"Ad Usam"

Guest writer, Rev. Ronald J. Nuzzi, Senior Director, The Mary Ann Remick Leadership Program, Alliance for Catholic Education, University of Notre Dame

Oblate priest Father Ron Rolheiser tells a delightful story about his seminary days, during which many books and materials were given him for the purpose of education and formation for priesthood. Into each book, Rolheiser reports, seminarians were required to write the Latin words Ad Usam, meaning “for use.” Never their name or address, or even the class the text was for. Only the words ad usam.

The exercise proved instructive as a way to understand what we would today call stewardship, an often neglected aspect of the spiritual life. We speak rather easily of ownership in all things-my job, my house, my family, my desk, my computer, my children, my parents, my money, my reputation. The possessive adjective “my” falls easily off the lips without as much of a hint of the possibility that it might be otherwise.

And who would quibble with me, standing at the door of my office, next to the name plate announcing and protecting my space? No one would dare presume to drive my car or make a call on my cell phone without asking permission first. After all, these things belong to me.

While the ownership question is a bit different when it comes to people rather than things, we persist in using the same language. My sister and my parents are not, of course, my property. When mothers and fathers speak of their children, they do not intend to suggest that their offspring are mere possessions. The possessive is directed at distinguishing family groups from one another. Though not my possessions, my children are not your children.

And the quality of that relationship, of certain individuals being related to me, creates a different set of expectations when it comes to social and civic engagements. For example, we say things like, “I will decide what is best for my children,” or perhaps, “as long as you live under my roof, you will follow these rules.”

We have this deep-seated understanding that things actually belong to us, that we own them. We have a way of dealing with loved ones that suggests a priority of our relationship and a set of obligations to accompany that relationship. We easily forget the essential truth, alluded to in today’s Gospel, that we are but stewards of God’s creation. What we call ours is really God’s, given to us for a short time.

In reflective moments or theological discourse, we may even acknowledge this truth. In prayer, it may come to us as a graced insight. But in the routine of everyday life, we place our markers around people and things, labeling them “mine” so as to separate them from “yours.”

But if we could see as God sees, if we could see the universe as God sees it, we would adopt a new language with a more universal reach. We would see one human family, brothers and sister in Lord, all having come from God, all returning to God. And we would see the goods of this earth as God’s bounty, never our own, given to us ad usam. We are stewards, not owners.