While Francis is known for his love of the natural world, his mission to live the Gospel to the letter, and his vibrant prayer life, for me, it’s his work as a missionary of peace that I am drawn to the most. God told Francis to repair the house, and I like to think part of that mission was bringing peace to those who needed it. 

With the magazine you’re reading, we are continuing St. Francis’ directive. And as this is an election year, peace will be elusive. Civil unrest was not a foreign concept to Francis, but he didn’t allow it to slow him down, either. Rather, it put a spring in his step to bring peace to every house he visited. 

We hope you find a measure of peace today—in your heart and in your house. And if you have it, share it. 

Both the US government and the Catholic Church had a hand in the establishment and operation of Native American boarding schools, where, for nearly a century, thousands of children were sent without their parents’ consent. Now religious congregations across the country are finding out about their own involvement and working toward repairing shattered relationships with Indigenous communities. 

When I was growing up, I remember experiencing Indigenous culture firsthand and feeling so enriched and excited by it. For many years, my family has spent vacations in northern Ontario at a cabin along one of the many lakes that dot the Great Lakes region. Ultimately, it was love that brought my family in close contact with the Ojibwe people and culture: My oldest brother dated and later married a woman from the nearby Mississauga First Nation Indian Reserve (what would be called a reservation in the United States). 

The first powwow I attended was unforgettable. I remember hearing the sound of the pulsing drumbeat and traditional chants from the parking lot and being filled with wonder and even a bit of trepidation. At 11 years old, I was in for a deep plunge of cultural immersion that day, as I ate the food, listened to the swirling chants, and soaked in the colors of the traditional clothing worn by dancers in the powwow circle. Years later, on return trips up north, I started noticing signs along the highway that passes through two Ojibwe reserves, including my sister-in-law’s, on the way to our family cabin. Signs that read “Protect Our Children” and “Every Child Matters” alluded to something dark and sinister, but I wasn’t sure what was at the bottom of these messages. 

The more I read about the origin of these roadside signs, the more I found out how widespread and pernicious were the abuses that took place in Canada’s residential schools. As truth and reconciliation efforts have made strides in our neighbor to the north, more information has come to light about the reality here in the United States at what were called Native American (or Indian) boarding schools. That our Indigenous brothers and sisters suffered abuses at the boarding schools—some of which were Catholic-run—is a profound injustice in need of repair. 

Native communities, which have absorbed enormous intergenerational trauma, are currently walking the long road to healing. Thanks to their resilience and willingness to do the hard work of restorative justice with allies in the Church, though, there is hope for a brighter future. But before true healing can happen, it’s important to understand what caused this trauma and why it still has so much impact today. 

Not Ancient History

In the 1880s, and under the guise of providing Native children with a proper education and instilling in them American values, the boarding school system took shape. After many were forced onto reservations, Native families sustained further trauma as children were taken from their parents without consent and often with the threat of violence or legal repercussions should they refuse. According to the National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition (NABS), 523 boarding schools operated at various times in the United States, and, by 1926, there were nearly 61,000 Native children in the schools, which existed in 38 states and impacted Alaskan and Hawaiian Indigenous peoples as well. That comes out to about 86 percent of all Native school-age children in the United States at the time. If this sounds like ancient history, consider the fact that the system of boarding schools continued through the 1960s. Legislation passed by Congress in 1978 finally put the power of consent back in the hands of parents. 

There were a number of ways that boarding schools set out to wipe Native identity from the minds and spirits of children, including cutting boys’ hair (which would typically only happen upon the death of a tribal elder), giving students Anglicized names, and prohibiting students from speaking their language or practicing their spirituality. Richard Henry Pratt, an American military officer and one of the early proponents of the boarding school system, once infamously summed up the government’s approach: “Kill the Indian, and save the man.” In 2021, Secretary of the Interior Deb Haaland (an Indigenous woman herself) launched a federal investigation, with the results revealing that physical, sexual, and emotional abuse were rife at these institutions. 

Officially, over 500 children died at various boarding schools in the United States, although that number is sure to grow as more research is done. Both marked and unmarked burial sites have been identified at 53 different schools. The report notes, “Federal records indicate that the United States viewed official disruption to the Indian family unit as part of Federal Indian policy to assimilate Indian children.” 

When collective trauma, stemming from actions such as the US government’s assimilation policy, continues to have a negative impact over time, it becomes intergenerational trauma. It’s often manifested in any number of social ills, from increased incidences of substance abuse to unemployment to suicide. According to the Centers for Disease Control, non-Hispanic Indigenous people die by suicide at a rate higher than any other racial or ethnic group. A 2020 American Community Survey, conducted by the US Census Bureau, showed that one in three Native Americans lives in poverty, with a median income of $23,000. 

A Time to Listen

But what does all of this have to do with the Catholic Church in America? Alongside efforts by NABS, an organization called Catholic Truth & Healing  
(https://ctah.ArchivistsACWR.org) has attempted to catalog all of the Catholic-run boarding schools, a daunting task. The group started compiling the list of schools in 2021, and though the current number of Catholic-run schools listed is 87, it’s expected to grow as more information comes to light. Congregations of Catholic women religious ran 74 of the Catholic boarding schools, and some of those groups are just now finding out about their involvement. 

The Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration (FSPA), located in La Crosse, Wisconsin, is one such group with ties to a boarding school and is still very much in the process of discovery, archiving, and working toward healing. A page on the FSPA website dedicated to truth and reconciliation states: “We’re studying our own history and impact at St. Mary’s Boarding School in Odanah, Wisconsin, from 1883 to 1969. Our hope is that we take action in dismantling systemic racism and White supremacy in ourselves and our areas of influence. Our intention is to address our complicity in unjust systems, both historically and now, and strive to enhance dignity and wholeness to those who have suffered for generations.” 

The congregation’s vice president, Sister Georgia Christensen, FSPA, is passionate about this justice issue and committed to the painful but essential process of healing. “Educating ourselves is the first step,” she says. “We’ve attended webinars and had book discussions. We’ve participated in powwows, and we’ve done two walks for missing and murdered Indigenous women [Known as MMIW walks, these events help to raise awareness.]. We provide justice training for our own people and, in fact, just completed a training session for 50 of our members and staff. It was very intense—a three-day workshop where we set up peace circles.”  

A major part of the education piece is deceivingly simple and not as easy as it sounds: listening. For a people whose history has been told largely by its colonizers, it’s incredibly important that the power to own and share their history be returned to them. To this end, the FSPA’s Truth and Healing Team has participated in listening sessions, where members of the Ho-Chunk and Chippewa/Ojibwe nations speak about the traumas experienced at St. Mary’s, as well as the effects of intergenerational trauma. The result of these listening sessions has been a positive step for both parties. 

“It’s relationship-building that is working toward providing us the opportunity to say we’re sorry and we want to do something that will work toward healing,” Sister Georgia says. “I think one of the biggest things for us is really to develop relationships. When we started our Truth and Healing Team, we had sisters, affiliates, partners in mission (our staff), and we had an Ojibwe member on the team.” The team has since expanded to include a member from the Ho-Chunk Nation, a man who Sister Georgia says has been “extremely helpful and challenging, which is exactly what we need.” 

Documenting a Collective Trauma

Coupled with the education piece is the painstaking but crucial task of archiving the FSPA history with the St. Mary’s Boarding School. This is important work for the congregation’s own understanding of its past, but even more so for the Ojibwe and Ho-Chunk people. The archives have been opened and made available to them, which helps families track down information on their connection to St. Mary’s Boarding School. 

FSPA archivist Meg Paulino shares a particularly impactful moment that occurred as she was reading through some correspondence between the school and a Native American family. In the letters, she noticed that a 12-year-old boy had been sent back home to his family due to illness. A notice in a local newspaper reported that the boy had died, but the names didn’t match up. “I looked through all our record books and couldn’t find him there,” she says. Frustrated, Paulino dug deeper into the story. “Finally, I went to, of all things, FindaGrave.com,” Paulino recalls. “I just went deep into it. I was going to find this young man.” She discovered that the boy had a younger brother who was also at the boarding school. The records show that the younger brother remained at St. Mary’s after his brother was sent home. He would never see his older brother again. 

“This was one of the first times [working in the archives] I broke down crying,” says Paulino, who, being a mother of young boys herself, deeply related to this story. “This one really hit me hard, and it made me realize how important it is to help people find their ancestors and loved ones. It’s a very small part of my job in the archives, but I drop everything when it comes to finding out what happened to children such as this boy.” Paulino was able to share everything she found out with the boy’s family, giving them a sense of closure they wouldn’t have had otherwise. Along with sharing documents and correspondence with nearby Indigenous communities, the FSPA Truth and Healing team has returned cultural items and artifacts to the Bad River Chippewa Tribe in what was called a “repatriation ceremony.” 

Apologies Need Action 

Quickly offered, shallow apologies for egregious wrongs are commonplace today, which is something the FSPAs want to avoid. Educating themselves on and transparently documenting the FSPA history at St. Mary’s Boarding School must come before an apology. “It’s a learning process,” says Sister Georgia. “I think the apology gets woven into it. You don’t start with it.” 

As similar efforts are underway at numerous congregations and orders across the country to bring about justice and reconciliation, we, as Catholics and Americans, have to face up to what amounts to an act of genocide. Many of those who work closely on the issue of boarding schools in the United States watched intently as Pope Francis made what he called a “penitential pilgrimage” to Canada in 2022. In his address to a group of Indigenous leaders in Maskwacis, Alberta, he stated: “I am here because the first step of my penitential pilgrimage among you is that of again asking forgiveness, of telling you once more that I am deeply sorry. Sorry for the ways in which, regrettably, many Christians supported the colonizing mentality of the powers that oppressed the Indigenous peoples. I am sorry.” 

_{During his July 2022 visit to Maskwacis, Alberta, Pope Francis prays in front of a banner bearing the names of 4,120 Indigenous children and the residential school where they died. Truth and healing efforts are currently underway in the United States.}

As monumental as Pope Francis’ visit to Canada was, it set the stage for more work to be done. Finally, on March 30, 2023, the Vatican officially repudiated the Doctrine of Discovery, which for over 500 years had justified the colonization of Indigenous peoples, land seizures, and the myriad human rights abuses that followed. All but four of the Native American boarding schools in the United States have closed, and those that remain are firmly in the hands of the Indigenous people who run them and send their children there—this time, by choice. Unlike the Canadian government, which issued an official apology to Indigenous peoples and formed a Truth and Reconciliation Commission in 2008, our own government has yet to do either. In fact, the word genocide is nowhere to be found in official reports, such as the Department of the Interior’s 2021 investigation. 

The work of the FSPA Truth and Healing Team, NABS, and many others helps ensure that, by studying and accepting the hard truths of history, we’re not doomed to repeat the same mistakes. For Sister Georgia, these efforts are deeply rooted in the Franciscan charism. “I see it as a part of simple, honest living and getting back to creation,” she says. “Trying to live the Gospel was what St. Francis tried to do, and I think that’s what we’re trying to do.” 

In their own ways, often unseen by many, these groups are continuing to respond to God’s directive to St. Francis at San Damiano: “Francis, go and repair my house, which, as you see, is falling into ruin.” Those on a mission to address our country’s sad history of Native American boarding schools are placing a stone back in the San Damiano Chapel and rebuilding God’s house. “Maybe it’s bigger than a stone,” says Sister Georgia. “It’s a huge effort.” 

Additional Resources

• Information on the Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration’s truth and healing efforts: FSPA.org/content/ministries/justice-peace/truth-and-healing

• The National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition: BoardingSchoolHealing.org

• “Healing with Our Indigenous Brothers and Sisters,” an article by Adrienne Castellon on Canada’s residential schools (St. Anthony Messenger, November/December 2023): FranciscanMedia.org/st-anthony-messenger/healing-with-our-indigenous-brothers-and-sisters

• The United Nations Office on Genocide Prevention (which includes its definition of genocide): UN.org/en/GenocidePrevention

• The US Conference of Catholic Bishops Subcommittee of Native American Affairs: USCCB.org/committees/native-american-affairs

The time-honored practice of labeling and excluding those who differ from us is eating away at our Christian call to love one another. 

“It doesn’t take a declaration, or an invasion, to start a war, all it takes is an ‘us’ and a ‘them.’ And a spark.” —Ada Palmer 

On the morning of October 14, 2023, in Plainfield, Illinois, Hanaan Shahin, 32, answered a knock at her apartment door. On the other end was her landlord, Joseph Czuba, 71, who authorities claim stabbed the Palestinian-American mother a dozen times. Fending him off, she hid in a bathroom and called 911. Czuba is alleged to have then attacked Shahin’s young son, Wadea al-Fayoume. The motive, it is believed, was anger over the Israeli-Hamas War that broke out the week before. 

Wadea died from his injuries: 26 stabs wounds in all. He was 6 years old. Czuba has pleaded not guilty. 

This strain of ethnic violence is not a 21st-century invention, but it certainly has a foothold in 2024, and it seems to escalate around national elections. According to a report by the Leadership Conference Education Fund (LCEF), anti-Muslim hate crimes peaked during the lead-up to the 2016 presidential election—the highest recorded numbers since 2001. “From 2020 to 2021,” the report states, “the [American Muslim] community was subjected to a 40-percent increase in reported hate crimes.” 

Hatred is not only growing—it’s diversifying. The Jewish, Asian, Sikh, and LGBTQ communities have charted similar rises in hate crimes against them, the LCEF report shows. Even the disabled have been targeted. The second half of this year, experts warn, could be one of the deadliest on record. 

We have a champion of peace in our canon of saints to go by. Francis of Assisi, viewed by many as the lovable “birdbath saint,” lived a much more complicated, radical life than Catholic folklore allows. And this itinerant from the Middle Ages can offer a model of peace for our own century. 

The Saint and the Sultan

“The sultan . . . tried to bend Francis’ mind toward the riches of the world. But when he saw that Francis most vigorously despised all these things . . . he was filled with the greatest admiration, and he looked upon him as a man different from all others.” —St. Francis of Assisi: Omnibus of Sources 

I have long admired how St. Francis’ love for God led him to caves for solitude or the Crusades for sermonizing. He seemed to need both action and inaction to live out his faith. In 1219, he and a companion traversed a bloody war to preach the Gospel to Sultan Malik al-Kamil and his men in Damietta, Egypt. Perhaps Francis had his heart set on martyrdom. But something much different happened. During the two weeks he was in Egypt, the sultan tried to tempt his visitor to abandon poverty in favor of material riches; the preacher invited his Muslim host to embrace Christianity. The two men were at an impasse, but a friendship took root. Their differences did not mean division. 

Imagine the logistics and the dangers Francis and his companion had to navigate to bring his message of peace—especially to a man from another culture. Today, allegiance is defined by your political party. People won’t cross an aisle for solidarity let alone an ocean for peacebuilding. 

Aggression and division, reports show, are growing. According to a 2023 report by the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), last year saw a record number of White supremacist propaganda incidents (7,567 cases), a 12 percent increase from 2022. The ADL’s report also showed a 63 percent increase in White supremacist events in 2023 as opposed to the year prior. 

What is needed for deliverance is conversion, and that theory resonates with Pope Francis. “Avoiding evil and learning to do good: this is the rule of conversion,” he said in 2017. “[Conversion] is a journey. It’s a journey of avoiding and of learning.” Conversion isn’t easy. For it to take root there should be an internal struggle, a shift in our foundation. St. Francis understood that. His namesake continues to push the agenda of peace and understanding. But it is up to us to make it happen. 

One Body

“For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body . . . and we were all given to drink of one Spirit.” (1 Cor 13)

Through the end of this year, St. Anthony Messenger will be presenting a short article—like the one you’re reading—on a specific issue facing American Catholics, such as immigration, election integrity, ecological justice, and peace. But the editors felt that the issue of “othering,” of labeling, excluding, or even harming those whom we define as different or less than, should kick off the series. 

As the 2024 election draws closer and tempers flare, let us pray that the message above from St. Paul might steady our hearts and remind us of our Christian responsibility to love all members of the human family: imperfect as we are though loved perfectly into being. It’s that simple. And it’s that challenging. 

Let us pray that cooler heads prevail and that we, as a bruised but beloved human family, may have the grace to raise our glasses as we “drink of one Spirit.” 

From the greeting card aisle to the workplace, negative stereotypes about aging abound. This author argues that it’s time to recognize and counter ageism. 

A few years ago, during a history travel trip with my students, I was taken aback by the chatter in the van I was driving. One of the visiting lecturers for the course had remarked that, every summer, he and his wife enjoyed renting the cottage where we were staying. He noted with pride that they walked in the early morning up to and back from the main road, probably a 3-mile round trip. Here’s what I heard from my students in mocking tones: “We are so proud that we walk 3 miles together every day up the little hill and back.” Sarcastic responses all around. 

Here’s why I was taken aback. I had taught most of the students engaged in that conversation. In the years I had known them, I had been impressed with their insights on racism and sexism. All were passionate about eradicating these “isms.” But elderly people were fair game? 

Reminded by an insightful friend that adolescents almost always believe themselves invulnerable to danger, illness, and aging, I wondered how widespread ageism was in every age group. I started to investigate ageism to help me understand this particular bias. 

I began with a search for articles on the web. While racism and sexism had 62,195 and 27,930 hits respectively, ageism had a paltry 3,630. 

In a 1969 seminal article titled “Age-Ism: Another Form of Bigotry,” physician Robert N. Butler defines the term: “prejudice by one age group toward another age group. If such bias exists, might it not be especially evident in America, a society that has traditionally valued pragmatism, action, power, and the vigor of youth over contemplation, reflection, experience, and the wisdom of age?” 

Ashley Burke, an attorney specializing in estate planning and elder law, told me that she and her staff frequently observe ageist attitudes. 

“If an older individual is in a room with adult children, a lot of doctors (and even attorneys) address the younger individual as if their elders were not even there,” she says. “They need to be addressed; they need to be part of the conversation.” 

One of my saddest memories of a dear, elderly friend—one who had nurtured and mentored me, becoming a role model for my own aging—still pains me as I recall her noting how people “don’t even see me. It’s as if I’m invisible.” 

Stereotypes about Aging 

Burke and her colleagues point to ageism in marketing materials they see from nursing homes and related services. “Many images show the elderly as frail and sickly, and that’s not what all elderly people look like.” 

Although some representations of the elderly are positive, negative stereotypes abound, across all cultures. The World Health Organization’s (WHO) Global Campaign to Combat Ageism includes a chart of stereotypes in different institutional settings. In health and social care, terms describing older people include “rigid, irritable and frustrating, asexual, easily confused, and needy.” In work settings, they are stereotyped as “unproductive, resistant to change, harder to train and unable to learn, not technologically competent.” 

Stereotypes identified in media on the WHO’s chart are obvious to many of us older people who consume streaming series or movies. Four positives on the list are outnumbered by negatives, including “unhappy, senile, badly dressed, unhealthy, and inactive.” 

At 76, I am surrounded by friends my age who defy these negative stereotypes. One of them is Alan deCourcy, 77, who seven years ago retired from my university and is far from being “rigid,” “technologically incompetent,” or “inactive.” 

Before he came to Mount St. Joseph University, he earned a doctor of ministry from United Theological Seminary and was ordained in the United Church of Christ. He spent 20 years as a hospital chaplain and counselor, then brought his gifts to our students, teaching classes in religion and pastoral studies. It was his technological competence that led him to create two of the most popular online courses we offer: Exploring the Sacred and The Holocaust. Happily for us, and for his students, he continues to teach in his retirement. 

What Ageism Looks Like 

Unlike my older friend mentioned earlier who felt “invisible,” Alan had not been exposed to ageist practices until recently. He speculates that the nature of the community where he lives has protected him. He and his wife, Lynne, are residents of Oxford, Ohio, home to Miami University. 

“Oxford has lots of students and retirees, but few in the age brackets between,” he explains. “Many of the people we interact with are retired Miami professors, so there is much support for people in our age group.” 

Alan and Lynne have always had dog companions, their last being a beloved retriever, Scout, whom they nursed through various injuries and surgeries until they made the decision to put her to sleep. When they were ready to search for another canine member of the family, they filled out online applications. 

“All the places wanted to know our age. We started to get weird responses of rejection, like, ‘This dog needs to be with another dog,’ and others that didn’t make much sense.” 

Some friends their age met the same roadblocks when they visited a Labrador rescue and were told outright that they were too old to adopt a dog. 

“I get it,” says Alan. “Their concern is for the well-being of the dog. But they just assume that people our age are too frail or inactive to take care of a dog. That’s ageism. Because of the exercise and care we have given our dogs, our vet says that any dog who ends up with Lynne and me ‘hits the jackpot.’” 

Despite this frustrating episode, their quest was happily resolved, as Lynne announced on Facebook: “Last Friday, we made a trip to the shelter. And now . . . introducing Cassidy, aka ‘Cassie.’ She’s just barely turned 1, a beagle/Labrador mix, chock-full of love to give, and a very fast learner.” 

‘I See it Everywhere’ 

After hearing Alan’s encounter with ageism in his search for Cassie, I began to reflect on the overheard mocking student conversation that I haven’t shaken several years later. While researching ageism, I shared findings with my dean, whose mother is my age. He told me recently that, until we talked, he had not given much thought to ageism. But now, he said, “I see it everywhere.” If someone as thoughtful and self-aware as my dean (he’s a philosopher) hadn’t noticed ageism, how could I expect my 20-something students to acknowledge their ageist behaviors? The answer, I think, is that ageist words and actions are often unconscious. 

Walk through the card section of any grocery store and note the birthday greetings under the “funny cards” sign. Although some are appropriate for friends of any age, many feed into the negative stereotypes catalogued by the WHO. You’ve seen the card: Two older women are talking, but the exchange is nonsensical because neither of them hears well. Another pokes fun at an elderly person who confuses the garage door opener with the television remote. And then there’s the cake with hundreds of lit candles, and inside a handy fire extinguisher. I plead guilty to having sent those cards to friends—in the past. Now I work harder to find a funny one that would suit a friend of any age so as not to unconsciously reinforce the negative stereotypes that I am increasingly growing impatient with. 

One person I admire who definitely does not promote ageist stereotypes is aged himself: 87-year-old Pope Francis. In fact, he actively advocates for the elderly. In February 2022, he started a series in his general audiences called “Catechesis on Old Age.” In the opening address, he argues, “Together with migration, old age is one of the most urgent issues facing the human family at this time. 

“The exaltation of youth as the only age worthy of embodying the human ideal, coupled with the contempt for old age, seen as frailty, as decay or disability, has been the dominant image of 20th-century totalitarianism,” he observes. “Youth is beautiful, but eternal youth is a very dangerous hallucination. Being old is just as important—and as beautiful—it is equally important as being young.” 

Closing the Generation Gap

What we have lost and need to restore, he believes, is “the alliance between generations, which restores all ages of life to the human level. . . . It must be found, in this throwaway culture and in this culture of productivity.” 

Pope Francis knows what potential for transforming the world resides within the elderly population. He invites and challenges “women and men of a certain age—so as not to say elderly, as some will be offended—let us not forget that we have the possibility of wisdom. . . . We must be like the good wine that, once aged, can give a good message, not a bad one.” 

More writers are helping raise awareness of the harm ageism can do to those who encounter it. In her 2023 book, Honest Aging: An Insider’s Guide to the Second Half of Life, Dr. Rosanne M. Leipzig notes that people are living longer today in contrast to those born in 1900, 50 percent of whom died before they reached 47. “Half of the people born in 1965 will live into their 80s, and many will spend 20 to 30 years in retirement.” 

A Role Model for Aging 

In a section titled “Practices for a Happier Old Age,” her first piece of advice is: “Resist ageism.” Noting the stereotypes already mentioned in this article, she encourages her readers to “become a role model for aging. You can do this simply by being yourself and telling people your age—you’ll love the look of surprise on their faces.” 

Nearly a decade before Leipzig urged readers to become role models for aging, Pro Seniors, a Cincinnati-area group, began celebrating Ohio seniors and sharing “positive images of aging by highlighting the insights that come with experience and a generous spirit.” 

In 2015, when they presented their first “Seniors Who Rock” awards, it was no surprise to see Notre Dame de Namur Sister Rose Ann Fleming among the group. That was the year after she had published her book, Out of Habit: My Life as Xavier University’s Unlikely Point Guard (written with Laura Pulfer). As an avid Xavier basketball fan, I had admired this woman, who held impressive academic degrees beyond her bachelor’s: an MBA, JD, and PhD. But more than her multiple credentials, as a longtime college educator, I admired her for the time she had devoted since 1985 as an academic advisor working with Xavier players at home and on the road to ensure their success. 

Not everyone will have a jersey with his or her name on it hung from the rafters of a university gym or make appearances on NBC News, ABC News, Fox Sports, or The Today Show, as Sister Rose Ann did. But there are plenty of role models for aging all around us, if we only look and listen closely for them. Mine is a friend of at least 45 years, Fran Harmon. 

Fran would be embarrassed to be labeled a role model or a wisdom figure, but she was open to talking with me for this article so I could remind myself why I admire her as my elder (she has 84 to my 76 years). 

As a history teacher, she was always helpful to students, but also demanding of excellence in their work. She brought a breadth of knowledge to classes in medieval and world history, but also as a promoter of women’s history. Long before retiring, Fran began volunteering at her parish in Cincinnati as a member of the bereavement committee, an acolyte, and a Eucharistic minister. She frequently makes herself available for parishioners’ funerals. 

Her generosity and hospitality have won admiration from friends and family. After the death of both Harmon parents, Fran’s in-laws, she organized a family dinner for her husband and his siblings every January to honor and remember them. Since most of the Harmon clan (there are 11) live near Cincinnati, the dinner table expands nearly into the hallway. Everyone contributes to the meal, but Fran, as founder of this tradition, sets the tone: “Anything we talk about has to relate to Mom and Dad.” 

Beyond her devotion to family, what I cherish most is her faithfulness to the Catholic Church, especially her promotion of social justice. Even in “these troubled times” in the Church, she remains patiently optimistic, realizing as a historian that “things change slowly.” 

“I could never leave the Church as some of my family and my friends have,” she says. “All my life, my faith has been important to me. It’s what sustains me.” 

Pushed by me to articulate a philosophy of life, she distilled it to one word: gratitude. 

That trait may be the key to my personal reckoning with ageism. I can begin to articulate to myself and to young people how thankful I am to be alive and as active as I am at 76. Pope Francis’ call for an “alliance between generations” is echoed in the WHO’s research showing that “intergenerational contact” is one of “the most effective interventions for reducing ageism.” As an elder who interacts daily with college students, I am perfectly positioned to begin the work of reducing unconscious ageism. 

Calling out my students on their biases never works, but I can model for them what it looks like to be active in mind and in body. 

Just as important, I can be transparent. Rather than being coy when they ask how old I am, from now on I will reply with zest: “Probably about as old as your grandmother—and proud of it.” 

So, really, it was Anthony of Padua who launched our ministry. But in the Franciscan tradition, Anthony will always be the Garfunkel to Francis’ Simon—even third if you consider St. Clare. And this is puzzling, considering he’s our first stop when we lose anything: our wallets, our watches, even our minds as we’re looking. But there are three characteristics of this beloved Portuguese saint that we can try to emulate. 

Anthony, the Austere. “Jesus said to him, ‘If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to [the] poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.’ When the young man heard this statement, he went away sad, for he had many possessions” (Mt 19:21–22). 

Anthony seemed to be galvanized by this story. Like Francis, he was born into a family of great means, but he gave it up to live an austere life rooted in the Gospel. While giving up all our possessions isn’t always possible, let us pray for Anthony to help us find the balance to give away what we can, keep only what we need, and follow God with a lighter load. 

Anthony, the Superhero. Consider this: Anthony of Padua died in 1231 and was canonized in less than a year—besting even Francis’ fast track to sainthood. At Anthony’s canonization, Pope Gregory IX called him the “Ark of the Testament” and the “Repository of Holy Scripture.” Centuries later, in 1946, Pope Pius XII declared Anthony a doctor of the Church. All this for a man who only lived to be 36! It’s silly to suggest that any one of us might achieve—in life or in death—what Anthony was able to, but that shouldn’t intimidate us from trying. In smaller ways, we can use his life as a model for how to be a repository of the good news as well as its messenger. 

Anthony, the Preacher. A famous quote attributed to this saint is, “Actions speak louder than words; let your words teach and your actions speak.” I love the boots-on-the-ground simplicity of this evangelical instruction. Anthony was a born communicator—a talent even Francis understood from afar. 

In fact, so effective was he at preaching that folklore began to surround his talents. One such legend involved Anthony preaching in the Italian city of Rimini. The townspeople were uninterested in what he had to say, so he directed his words to the fish of a nearby river, who listened intently. Anthony is supposed to have said: “How blessed is the Creator! For the fishes give God more honor and praise than the heretics do!” Though we may not have Anthony’s knack for preaching, we can rely on the saint to help us to find purpose when we are met with indifference and to face aggression with compassion. 

God’s Chosen 

While St. Francis and St. Clare provided the building blocks for their movement, it was the women and men who followed them—Anthony of Padua, Bernard of Quintavalle, Agnes of Assisi, to name but a few—who put their vision into motion. 

It is our job to keep that work going as heirs to the tradition. And though we may never have the skills to enrapture man or beast with our mastery of Scripture, perhaps the best thing we can do is to pray for St. Anthony of Padua to help us find the right words.

As tough as it was to hurt when my children hurt, that painful empathy was nothing compared to the challenges of being a parent of adult children when they are in trouble, suffering, or hopeless. I hear the pain in their voices, the distress in their words, yet time and again I can “do” nothing to fix it—except offering to pray for them. Thank God that’s the best thing I can do! 

Holding anyone I love in prayer is perhaps the hardest of all weights to carry, even more difficult than going through the suffering myself. By bringing the situation or the person in need directly to God, I also join the communion of saints in praying for them. This is a powerful prayer! Without using theological jargon, hearing my grandmother’s compassionate prayers for others taught me intercessory prayer. 

A Manifestation of Genuine Love

This may sound commonsensical, but prayers of intercession are not the same as prayers for myself. In intercessory prayer, I’m not asking for any sort of personal favor. Instead, I speak to God on behalf of another and their petition, be it a person, situation, or a community. In this way, reflecting on someone else and interceding for them is a manifestation of genuine love for another. 

Intercessory prayer also reminds me that I am not in charge, that more often than not, there is nothing that I can “do” for someone in need. 

But intercession is not only praying for someone else’s needs. It is holding that person or situation in prayer—with trust and confidence that God will take care of all, and that whatever happens next, it will all be well. It’s an intimate petition to our Father in heaven. This is praying to the Father as Jesus did. 

A Long-Standing Tradition

Intercessory prayers are a long-standing practice in the Christian and Hebrew traditions. Both Moses and Abraham, for example, interceded several times on behalf of the Jewish people to the Lord, pleading for him to show once again his love and mercy. In Genesis (18: 16–33), Abraham persistently intercedes with God to save the evil city of Sodom, where his nephew Lot and Lot’s family resided. 

There are many instances of Moses’ intercessory prayers as he led the Israelites out of captivity and into the desert. After crossing the Red Sea, for instance, the people grumbled because they were thirsty. Moses “appealed to the Lord” for them, and God provided them instantly with fresh water (Ex 15:25). When the people built themselves a molten calf and pronounced it as their god, Moses once again interceded on their behalf before an angry Lord: “Why, O Lord, should your anger burn against your people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt with great power and with a strong hand? Remember [your promise] . . . ‘I will give your descendants as their perpetual heritage’” (Ex 32:11, 13). 

From its beginning, the church of Christian believers interceded in prayer—for people, for safe travel, for spiritual growth, for healing, for understanding. In the Gospel of John, for example, Jesus himself assures us of his own intercession on our behalf: “And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you always” (Jn 14:16). He also showed us how to do it: “I do not ask that you take them out of the world but that you keep them from the evil one” (Jn 17:15). Even from the cross, Jesus advocates and intercedes on behalf of those who persecuted him—and, indeed, for all of us who have turned away from him: “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do” (Lk 23:34). 

The letters of St. Paul are replete with his constant intercessory prayers for the struggling new church communities, as well as the saint’s requests for their prayers on his personal behalf. And he instructs all believers to pray for one another: “First of all, then, I ask that supplications, prayers, petitions, and thanksgivings be offered for everyone. . . . This is good and pleasing to God our savior” (1 Tm 2:1, 3). 

Prayer

For our world, Lord, we pray:  
May we recognize you in one another. 
For our local communities, we pray:  
May we choose the common good  
and reject evil. 
For our families, we pray:  
May we be comfort to all who need physical, emotional, or spiritual healing.