By Sister Mary Alma, C.K.
“Ut Christus Regnet, that Christ may reign!” proclaimed Bishop Glennon Patrick Flavin at one of our weekly conferences. “This is my motto, and it is your motto, too.”
As a novice in the religious community of the School Sisters of Christ the King, his sweeping statement surprised me. “A motto is a personal thing,” I countered internally.
A motto is something that states a person’s deepest beliefs and purpose. It helps a person have the courage and strength to live fully and finish strong in life. While I had no doubt that “Ut Christus Regnet” was Bishop Flavin’s motto, in truth it was not yet mine.
I would have been hard put to declare a motto at the time. I just knew I loved Jesus. Letting Christ reign struck me as something above and beyond my heartfelt admiration of our Lord, and indeed it was. I was not yet ready to be dethroned.
My early impression of Bishop Flavin was that of a larger-than-life, gregarious, joyful, and decisive man. I noticed that, at diocesan gatherings, he would be the last to leave, staying to chat and laugh with the many who flocked around him. How surprised I was one day when Father James Divis, his master of ceremonies and one of our favorite teachers, told me that Bishop Flavin really preferred quiet, prayer, and solitude to the sociable life. I believed Father Divis, for I could see that Bishop Flavin had depth, yet I was puzzled. A preference for quietude did not seem to line up with what I witnessed of his outgoing and expressive bearing.
Similarly, it seemed to me that Bishop Flavin had energy in perpetuity. I thought him to be a Paul-Bunyan-like man who could stride through the daunting labors and challenges of life, whistling a happy tune. This perception—and its perceiver—grew up on the day of the phone call.
I had been asked by my religious superior to deliver a phone message to Bishop Flavin. I don’t remember what the message was about, though it was a very unusual request that such a whippersnapper as I make the call. It was the one and only time in my life I ever called Bishop Flavin.
When he answered the phone that day, to my astonishment, he sounded worn and tired. “Did I have the right number?” I wondered. There was no mistake. As soon as he knew it was me, his tone instantly changed to one of energetic enthusiasm.
“It is a choice!” I thought in an avalanche of insight. “He is making a choice to be joyful, even though he is exhausted. It is just like he makes a choice to stay and talk with everyone when he would probably rather go home. He is choosing charity for others above his own natural preferences and feelings.”
All this I mused interiorly, while stumbling to verbalize my superior’s message. “A life of continually choosing the good and service of others over self? Losing an arm or a leg would be easier!” I was beginning to understand what “Ut Christus Regnet” really meant, and who Bishop Flavin really was.
Bishop Flavin’s life taught me that to choose Christ’s reign over self is to make the choice to love daily, be it in things as big as leading a diocese or as small as answering a phone call. Though choosing Christ’s reign may have frequently cost Bishop Flavin his natural preferences, it never cost him his joy. His joy was authentic and blessed, something that no person, or stressful situation (and he had plenty of those) could ever take from him.
In fact, Bishop Flavin was one of the happiest persons I ever met. I really can’t think of anyone I know who surpassed him. We Sisters were with him the afternoon before he died, and though filled with cancer and very weak, he was still smiling, and even wanted us to sing!
I have now been in religious life for 40 years, and at least sincerely desire to be off the throne of self-will. I want Christ’s will to be done so that His Kingdom may come. “Ut Christus Regnet, that Christ may reign” is my motto! I have experienced that the more I live it, the happier I become. I’ll probably take up whistling soon!
Thank you, Bishop Flavin for the joy of Christ’s reign. Please pray for us.
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From the Register: In November, the Church encourages us to remember and pray for the souls who have gone before us. As part of that effort, the Register presents a special project called “Echoes of Faith: Remembering Our Catholic Inspiration.”
