September, so I was anxious to see her before she left. Now, I knew Jena was famous because the great German poet Friedrich Schiller had lived there. I also knew that the town of Weimar, famous because of the even greater poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, was in the same area. (Goethe is pretty much the German Shakespeare, and these two poets are German classicism, just to give you an idea of how famous they are.) What I didn’t know, however, was that just 45 minutes from Jena was the city of Erfurt, where Martin Luther had been an Augustinian monk. Erfurt was one of the stops on Pope Benedict’s packed itinerary, specifically because of its connection to Luther; ecumenism between Lutherans and Germans is a pretty hot topic in the German Church right now, with the 500^th anniversary of the Reformation coming up in 2017.

So, in all my anxiety to visit my friend, I got very confused as to various dates. She had said that she might be able to get me a ticket to the Pope’s Mass at Erfurt. At first I thought the Mass was on Monday, when I had to work. Then my friend thought it was on Sunday, when she had to leave for Hungary. To make matters worse, she had no internet with which to communicate. Anyway, it ended up that I went to Jena exactly a week before the Pope came to Erfurt. I wasn’t so bothered by this until I realized how close the towns were. Saturday night I stood in front of the Cathedral at Erfurt, looking at the massive altar they were setting up for the Pope, exactly a week too early. Then it hit me how narrowly I’d missed him, and I was quite depressed and angry with myself for a few days.

Now, just hours before all this Pope-craziness took hold of me, I was obsessed with poet-craziness. We looked at Schiller’s garden house, Schiller’s town house, Goethe’s garden house, the botanical garden where Goethe studied, the university where Schiller studied and taught, and even Goethe’s girlfriend’s house. I even paid to see the graves of the pair of them, though I thought this both expensive and overly touristy. It was in Schiller’s garden, though, that something caught my eye and made pause and think about all this madness. Near the gate was a concrete bust of Schiller, painted white but chipped in places, with rain dripping down the graven features. This made me think of the multitude of Greek marble statues I’d seen in various museums, and of how the classicists were crazy about the Greeks—almost idolized them, you could say. I could only think of the Bible verse (Ps. 135: 16-18) that talks about how those who build idols will become like them—mouths but cannot speak, eyes but cannot see etc. Now, I’m not saying these poets were really guilty of idolatry, but it did make me think about the fanatical way in which I was retracing their every step. This was also a warning against making an idol of a famous person, reducing them to one concrete, static image without actually getting to know them, so to speak, or entering into a dialogue with them. Crazy as I was about Schiller, I think I’ve read exactly two poems of his, and the first few lines of one of his plays. Strange as it may be, the moment when Goethe and Schiller seemed most alive to me was when I was standing at their graves, when I remembered that they were real people with eternal souls which could possibly benefit from my prayers. I also began to realize, on the train ride home, that the best way to get to know these poets was to interactively read their works and discuss them with others, seeing what relevance they had for our lives today.

This brings me back to my disappointment at not seeing the Pope in person. I realized that in order to get to know him, I should read his writings, discuss them, learn from them and apply them, instead of just blindly cheering along with the 100,000-person crowd, cool as this would have been. I came away from Jena and from the TV screen bound and determined to read Pope Benedict’s homilies, encyclicals and books, and to think about them, discuss them, and write about them. Then I realized I could do this with the Bible to get to know Jesus better…funny what thought processes a little statue can trigger!

My First Week in Munich

It’s been exactly a week since I arrived in Munich at the Jugendwohnheim St. Ermelinda, a kind of dorm for female students and apprentices, run by the Salesian sisters. I did not have many expectations coming into this experience, but I still managed to be caught off guard a bit. I imagined myself being here for the girls, helping the new ones move in, showing them around etc. Somehow it slipped my mind that I would also be one the “new ones”. For the first few days, all the sisters had to show me how everything worked (not that they’re done with that), and the girls that had already lived here for a few years showed me around the town a little. (Thank goodness for this one very outgoing Polish girl who invited me to join her on several outings, and who can keep a conversation alive!) I was kind of frustrated with this situation—I was there to help them. Then I remembered that I couldn’t be there for the girls nearly as well if I didn’t experience the things they experienced. I had to be the small-town stranger in the big city, staring wide-eyed at the metro plan and fumbling with my map, before I could help the other new girls find their way.

So far my jobs have been great amounts of housecleaning and list typing (both very typically German I think), dish washing, manning the reception desk and locking the doors to the dorm at night. Eventually I hope to do some spiritual activities with the girls, but Bavaria still has vacation, so there aren’t that many people here right now.

I think perhaps one of the hardest things about being here will be convincing myself that it’s actually worth it. I’m still struggling with that feeling that I should have gone to a third world country, especially while hearing about the German VIDES volunteers who went to Zambia and (I think) Venezuela. I almost don’t dare call myself a missionary, having visited a famous art museum (the Alte Pinakotek in Munich) my first weekend here, and being kept awake at night by one measly little mosquito. My relatives over here (of which there are many) seemed to not quite comprehend what I was doing here. Missionary work? We don’t need missionaries…And then I’m almost kind of jealous of all the girls who are studying at the university here, thinking that that could be me right now…Anyway, my consolation is the fact that all this craziness—flying all the way across an ocean to wash dishes for ten months—is for God. If the other girls see that I’m doing what I’m doing for God, then that will be a witness to God’s power and love.

In reading the above paragraph, please do not think that I am overwhelmed with negativity. I am enjoying getting to know the sisters and the girls and the city (and I am doing more than just dishes). It does seem as if the sisters could use a hand. Today one of the girls who’s been here for a while said that the sister more-or-less in charge seemed happier since I’d gotten here. Hopefully she was right. One beneficial thing about being here in Europe is that I will have ten whole months to focus on how to be a missionary, a witness to God’s love, in the same contemporary world that awaits me upon my return home.

Some Thoughts on the Luminous Mysteries of the Rosary

About a month ago, I took on a week-long babysitting job that involved playing with a little girl at her mother’s office. On Thursday morning, this little girl was unusually tired and slept most of the morning. With little else to do, I decided to pass the time by saying a rosary. I’m always excited to realize that it’s Thursday, because the Luminous Mysteries are my favorite. Anyway…sitting on a rolling chair in this cold doctor’s office, it finally hit me why the mystery of the Proclamation of the Kingdom of Heaven is at the center of this group of mysteries. Of all the mysteries of the rosary, I’d always understood this one the least, perhaps because it is one of the most basic mysteries. Jesus’s revelation: “My kingdom does not belong to this world” (Jn. 18:36) shows us that this world that we can see is not all there is. There is something beyond this world. This is such a basic tenet of the Christian faith that I tend to take it for granted. So many people out there, however, do not believe there is anything else out there and therefore do not have the consolation of this wonderful fact of existence.

After this first realization, God then showed me how all of the Luminous Mysteries were related to the Kingdom of Heaven, and that there was a progression in the order of the mysteries. Baptism is our gate of entry into the kingdom—even the King himself went through this gate. The Wedding at Cana is the closest we can get, on the purely human level, to what the Kingdom of Heaven is like. First, it is a time of rejoicing and being reunited with everyone you love, a great celebration and feast, just as I often picture heaven. Second, it celebrates the coming together in marriage of a man and a woman, sexual relations being the best human image of heaven as union with the Beloved, union with God. After the Wedding, the Proclamation of the Kingdom (as mentioned above) takes us beyond the human, earthly level. In the Transfiguration, the disciples get a glimpse of this heavenly glory, seeing Jesus in his full glory as King of heaven and earth. This experience is also a confirmation for the disciples (and for us) that what was announced in the Proclamation is indeed true. Finally, in the Institution of the Eucharist, we have the merging of the two worlds, earth and heaven. The Eucharist is heaven on earth because it is physical and spiritual union with God, as well as union with the entire Mystical Body of Christ, living and deceased. It is not yet the Beatific Vision, but it’s as close as we can get on earth. Within these five mysteries, the Wedding Feast foreshadows the Eucharist, which is even more intimate than any human sexual relation.

Just now in researching the Luminous Mysteries, I came across the apostolic letter with which John Paul II introduced them into the tradition of the rosary, entitled Rosarium Virginis Mariae. I only read over it quickly, but what I did read made me see the rosary in a very new and wonderful way. (I highly recommend this letter, in case you can’t tell.) Anyway, this letter describes the Luminous Mysteries as being especially concerned with the public ministry of Jesus. “Each of these mysteries is a revelation of the Kingdom now present in the very person of Jesus” (21).

Thinking a little more on this, I realized that these mysteries are very closely tied to the sacraments of the Church. Baptism, Matrimony and Eucharist are obvious. The Proclamation, seen as a call to conversion, contains in it the offer of Reconciliation: “This is the time of fulfillment. The Kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the Gospel.” (Mk. 1:15) Finding a parallel sacrament to go with the Transfiguration proved difficult. For now, I’ve settled on the practice of Eucharistic Adoration, which, while it is not one of the seven sacraments, greatly enriches our experience of the sacrament of the Eucharist.

Finally, these five mysteries contain the basic mission of Christ and his Church on earth: caring for God’s people in body and soul. Jesus provided for our physical and emotional human needs by providing the wedding guests with wine. He provides for our spiritual needs in the preaching that accompanies the Proclamation, in baptism and in forgiveness of sins. The Eucharist, of course, nourishes us both physically and spiritually. The Luminous Mysteries show us how to make a reality those familiar words that open the Lord’s Prayer: “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

Works Cited:

John Paul II. Rosarium Virginis Mariae. 2002. http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_paul_ii/apost_letters/documents/hf_jp-ii_apl_20021016_rosarium-virginis-mariae_en.html

The New American Bible. Iowa Falls: World Bible Publishers, 1986.

There and Back Again...The Healthy Way to Read Fantasy

Bilbo Baggins’ title to The Hobbit is “There and Back Again.” It can hardly be coincidence that the title of this prelude to the greatest fantasy epic of our time provides the key to effectively reading the genre that follows after this great story. This title is also reflective of Tolkien’s theory of fantasy and its role in the life of its readers. This theory can be summarized as follows: fantasy should turn our gaze back to our own world, with new eyes more appreciative of the beauty of our world.

I am writing this while still on the post-Harry-Potter-#7-part-2 emotional high—I was itching to get to a computer or a notebook the minute I stepped out of that film. Then I realized that in my flurry to write down my ideas, I was in danger of rendering them empty and meaningless. I had been so moved by the portrayals of love in the film, and yet, in my excitement to write down my feelings, I was forgetting to love those around me. My wild rush to the computer was interrupted by my mom wanting to check her email and my brother wanting to go online for something, and my mad drive to write was interrupted by my sister wanting to play a game with me before (and past) bedtime. So I asked my guardian angel to keep a hold on my thoughts for me while I went to play, somewhat distracted, but not enough so as to prevent my winning the first round of memory. As I hugged my mom and sister good night, I realized that this is what Harry was willing to give his life for. If I didn’t cherish the love of my family and friends, then the film had taught me nothing.

In this last experience, I thank God for giving me the grace to read/watch this story the way I just did: with eyes turned on my own world and more attuned to the riches that lie beneath the surface of everyday actions. It wasn’t always this way for me. In high school I became a huge fan of The Lord of the Rings. (I still am, in case it isn’t obvious from the first paragraph above.) I was in a melancholy state of discontent after finishing the books and watching the films, disappointed that it wasn’t real, and bored with this world because it didn’t have elves. I imagined so many times being magically transported to Middle-Earth and just staying there forever, with one hang-up: no Mass on Sundays. I’d have to take along a priest...or a bishop, so he could ordain new priests once we got there…Anyway, the turning point in the story of my unhealthy desire to fall into another world is this: the realization that Christ died to save this world—this world and no other. If Jesus loved this world (or at least its people) enough to die for it, then who was I to spurn it as boring? Our world took on a whole new value in my eyes upon this realization.

Upon re-reading Tolkien’s On Fairy Stories in college, I found articulated the exact description of my above experience. This function of fairy-stories that Tolkien calls “recovery” involves seeing things as we are meant to see them; cleaning our windows; “so that the things seen clearly may be freed from the drab blur of triteness or familiarity—from possessiveness” (77). Far from causing us to be bored with our own world, the reading of fantasy should restore in us a sense of wonder for the things of this world: “We should meet the centaur and the dragon, and then perhaps suddenly behold, like the ancient shepherds, sheep, and dogs, and horses—and wolves” (77).

Another wonderful example of “there and back again” is Michael Ende’s Neverending Story. (Typing this, I realize the irony—or perhaps the fittingness—of the book’s title.) Bastian is sent to Phantasien so that he can make both that world and his own world whole. He goes to save Phantasien from the nothingness caused by the lack of imagination exercised in his world, but is nearly trapped there by the temptation of a world completely shaped by his own will. He would not be the first to be so trapped. In Phantasien there exists a city known as the Old Emperor City. All of its inhabitants are humans from Bastian’s world (our world) who have lost the will to leave Phantasien, and therefore cannot leave, since the world is determined by their will. All of the people in this city have lost their reason and are occupied with futile, irrational tasks, such as sticking stamps to soap bubbles or digging a hole to bury a burning candle. These people, in wanting to remain in the world shaped by their will rather than return to their own world, have lost the ability (but first the will) to distinguish between fantasy and reality. Tolkien also emphasizes that, rather than confuse fantasy and reality, fairy-stories must take reality as their base. Without a clear knowledge of what is real, there can be no concept of the imaginary. “If men were ever in a state in which they did not want to know or could not perceive truth (facts or evidence), then Fantasy would languish until they were cured. If they ever get into that state (it would not seem at all impossible), Fantasy will perish, and become morbid delusion” (75).

Those of you who are not heroic fantasy aficionados like me probably think that I have made my point to the point of redundancy: you can’t live in a fantasy world forever. For those of you out there, though, who really wish deep down that elves were real and who are reluctant to relegate fantasy to that safe little box of “it’s just make-believe”, I will try to elaborate on one more point. Reading fantasy can help us become more in-tune to the world of invisible realities all around us. Seeing the Gospels as the paradigmatic epic of our own world, we can imbue each moment of reality with so much more meaning. Suddenly, stopping to hold the door and smile at someone becomes a testament to the hidden reality that everyone is loved and valued by God. Praying in front of an abortion clinic becomes like bearing down on the gates of Mordor--or hell--with a flask of starlight, a light of truth. The imagination cultivated by the reading of fantasy will help us picture the guardian angels that are always with us and the city of heaven that awaits us. If we see the Gospel as the greatest (true!) story of all time, in which evil has already been defeated, then evangelization turns into a mission to convince people that this story is indeed reality. There is more to this world than what we can see; fantasy can awake in us the desire for this higher, hidden reality, a desire which is then fulfilled by the Gospel story. Summing up this whole view of fantasy, Aslan the lion reassures Edmund and Lucy at the end of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader that he is will be with them in their own world. “But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia” (270). Truth is truth whether it comes from the lips of elves, angels, or even talking lions. It remains our task as readers to discern the truth in whatever dress it is presented to us and to apply this truth to our own lives.

Works Cited:

Tolkien, J.R.R. “On Fairy Stories” in The Tolkien Reader. New York: Ballantine Books, 1966.

Lewis, C.S. The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. New York: Harper Collins, 1980.

Mission Statement

My name is Stephanie and I am a recent graduate of the University of Dallas, with a BA in Comparative Literature and a BA in German. Currently, I am a lay missionary with VIDES+USA. VIDES stands for Volunteers in Development, Education, Solidarity, and is affiliated with the Daughters of Mary Help of Christians (also known as the Salesian Sisters), a Roman Catholic religious order dedicated to serving youth. From August 2011 to May 2012 I will be working with the youth of Munich, Germany.

In this blog, I hope to share my faith journey as a missionary, in particular as a missionary to the developed worlds of the US and Europe. I first created this blog on the feast of St. Benedict, patron of Europe, and today is the feast of St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (Edith Stein), also a patroness of Europe. I ask these two, as well as St. Francis de Sales (patron of journalists and writers and namesake of the Salesians), to also be patrons of this blog, my humble little effort to share the fruits of my contemplation, as the Dominicans would say.

Part of evangelizing a people is evangelizing their culture. Despite the many negative things that can justifiably be said about contemporary culture, I'm convinced that you can find God in there somewhere, if you look with the right kind of eyes. I intend to look at our culture, particularly in its narrative, dramatic and lyric aspects (i.e. books, film and music), through these eyes of faith. I pray that you who read this will take away some food for thought that will strengthen your love for Christ.