Election Aftermath

“It’s very sad for the world; it’s very sad for humanity; it’s frightening.” So said my next door neighbor George, as we commiserated together the morning after the election. I consider this friend a sound judge of world events. He knows from personal experience what can happen to the people of the world when unwise leaders gain power.

Had John Kerry won the presidency, I would have been astonished but happy. The actual results appall me and plunge my spirits down to a new level of pessimism about our American future.

Once again, Lincoln (or whoever suggested the moral) needs to be amended: You can fool most of the people most of the time

For a challenger with serious weaknesses, Kerry did remarkably well. He had the disadvantage of having supported a misbegotten war, and then, to compound his error, he foolishly stated that he would have voted the same way all over again.

In response to inquiries from friends from other parts of the country, I always told them that I did not know anyone in Massachusetts who much liked Kerry. Though he revealed new facets of his personality during the long campaign, he remains a man who does not generate much warmth, certainly not to people in vast swathes of the country.

My pessimism about the future finds grounding in the record of George W. Bush’s last four years. His leadership, so widely admired in many parts of this country, strikes me as badly flawed and dependent on propaganda to look effective. His jettisoning a policy of deterrence and containment in favor of waging war against Iraq will surely rate always as a terrible blunder.

Never did I imagine that I would enter into old age with a federal government in Washington dominated by Republicans. The prospect of at least another four years with the current ideals of their party holding sway makes me dread the future, at least as it is determined by politics.

It seems like a return to the political condition of this country at my birth. In 1928, the GOP dominated American political life. Coolidge was president, followed by Herbert Hoover, chief executives who showed themselves incapable of anticipating or, in Hoover’s instance, dealing with the Depression that was to begin in 1929.

Of course, I am not such a zealot as to disapprove of Republicans per se. The tradition that we had earlier in Massachusetts history made me appreciate many who professed allegiance to the GOP. Such fine public servants as Leverett Saltonstall, Henry Cabot Lodge, and John Volpe served the commonwealth and the nation well and deserved the many votes received from Democrats.

But so-called liberal Republicans like these leaders have given way to narrow zealots like Newt Gingrich, the former House speaker, and now Tom DeLay whose agendas prefer political advantage over the common good. By contrast with the men cited above, the professed ideals of these men have been often been hypocritically contradicted by their actions.

Many of the elected leaders of the current Republican party bring values to American life that I cannot identify with. Centrally, their attitudes toward wealth and poverty especially alienate me, and we will now surely witness the phenomenon of an increasing gap between rich and poor.

Ironically, however, I do identify with many of the values that endear George W. Bush to so many Americans, especially those who vote in the Red States.

Religion stands out for me too as a precious part of my life. I believe in prayer and practice it regularly. My religious life oriented toward a parish church remains vital to me, as does my association with a community of faith. Though I consider the separation of church and state a principle vital to the nation, I welcome recognition of various religious traditions in American life.

I consider abortion an evil that the nation should try to discourage. To me, efforts to support women who choose to give birth rather than to abort are important. I also feel some wariness about stem cell research, partly because my ignorance of the subject is so far reaching.

Of course, there are many other values dear to many Americans of faith that I cannot approve. Much of the opposition to gay marriage, for instance, strikes me as coming from prejudice that seems unloving. Various forms of what is called patriotism stir in me feelings of alienation. What is done to the American flag, for instance, is not deserving of a constitutional amendment. And I consider campaigns against the teaching of evolution to be downright silly.

I also feel wary about the kind of religion followed by many of Bush’s most fervent supporters.

Religious enthusiasm has a long history of causing trouble to the body politic; piety, though it seems inoffensive, can actually prove destructive if not paired with wisdom.

Many world leaders felt wary of Bush being elected president. His militancy and American Firstism had alienated them and made them apprehensive about a newly empowered president who can now impose his policies with only ineffective opposition at home.

I feel concern about our environment at the hands of a man whose first allegiance seems to be economic advantage rather than care for our natural heritage. Similarly, precious little suggests that Bush will cut our dependence on foreign oil with its potential for further violence.

Chances for a radical revision of the Medicare prescription drug benefit now seem much diminished by the Republican dominance in both the White House and the Congress. Almost surely we elders will be treated to the spectacle of the medical and insurance.

Richard Griffin

Writing for Action

Walking by a neighbor’s house late Tuesday afternoon last week, I came across a group of lively older women just emerging. What they had been in Yvonne’s home I guessed: they were the people who meet every week in order to write letters to public of-ficials, newspapers, and other agencies.

They’ve been doing it since 1983, sixteen straight years of public-spirited action. From the beginning they had the good sense to keep a record of their proceedings. Some of their minutes have been donated to the Schlesinger Library at Radcliffe.

How have they managed to keep going for so long? “We have a good time,” says Yvonne Pappenheim. Of the other members, she says, “They all feel it’s their thing.”   They are not intimates, yet they feel a strong sense of camaraderie and they trust one another.

By now, they are eight in number, and range from 70 to 93 years of age. In an-swer to my question about what they had done that afternoon, one of their number told me they were writing about campaign finance reform.

Members of the group currently include the following: Evelyn Brew, Margaret Brown, Mildred Allen Reis, Marion Billings, Nancy Delaiti, Yvonne Pappenheim, Helen Grumman and Ruth Weizenbaum. Of these, the first six live in Cambridge, while Ms. Grummen is a resident of Newton and Ms. Weizenbaum comes from Concord.

Two members are legally blind but they stay well-informed through listening to the radio. The group follows the same routine each week. At three on Tuesday afternoon they gather and sit in the hostess’s living room discussing the issues for about an hour. Then, after coffee and cookies, they sit around the dining room table and prepare to write.  

Each person writes whatever she chooses. On occasion they will all sign one common letter. Most of the time, however, they write as individuals. It also happens sometimes that nothing gets written.

Their convener and usually the hostess, Yvonne Pappenheim, explains: “Some-times things get confusing and we don’t write anything.” But this seems not to discourage them; they simply wait till the next time.

I admire them, however far their effectiveness extends. That they do it at all stirs my respect. They resist the temptation to plead age as an excuse for doing nothing.  To them, concern for the common good remains a basic part of their self-definition as they grow older.

“All  have the usual ailments of growing older,” Yvonne  says, “but we never talk about it.”  “We laugh a lot,” she adds, “It  helps to forget your age – we are very lively as a group; it’s a matter of life over death.”

The issues they pursue – federal, state, and local – include a wide range. The test ban treaty, the School of the Americas, minimum wage, housing, the death penalty, come up frequently.  

Ms. Pappenheim expresses the group rationale: “It’s important to take a stand; otherwise nothing will ever change.”

But sometimes the letters do not press for action. Instead, they are intended simp-ly to thank officials for taking action.

These determined women are remarkably patient. About some issues, they say, “We’ve been writing about this for years.” And occasionally, “By the time we get an an-swer, you can’t remember what in the world you wrote about.”  

They recognize that one of the advantages of age, perhaps a wisdom that comes with it, is the realization that societal change inevitably takes time. “You have to keep hacking away,” says the convenor, “It’s the only ways things happen.”

Some victories do come their way. The women took heart recently when they dis-covered that funds for the School of the Americas were cut back.

I asked Ms. Pappenheim if, before writing, she ever gets angry. “The angrier you are, the better you write,” she answered. “Sometimes you have to get upset.”

Clearly, these enterprising women have not bought into the notion that age is simply a time for pulling back from concern for the world. They presumably do not see later life as a kind of natural monastery. The classical Hindu notion of retirement years as a stage when one takes to the forest and lives cut off from the larger world seems not to appeal to them.  

I think it does members of this letter-writing group credit that they do not push only for legislation that favors older people. Instead, they feel concern for all of society, young people as well as old. This was also the genius of Maggie Kuhn, founder of the Gray Panthers, who saw that advocates of a certain age commend their own cause better if they show concern about their juniors too.

They also show me that a link is possible between caring about society and paying attention to the good of one’s own soul. The spiritual ideal of combining action and con-templation may be within range after all.

Richard Griffin

Religion, Varied and Conflictual

In another space, I recently wrote about John Kerry as a Catholic. In response, a reader contacted me to express his indignation at my having suggested that the Democratic nominee for president takes his religious faith seriously.

Not so, protested the reader, claiming that Senator Kerry never mentions God, does not go to church, and has a faith that is entirely bogus. A follow-up conversation with the reader produced nothing but more invective against the nominee.

Of course, I respect the right of every person to vote as he sees fit. Nonetheless, I feel troubled by this reader’s intemperate reaction to my carefully expressed appraisal of a public figure’s stance toward God.

In that column I had suggested that Kerry’s religious faith was among his greatest assets because it can lead him to value the dimensions of life that go beyond the material and pragmatic and to judge the actions he takes by a higher standard than the merely expedient. The same can be said of the faith of George W. Bush.

The extent to which religion has figured in this year’s election for president has surprised some observers. And yet, Americans are known as among the most religious people in the world, with two-thirds answering a Pew poll by saying that religion plays a very important part in their lives.

Unfortunately, much of the discussion about religious issues during the past year has proven unbalanced and divisive. The reader who shared his views with me did not help: he was just plain wrong about the facts and, it seems, highly prejudiced.

From the perspective of spirituality, his statements seem especially regrettable because they reflect rash judgments about another person. How can anyone assert that the faith of another person is hypocritical, unless that person’s actions demonstrate clear contradictions?

My hope is for this year’s electoral struggles not to leave behind a legacy of religious bitterness. It would be spiritually damaging to this country if ill will among those of different religious views were to take firm hold.

Speaking about my own tradition, I feel concern about the effects of those American Catholic bishops who have threatened John Kerry with a kind of excommunication for supporting legislation permitting abortion. Like many other Catholic politicians, Senator Kerry opposes abortion itself but he considers banning it unwise for fear of unleashing other evils.

This position is awkward but does not deserve being branded sinful. Instead of hurting Kerry at the election booth, it may provoke a backlash among Catholics against those bishops.

There is no single way of being religious. Instead, people have various styles of religious life. Some are comfortable expressing their beliefs openly, while others show more reserve about their faith. Many New Englanders have a sober style of religiosity and shrink from emotional expressions of belief. For people in some other parts of the country, such expression is an integral part of religion.

Life would be dull were we all the same. Though I am myself reserved in religious practice, I have often enjoyed sharing in celebrations that feature exuberant singing, dancing, and outbursts of religious emotion.

But respect for religious diversity is not enough. One cannot assert that, if we are simply tolerant of one another, problems will disappear. Issues like the relationship between church and state, for instance, cannot be easily resolved. To cite just one area of concern, I feel wary of the way that the current administration has implemented the so-called “faith-based initiative.” And, for me, the ongoing disputes about same gender marriage are much less important than the fact of so many children living in poverty, even in America.

I must also confess deep concern when public officials speak as if they have an open telephone line to God. Invoking God as supporting a given policy seems to me a misuse of religion. Especially does this apply when the deity is presented as approving of a war or other grave actions that offend morality.

That so many Americans are religious should be seen as something good. So, too, is our variety of religious thought and practice. Our country is wide enough to accommodate different ways of being religious.

However, we religious folks must also be vigilant enough not to accept false uses of religion that compromise faith and twist it to justify policies and actions that are morally offensive.

Richard Griffin

Slavitt Runs

You have to admire a guy who, nearly age 70, decides to run for public office for the first time. Even when you know he has zero chance of getting elected and you do not agree with most of his positions, still his taking the plunge demands respect. That’s what I feel for my friend David Slavitt, Republican nominee for the 26th Middlesex District of the Massachusetts House of Representatives.

Before tossing his beret into the bull ring, David consulted me about the wisdom of running. Yes, do run, I advised him, but only if you keep two principles firmly in mind.

First, remember that you have absolutely no chance of winning. And second, you owe it to yourself to have fun while running.

Regretfully, I must report that, as to my first counsel, David has proved inconstant. Like almost every other candidate I have ever known, he sometimes allows himself to fantasize about sitting among the elected representatives of the people. He lapses into the impossible dream that he can upset a Democratic incumbent of eleven years’ standing.

Admittedly, that incumbent, Tim Toomey, eked out a surprisingly narrow victory in last month’s primary over a novice challenger who was not nearly so well known in the district. Clearly David Slavitt has allowed this near miss to encourage fantasies of knocking off the Democratic nominee. But he is also clearly having fun.

Out for entertainment, I attended a debate last week between Toomey and Slavitt. Not being a resident of their district, I felt no personal stake in their contest and could be present in a lighthearted spirit. But I did look forward to hearing some of what I have come to call Slavittisms. David did not disappoint.

As a nonbeliever in political correctness, he can always be relied on to favor wit over tact.  

Until recently, this political nouveau venu would have been lambasting Tom Finneran, the erstwhile Speaker of the House. Even now, however, he takes a swipe at the man. Of the former Speaker, Slavitt does not shrink from charging that he “lied to a panel of federal judges.”

By now, however, the position of speaker has devolved to Sal DiMasi whose policies may be similar to Finneran’s. So Slavitt has turned his rhetorical guns on the new speaker, calling him “Finneran’s Rottweiler.”

Like others, I laughed at this characterization, but as a non-dog person I had to look up the term. I learned that these pets are named for a German city. Tall and powerful and mean looking, they often serve as guard dogs. They bite.

Asked what he thinks of the presidential race, David does not hide his own educational pedigree. Speaking of the candidates and himself, he acknowledges: “All three of us are Yalies.” Of Kerry, he says: “I was for him before I was against him.”

Is he in favor of extending the Green Line into Somerville at the risk of furthering gentrification? To this question from Toomey, his challenger replies: “I think gentrification is generally a good thing.”  He also makes fun of the station at Lechmere which has been “temporary for the last 80 years.”

Toomey goes after my friend for calling Somerville a suburb of Cambridge. David holds to this position, one that seems hardly attractive to voters from the part of Somerville that falls within the 26th district. Without Harvard and MIT, he believes, Cambridge would offer little more than its neighboring city.  

One of Slavitt’s favorite issues is the abuse that he perceives happening under the so-called Quinn Bill. That 1970 legislation provides promotions and other benefits for police officers and firefighters who take courses in public colleges and universities. David complains that “the cops are taking worthless courses.” Worse still is the double- dipping that they practice: “The cops become crooks,” he charges.

About Toomey’s opposition to rolling back the state income tax, David asks the incumbent: “Are you going along with your leadership or are you in economic error entirely on your own?”

Even Representative Toomey smiles at thrusts like this one. He knows that his opponent is enjoying himself and so, no doubt is he. But the incumbent does not appear to underestimate the perils of being challenged by the author of some 80 books.

In a fine frenzy of rhetoric, Slavitt concludes the debate by characterizing what he calls the Democrat Party as “corrupt, complacent, self-congratulatory, and overbearing in its stranglehold on public life in the Commonwealth.”

Early in his campaign Slavitt attended a Republican rally at which Mitt Romney, the current governor, addressed his party’s aspirants for state office. David took inspiration from Romney’s reflections on the meaning behind electoral politics. “You are all going to die,” Romney said, much to David’s astonishment.

With this quixotic saying, Romney was suggesting that one should take risks in a lifetime that does not last forever. Sticking your neck out is worth doing, even when you end up tilting at windmills.

Richard Griffin

Ten Thousand Portions

A friend has shared with me a saying of the Buddha. According to tradition, this great teacher of humankind left these words:  “Every human being is allotted ten thousand portions of joy and ten thousand portions of sorrow.”

Immediately, this saying strikes the hearer as intriguing. It summarizes human life in one sweeping sentence. And yet, the more we hear it, the more we perceive the need for reflection on its meaning.

The first part makes the human heart leap up in exaltation. So much joy, who would not want that?

But then the Buddha balances it by affirming that an equal amount of sorrow awaits us all. This seems like a heavy burden indeed.

Perhaps the wisdom of these words lies in their suggestiveness rather than in their literal truth. They amount to a kind of poetry, not a mere prosaic statement of fact. Accustomed to the factual, we can make the mistake of taking the words as precise instead of suggestive.

Thus the number ten thousand does not reflect an actual count of people’s joys and sorrows but rather stands for “a large amount.”  Everyone has a great many chances at the two, the teacher seems to be saying.

The idea of our being given so many opportunities for joy amounts to a welcome message indeed. However, it makes you wonder about those who are afflicted with long-lasting disease or disability. Can they possibly lay hold of an allotment of joy equal to their grief?

And how about those who die young? A friend who died recently at 45 after three years of agonizing illness; can she have known as much joy as sorrow?

Actually, the answer may be yes. She was a person who knew how to celebrate life even when she knew her time on earth would soon end. She found joy in her husband and two young children, along with her legion of dear friends.

A central difference between shares of sorrow and joy, it seems to me, is that we never seek out sorrow, but joy requires an effort of us. It is a gift to which we must open our hearts. Spiritually gifted, my friend knew how to welcome joy into her life despite her narrow prospects for surviving her disease.

Were I asked to suggest ways of opening ourselves up to joy, I might list three.

First, take care of your relationships. Make sure you are not at enmity with anyone, especially members of your immediate and extended family. It is hard to imagine feeling joy in one’s heart while harboring ill will toward other people.

Nothing compares in importance with this first suggestion. Relating to the everyday people in our lives with respect and fairness goes far to make possible a joyful heart. This enables the Spirit to send gifts of joy to us like unexpected flashes of light.

If we can go further and treat others with love and affection, that behavior brightens our chance for joy. Seeing those close to us as gifts that we have received can enhance our lives no end.

A second suggestion: find something to do that you love. Too few of us love the work for which we get paid but, if we can arrange it, that employment can become a source of joy.

If this proves not possible, then we can look for activities aside from the workplace to bring us pleasure.

A friend of mine, recently retired, spoke to me last week with anticipation of a trip to South Africa where he and his wife will observe birds not seen in North America. Birding is not for everyone, nor can everyone travel so far, but everyone can find something that provokes enthusiasm.

Thirdly, cultivate the inner peace that leads to joy. If we dare be silent sometimes, away from the intrusive noises of our society, we will increase our chances of developing a peaceful heart that is the best environment for joy.

In my tradition, joy is seen as one fruit of the Holy Spirit. She, the Spirit of God, is the one who gives this gift that goes so far to make life rich. If this gift becomes our portion, then we may find ourselves better able to deal with the challenges that earthly life always brings.

Richard Griffin

JFK and JFK

The year was 1960 and Jack Kennedy was running hard for president. His campaign exhilarated me back in those more illusioned days. We shared much in common−Boston, Harvard, the Church−and my father was a friend of his father. Jack’s charm and urbanity captivated my younger self and made me follow his campaign with high hopes.

It made a difference for me that Kennedy was a Catholic. I identified with his religious tradition, one that I shared and took to be the source of my most cherished values. When he was challenged by those who opposed him for his faith, I rooted for him and cheered when he skillfully defended himself against accusations that he would be a tool of the pope.

Probably I should have regarded the election of 1960 as more crucial than I actually did. Had I foreseen how the Cold War would heat up with the Cuban Missile Crisis, I would have felt the stakes to be higher. Fortunately, in what proved his finest hour, Kennedy made wise decisions when they were most needed.

More than four decades have passed and now another Catholic, John Kerry, is running as the Democratic nominee. My affective identification with the second JFK is not nearly so close as it was with the first, but I want more desperately for this senator to be elected president.

I do so, not so much because of Kerry’s personal qualities, but because the White House incumbent has proven such a menace both to our nation and, in fact, to the world at large. Never before have I felt such fear that a major party presidential candidate might seriously damage civil liberties at home and the prospects for peace among nations.

To me, joking about George W. Bush’s alleged dimness clouds the reality. In fact, this man has been smart enough to bring about changes on an unprecedented scale. He has initiated preemptive warfare that has replaced the doctrine of containment and deterrence that had prevailed at least since the start of the Cold War.

On the domestic front, this Bush has proven adept at getting his agenda adopted  by making the Congress dismayingly compliant. In doing so, he has plunged the country deeply into debt, placing a huge burden on coming generations. His tax cuts have benefited a few, and created a problematic future for the many.

Using blunderbuss tactics, he and his allies in Congress got members to pass Medicare legislation under the rubric of providing prescription drug coverage. This change is slated to cost elders dearly, while benefiting insurance companies and drug manufacturers handsomely.

Thanks to this law, Americans who receive Social Security now and over the next decades will find Medicare taking larger and larger bites out of their monthly payments. And, in an era when private pension plans are increasingly precarious, it is disturbing to hear Bush intent on privatizing Social Security.

My support for Kerry has grown stronger in direct proportion to the opposition that a minority of Catholic bishops is mounting against him. Unlike the first JFK, he faces persistent challenges from religious leaders of his own faith. To a degree unprecedented in previous elections, they have dared to give instructions to voters.

Religious leaders have a right, and many would say a duty, to provide moral and ethical guidance. The nation needs leadership in the difficult questions brought on by modernity.

But those bishops who oppose Kerry do so by selectively choosing one set of issues while ignoring others of great importance. We do not hear from them on war and peace, capital punishment, and the poor and dispossessed. Though their own church leadership in Rome has spoken out forcefully on these issues, the bishops choose to ignore them.

I feel more than empathy with Catholic politicians who sincerely judge abortion a social evil but feel they must at least tolerate legislation that permits it. When I ran for public office in my home city, people dissatisfied with my taking this position distributed flyers against me in various Catholic parishes, an action that did not make me happy.

Unlike some others, I regard Kerry’s religious faith as among his great assets. He takes seriously the dimensions of life that go beyond the material and practical, and this does him credit.

Admittedly, Kerry’s style of being religious differs from that of his opponent and many other people. It tends to be low-key, discreet, and underplayed. That is a style I consider appropriate for public life. By contrast, the religious enthusiasm that lays claim to special messages from the Deity can spell trouble.

In later life, I feel much less illusioned than I did when the first JFK was running. History has sobered me as it has done so many of my age peers. But I see the choice this time around as clear and of crucial importance.

Richard Griffin

Transfiguration

The icon of the Transfiguration shows Jesus in the center, with Moses the lawgiver on his left and the prophet Elijah on his right. These three figures who stand against a golden sky wear long robes, and Jesus is surrounded by a cloud of glory. He raises his right hand in blessing as he reveals his divinity.

Below the three standing figures sprawl Peter, James, and John, the most favored of Jesus’ disciples. They are clearly distraught, overcome by the dazzling show of the Lord’s glory. Unlike the Lord and the two great figures from the Hebrew Bible, they do not have haloes around their heads.

The icon described here bears the Greek title, The Metamorphosis, meaning the transformation. It celebrates the event in sacred history whereby the Lord Jesus reveals something of his divinity so as to strengthen his disciples before his forthcoming passion and death. This particular icon also celebrates the connection that Jesus has with Moses, representing the Law, and Elijah standing for the Prophets.

Icons like this one play a large part in Eastern Christianity. Members of the Orthodox and also the eastern Catholic churches make these images an important part of their spirituality. They draw inspiration from gazing on these works of art, allowing them to feed their souls.

Christians of the West tend to pay less attention to icons and leave them out of account in their spiritual life. Some, however, do find them helpful in developing prayerful patterns of daily living. For one day, at least, a group from my parish church took part in a day of prayer using the icon of the Transfiguration as a starting point.

For this occasion, a replica of this splendid icon was mounted on a stand for all to see. A lighted candle burned before it as a sign of spiritual presence. And the group of parishioners, following the lead of one of their priests, began by answering each part of a litany with the response “Let us pray to the Lord.”

This litany, or repetitive prayer of petition, came from the Byzantine liturgy that is used by many churches of the East. A recorded version of the Our Father in the Russian language was played, heightening an atmosphere conducive to prayer.

The first presenter, Ana-Maria, who in her professional life is a psychoanalyst, began her discussion by stating: “This icon is an image of you and me.” By saying this she meant that Christianity calls each person to share in God’s own life. Jesus, revealing his divinity, shows how people of faith can be raised above the human level and partake of the divine.

Ana-Maria acknowledged being sometimes “overwhelmed by life in general and by the mystery of God.” But she sees this experience of awe as an appropriate response to the glory suggested in the icon. For her, the Transfiguration also requires of believers that they share with each other their appreciation of the chance to live God’s own life.

Father Jim, in his presentation, rejected the idea of Christianity as enabling people to be good. Rather, this faith centers on the call to a transfigured life. “Don’t shoot merely for goodness,” he exhorted his listeners, “but for transfiguration.”

In looking at the icon, he suggested, one sees the purpose of life, namely to be transfigured, to be divinized. That is what God wants of human beings, according to basic Christianity. Another way of seeing it is that God calls everyone to become holy in the pattern of the glorified Jesus as shown in the icon.

Becoming transfigured is nothing humans can accomplish by themselves, however. Echoing Christian tradition, Father Jim stressed the role of the Spirit of God. “The Holy Spirit is the one who transfigures,” he said.

For those who follow the Christian tradition, spirituality refers ultimately to the Holy Spirit. It is not something generated by humans but instead depends on the activity of God in the human heart. One becomes a spiritual person through the loving initiative of the Spirit of God.

The people who took part in their parish’s day of recollection left after celebrating the Eucharist and reinvigorating their commitment to the transfigured Jesus. They returned to daily life with the image of the holy icon in their mind’s eye and with a renewed sense of their calling as Christians.

Richard Griffin