To conclude this episode, which had threatened the existence of the Oblates, I would like to jump ahead by a year to let Leflon conclude the history for us.
Finally, now that the internal situation had been cleared up, peace and unity were restored. Like any true Provencal, the Founder knew the fury of the Mistral wind has to blow itself out before the return of the warm sunshine can be expected. After such a violent upheaval, wisdom advised leaving to time, God’s providential helper, the task of slowly settling everything back in place. An indiscreet and hasty uproar, far from re-establishing order, would have had the opposite effect of throwing everything into confusion.
And yet, Father de Mazenod fully realized that his duties as vicar-general were still posing a threat; they had been the basis of the whole trouble. No doubt, by separating “the straw from the good grain,” as he put it, the crisis of 1823 eliminated those who had been fomenting dissension by claiming that the dignity of archdeacon was contrary to the humble status of a religious, and that the exercise of this office was detrimental to the interests of the Missionaries of Provence. No doubt, also, the Founder could honestly swear before God and before his brothers that he did not merit the criticism of the carpers; having repeatedly refused the honor of vicar-general, in fact, even the honor of a bishop, in order to conform to his vocation and devote himself entirely to his Society, he was so thoroughly convinced that he could remain faithful to the first and serve the best interests of the second by helping Bishop Fortuné to administer the diocese that it never even occurred to him to consult his confreres before yielding to the urging of his uncle. Besides, Fortuné had made his nephew’s collaboration a conditio sine qua non of his acceptance of the see of Saint Lazarus in view of his old age. Agreeing to that condition was the only sure means of assuring, and providentially so, the indispensable protection of a Provence bishop for the infant and beleaguered Missionary Society. Far from creating the least misunderstanding between himself and his missionaries by accepting the post of vicar-general, the Founder felt that he was providing them with a means of security which could not but cause them to rejoice. Besides, he felt that his authority gave him the right to decide such a clear-cut case without resorting to a democratic procedure for which he had no special fondness.
As things turned out, however, the case was far less clear-cut and the authoritarian method, on that occasion, was far less satisfactory than he had taken for granted; this being so, he honestly admitted his mistake and rectified it with an especially meritorious act of humility by leaving the decision up to the missionaries who had remained loyal to him. On September 30, 1824, he convened a general chapter at the motherhouse at Aix and, after a day of penance and prayer, he requested the Chapter to decide the following: Is it or is it not in the best interests of the Society that the Superior-General and Father Tempier continue to carry out their duties as vicars-general to Bishop de Mazenod, the Bishop of Marseilles? By secret ballot, each one was to decide freely and as his conscience dictated. The result of the balloting proved that unanimity, fortunately, had been restored. Without a single exception, the capitulants “spontaneously and unanimously approved what the Founder had done, thereby confirming the harmony of mind and heart which reigned between the father of the family and his sons.”
Thus ended the internal crisis as well as the misunderstanding which had provoked it.
Leflon II p.252
“Acceptance of what has happened is the first step to overcoming the consequences of any misfortune.” William James
I find myself still a little caught up in yesterdays writings. Life is so different today than it was 200 years ago and yet still very much the same. The self flagellation is disturbing and yet it seemed to be the practice of the time and I ask myself what was behind that. It was so – extreme! But interestingly enough I have a few friends that think my life is a “little extreme”. Maybe it’s all in how you look at it. And I need to ask myself if I have found a way to flagellate myself somehow. How do I beat myself up? When I look at myself, as a sinner do I judge and condemn or do I look through the eyes of my Saviour? There is a difference. So I hesitate to judge Eugene. He was pretty extreme and pretty human. Today’s writings really emphasize that. I believe that is part of why I love Eugene so much. He was not – ever – perfect! Funny, but it is in reading and reflecting on Eugene that I find myself accepting a little more easily my own humanness, my own weaknesses and failings, along with the good and the loving.
I smile this morning at Eugene, he was so sure of himself, striding ahead on a path that was certainly clear to him, but less so to others. It seems that it was a shock to him that others did not immediately see and understand and agree with what he was about and why. To take it to his community, these men who he loved as a father loves, who felt called to follow him and this way of life – that was risky. It is never a sure thing to ask others what they think and discern – for there is always the risk that you just might find out if you ask, that not everyone is in agreement with you. He took the risk though.
It could not have been an easy time for any of them. How can I apply any of this to my life? Today is Ash Wednesday and when I awoke I thought well Lent has begun. What will this Lent look like in my life? I thought, think of what I wrote yesterday, and I have no idea of where I am going with it. I think of St. Eugene – he could have been satisfied with just becoming a priest, a regular parish priest and pastor, doing many good works and helping many people. But that’s not what God had in mind for him. He had to listen to God’s voice and pursue that call with everything that he was. I believe that we are all called to live that way, to follow the call, the quiet voice whispering to “Come”, the invitation to give our all. Do I start out this Lent with the easy [for me] road, doing good works [which of course will be seen and acknowledged] or do I listen to that quiet invitation, that whisper of love? Is there any real question? I think the only answer is in and with prayer.