There's a line in today's first reading that just fits so well with today's saint (Thomas Aquinas). Following on yesterday's prophecy of a dynasty or "house", "the King went in and sat before the Lord." That contemplative "going in" and just sitting in the Lord's presence is what King David and St Thomas had in common. What we find in the Psalms and in the Summa is the "contemplata" of these two men of God, according to the Dominican ideal "contemplata tradere aliis" (to hand on to others what has been contemplated).
The contemplative dimension of Christian life--any Christian life, not just the consecrated religious life--seems to have gotten relegated to the notion of an option, but it isn't. We can't live even a fully human life without the dimension of reflectiveness.
How do you protect or carve out a space for that "sitting with the Lord" in your daily life? Is it with a morning coffee ritual? A prayerful commute? A prayer corner in the house that you really use as such?
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
If the Sower went out today
If the parable of the Sower seems mightily familiar to you, it is because we have three renditions of it in the Gospel: Matthew, Mark and Luke all include the little story of the Sower, the seed and the harvest (from zero to 60 in one season). Given our technological society (didn't Apple just announce its newest must-have?), I thought a little update would be in order.
Ahem.
A driver was going to make a call. At the first intersection (it was a long red light; this driver doesn't try to actually make calls while driving), there was only one bar, and though there was a connection, it dropped right away and the call was lost. At the second intersection (a railroad crossing with the gates down), there were two bars. The phone rang, but the voices went in and out and the other side hung up. The third attempt came in a parking lot. There were four bars, and the call was answered with enthusiasm. But before the conversation could even get anywhere, the other party said, "Look, it's great talking with you, but something just came up. I'll get back to you." But the fourth call (at a rest stop along the interstate) was made on five bars, and there was mutual delight in hearing the other's voice, and lives were changed forever.
How many bars on your prayer-life's phone?
Ahem.
A driver was going to make a call. At the first intersection (it was a long red light; this driver doesn't try to actually make calls while driving), there was only one bar, and though there was a connection, it dropped right away and the call was lost. At the second intersection (a railroad crossing with the gates down), there were two bars. The phone rang, but the voices went in and out and the other side hung up. The third attempt came in a parking lot. There were four bars, and the call was answered with enthusiasm. But before the conversation could even get anywhere, the other party said, "Look, it's great talking with you, but something just came up. I'll get back to you." But the fourth call (at a rest stop along the interstate) was made on five bars, and there was mutual delight in hearing the other's voice, and lives were changed forever.
How many bars on your prayer-life's phone?
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
St Timothy the Timid?
So today is the feast of SS Timothy and Titus, Paul's right and left-hand men in the field. Poor Timothy! We hear Paul tell him things like "Don't let anyone look down on you because of your youth"; "the Spirit God has given us is no cowardly Spirit"; we hear about his "frequent illnesses"... To be quite frank, Timothy comes across as a bit of a wuss.
And yet here was a man who willingly accepted circumcision that he and Paul both knew was unnecessary in terms of faith--but vital if he was to join Paul in his missionary life (as soon as he was up to it!). He is credited as co-author of some of Paul's most prominent letters. Paul could send him back to troubled communities, and know they would be in good hands. He could even patch things up between Paul and those same communities when there had been a falling-out. And we have evidence that Timothy followed Paul in enduring "chains and hardship for the Gospel," because the end of the letter to the Hebrews (whose author only God knows), we learn "our brother Timothy has been released. If he arrives soon, I will come with him to see you."
But I have yet to hear that in a homily.
And yet here was a man who willingly accepted circumcision that he and Paul both knew was unnecessary in terms of faith--but vital if he was to join Paul in his missionary life (as soon as he was up to it!). He is credited as co-author of some of Paul's most prominent letters. Paul could send him back to troubled communities, and know they would be in good hands. He could even patch things up between Paul and those same communities when there had been a falling-out. And we have evidence that Timothy followed Paul in enduring "chains and hardship for the Gospel," because the end of the letter to the Hebrews (whose author only God knows), we learn "our brother Timothy has been released. If he arrives soon, I will come with him to see you."
But I have yet to hear that in a homily.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Happy Feast Day (to us)
It's a bit late by now, but this being both a work day and a Pauline feast day (and a Monday on top of that), the day was full! I prepared a lasagna for our community supper, and we just finished doing the dishes. (But not the lasagna pan, which has plenty of leftovers for tomorrow...) This isn't our "big" St. Paul feast (that would be June 30, a special commemoration of St. Paul just for us), but we celebrate at all opportunities.
The conversion of St. Paul is the only conversion the liturgy recognizes; just one token of how significant that mysterious event was. St. Paul, of course, never speaks of his "conversion," although he certainly does speak like a convert: "my former way of life..."; "I was a blasphemer and a persecutor and a man of arrogance"; "the things I once considered gain, I have reappraised as loss in the light of Christ." He speaks of the event itself as a call, a revelation and a vision ("Have I not seen Jesus our Lord?"): a rich reality that affected him in so many dimensions that he would never stop plumbing its depths and making new discoveries, finding new motives for giving thanks and praise to God: "How deep are the riches and the wisdom and the knowledge of God! Inscrutable his judgments! Unsearchable his ways!"
Tomorrow's feast of Sts Timothy and Titus reminds us that Paul was a networker, and Timothy and Titus (but especially Timothy) were among his best "partners in the Gospel." Paul did not let his powerful experience of Jesus entrance him to such a degree that he had no time for anybody else. Instead, he let Christ live in him, whether in weakness or strength. "What does it matter, as long as Christ is being proclaimed?"
The conversion of St. Paul is the only conversion the liturgy recognizes; just one token of how significant that mysterious event was. St. Paul, of course, never speaks of his "conversion," although he certainly does speak like a convert: "my former way of life..."; "I was a blasphemer and a persecutor and a man of arrogance"; "the things I once considered gain, I have reappraised as loss in the light of Christ." He speaks of the event itself as a call, a revelation and a vision ("Have I not seen Jesus our Lord?"): a rich reality that affected him in so many dimensions that he would never stop plumbing its depths and making new discoveries, finding new motives for giving thanks and praise to God: "How deep are the riches and the wisdom and the knowledge of God! Inscrutable his judgments! Unsearchable his ways!"
Tomorrow's feast of Sts Timothy and Titus reminds us that Paul was a networker, and Timothy and Titus (but especially Timothy) were among his best "partners in the Gospel." Paul did not let his powerful experience of Jesus entrance him to such a degree that he had no time for anybody else. Instead, he let Christ live in him, whether in weakness or strength. "What does it matter, as long as Christ is being proclaimed?"
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Nut Case
Years ago, in a Catholic grade school in New Bedford, MA, a teacher was relating the story of St. Isaac Jogues, the French Jesuit missionary to the Huron in the 1600's. Captured by the Huron's rivals, Jogues was tortured. He survived, and with the help of Dutch Protestants (who had no love for Catholic priests, but couldn't bear to see a European treated that way), Jogues made it back to France. He had to petition the Pope for permission to celebrate Mass with mutilated hands, and with that permission granted, he made his way back across the Atlantic, to serve the Huron people once again.
The teacher had paused to let the martyr's heroism sink in, when a voice came from the back row. "What a nut!"
Today's Gospel is an example of one of those passages that Scripture scholars say fit the "criteria of embarrassment" for being 100%, absolutely, positively historical. In it, Mark tells us that Jesus' relatives came "to take him away," convinced that there was just something "not right" about Mary's boy. Michael Card wrote some wonderful lyrics about this: "It seems I've imagined him, all of my life, as the wisest of all of mankind. But if God's holy Wisdom is foolish to men, he must have seemed out of his mind." Card is, of course, drawing on today's Gospel as well as St. Paul's first letter to the Corinthians. Paul warns us that "the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God." If the lives of the saints are any clue, the closer a person comes to God, the nuttier they seem to the cool and detached gaze of the common-sensical.
Paul tells us that, like St. Isaac Jogues, we have to be willing to seem a bit foollish if we want to benefit from all that Jesus has done.
The teacher had paused to let the martyr's heroism sink in, when a voice came from the back row. "What a nut!"
Today's Gospel is an example of one of those passages that Scripture scholars say fit the "criteria of embarrassment" for being 100%, absolutely, positively historical. In it, Mark tells us that Jesus' relatives came "to take him away," convinced that there was just something "not right" about Mary's boy. Michael Card wrote some wonderful lyrics about this: "It seems I've imagined him, all of my life, as the wisest of all of mankind. But if God's holy Wisdom is foolish to men, he must have seemed out of his mind." Card is, of course, drawing on today's Gospel as well as St. Paul's first letter to the Corinthians. Paul warns us that "the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God." If the lives of the saints are any clue, the closer a person comes to God, the nuttier they seem to the cool and detached gaze of the common-sensical.
Paul tells us that, like St. Isaac Jogues, we have to be willing to seem a bit foollish if we want to benefit from all that Jesus has done.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Purple Vestments
As I am writing this, the annual March for Life is going on in Washington. Tens of thousands of peaceful (and mostly youthful) marchers are making their way around the Capitol toward the Suprem
e Court building. It's not ideal timing for this sort of thing. For one, it's winter. And it's a workday, not a weekend when there might be more people around to witness the spectacle, and more people free enough to participate. But they're out there to make their annual statement.
But statements are not enough.
Today, the anniversary of the Supreme Court's "abortion decision," is a purple vestment day at Mass. If it's a bit jolting to see the vestments of penitence outside of Lent and Advent, it should be: the bishops of the US have established this anniversary as a day of penance and reparation for sins against life.
A day of penance calls for self-examination. It invites us to ask ourselves how we frame the issue of abortion in our own mind and how active a stance we take in getting information out about life-saving services. Not every family can do what Sr Bernadette's brother and his wife did: give a place in their home to a needy mother. But clearly more needs to be done, and (judging from this search) there are opportunities of all shapes and sizes.
The purple at Mass is supposed to remind us to actually do penance: to express grief, repentance, a sense of corporate regret and a willingness to get personally involved in undoing the effects of the ruling. Those effects have become so mainstream that it is estimated that 43% of American women have had at least one abortion. Which means that if you don't know anyone who has had an abortion, statistically speaking (as horrible as this is to contemplate) you probably just didn't hear about it. She's there. Now what?
e Court building. It's not ideal timing for this sort of thing. For one, it's winter. And it's a workday, not a weekend when there might be more people around to witness the spectacle, and more people free enough to participate. But they're out there to make their annual statement.But statements are not enough.
Today, the anniversary of the Supreme Court's "abortion decision," is a purple vestment day at Mass. If it's a bit jolting to see the vestments of penitence outside of Lent and Advent, it should be: the bishops of the US have established this anniversary as a day of penance and reparation for sins against life.
A day of penance calls for self-examination. It invites us to ask ourselves how we frame the issue of abortion in our own mind and how active a stance we take in getting information out about life-saving services. Not every family can do what Sr Bernadette's brother and his wife did: give a place in their home to a needy mother. But clearly more needs to be done, and (judging from this search) there are opportunities of all shapes and sizes.
The purple at Mass is supposed to remind us to actually do penance: to express grief, repentance, a sense of corporate regret and a willingness to get personally involved in undoing the effects of the ruling. Those effects have become so mainstream that it is estimated that 43% of American women have had at least one abortion. Which means that if you don't know anyone who has had an abortion, statistically speaking (as horrible as this is to contemplate) you probably just didn't hear about it. She's there. Now what?
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Escape route?
I was rather unsettled, overwhelmed even, by today's readings. Both the first reading (1st Samuel) and the Gospel present situations of peril for God's chosen one. David is threatened by Saul's envy, and Jesus by the triple threat of his adversaries' envy, the demons' displays and the crowds who are ready to stampede in their eagerness to wrest a miracle from him. David withdraws to the wilderness; Jesus withdraws toward the sea and puts things in place for a water escape. (Maybe he had "withdrawn to the sea" to pray. So many people "find God in nature," all the more woudl he "through whom all things were made." David has Jonathan; Jesus has his disciples (good thing some of them had boats!).
And then there's the opening prayer for today's feast of St. Agnes, which highlights the human weakness of this pre-teen martyr: "You choose what the world considers weak to put worldly power to shame." Agnes, too, was in a situation of mortal peril.
Danger, weakness, vulnerability: that's the focus of today's liturgy. The Gospel (and its third century expression in the story of Agnes) promises that we will still "conquer overwhelmingly through him who l0ved us."
And then there's the opening prayer for today's feast of St. Agnes, which highlights the human weakness of this pre-teen martyr: "You choose what the world considers weak to put worldly power to shame." Agnes, too, was in a situation of mortal peril.
Danger, weakness, vulnerability: that's the focus of today's liturgy. The Gospel (and its third century expression in the story of Agnes) promises that we will still "conquer overwhelmingly through him who l0ved us."
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Facing Goliath
Again today, there is a subtle connection between the first reading and the Gospel for the weekday Mass. Not that the Liturgy is explicitly planned that way! We get these same readings paired together every other year; the first reading is something of a continuous reading of the highlights of a section of the Scriptures (in this case, the first Book of Samuel) and the Gospel a more or less continuous reading from the synoptics (in this case, Mark). But sometimes... they work together in a way I never saw before.
Today, for example, we have two confrontations, in which one party seems at a definite disadvantage, and yet conquers through God's power. The first reading has become the classic image of a mismatched fight: David and Goliath. This used to be a favorite Bible story, but now it hardly ever appears in children's Bibles: too violent! But it is a great story for underlining that raw power is ultimately not strong enough to see us through.
David may be young (his offer to King Saul sounds entirely too self-confident), but he has already learned from experience that God is his refuge and strength: he is not self confident at all.
In the Gospel, Jesus has just walked into a trap. His adversaries, hoping to catch him in the act of violating the Sabbath, positioned a helpless man in Jesus' path. If Jesus cured the man, he would be breaking God's law, and so be discredited as a prophet or holy man. Jesus did not bring out a whip the way he did in the Temple. Instead, he turned the tables on his would-be accusers, asking their permission to "do good on the Sabbath." (Their silence at that really got Jesus angry--something we only hear about from Mark!) In response, Jesus turned toward the crippled man and told him, "Stretch out your hand."
Like David, who literally risked his life on God's faithfulness when he went against Goliath, Jesus put his own life on the line in order to restore the health of that unfortunate in the synagogue. (Mark says, "The Pharisees went out and immediately plotted with the Herodians to put him to death.")
Have you faced down a Goliath or two in the Lord's name? How has that made a difference in the way you approach difficulties?
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Man and the Sabbath
There's a "Davidic" link between the two readings for today's Mass. First reading: the anointing of the shepherd boy, David, as future King. Second reading: the Son of David invokes his ancestor's interpretation of the Temple laws to defend his disciples from charges of liturgical disrespect.
And in today's newspaper, a modern-day moment in which the people of Haiti need those words of the Lord, the Son of David to ring out again: Laws are made for man, not man for laws.
It seems that the Haitian police are pulling themselves together and attempting to establish some order amid the chaos and ruins of Port au Prince, but they are doing it a bit backwards, at least in the example I read today. Police stationed themselves around a food store to prevent the crowds from "looting" it. (NB: We're not talking flat-screen TV sets here.)
The hungry people, rightly, insisted on having access to food. (Some of them, unfortunately, also had recourse to hurling rocks.) The police would have better served civic order by doing what some guardians of the law did after Hurricane Katrina: taking control of the food store and seeing to the orderly distribution of much-needed supplies. That would provide two of the things most desperately needed in the situation: food and civility, a start to rebuilding a solid society.
Something else to pray for.
And in today's newspaper, a modern-day moment in which the people of Haiti need those words of the Lord, the Son of David to ring out again: Laws are made for man, not man for laws.
It seems that the Haitian police are pulling themselves together and attempting to establish some order amid the chaos and ruins of Port au Prince, but they are doing it a bit backwards, at least in the example I read today. Police stationed themselves around a food store to prevent the crowds from "looting" it. (NB: We're not talking flat-screen TV sets here.)
The hungry people, rightly, insisted on having access to food. (Some of them, unfortunately, also had recourse to hurling rocks.) The police would have better served civic order by doing what some guardians of the law did after Hurricane Katrina: taking control of the food store and seeing to the orderly distribution of much-needed supplies. That would provide two of the things most desperately needed in the situation: food and civility, a start to rebuilding a solid society.
Something else to pray for.
Monday, January 18, 2010
The Battle of the Wineskins
Yes, today's Gospel is the famous "wineskins" passage from Mark. Jesus' disciples (and implicitly Jesus himself) have been weighed on the scales of devotion and found wanting because, unlike the disciples of John the Baptist and the Pharisees, Jesus' followers are not exactly noteworthy for their ascetical practices. They don't even fast!
In the first reading, from the First Book of Samuel in the Old Testament, King Saul is berated (and ultimately condemned to lose the crown) for the opposite problem: he was so zealous to offer impressive sacrifices to the Lord that he let his men take the best animals from the vanquished Amalekites and offer them up--instead of destroying them under the "ban of destruction" as commanded. (I suppose Saul couldn't stand the thought of wasting those perfectly good animals.)
While the whole concept of a "ban of destruction" (basically a "scorched earth policy") is abhorrent to us today (though it is still practiced), it could be that God's command was an attempt to bring Saul and the people a step closer to "worship in spirit and truth" that would not involve destruction and animal sacrifices. But that was like sewing fresh cloth on an old garment: Saul overruled God's explicit command in order to bring God what God did not want in the first place (and what Psalm 40 would later say that God "did not delight in" anyway).
The old approach to sacrifice that Saul clung to (and that Jesus' questioners also presume) is that it is the object offered (whether in sacrifice or in self-discipline) that wins God favor. The new wine is that obedience to God's command (a form of God's self-expression) is the surrender, gift, offering, sacrifice of the person in their interiority given to God himself.
Remember the Morning Offering? It encapsulates that gift of self, and puts it (right where it belongs!) in the context of the complete gift that Jesus makes to the Father (and to us) in the Mass!
In the first reading, from the First Book of Samuel in the Old Testament, King Saul is berated (and ultimately condemned to lose the crown) for the opposite problem: he was so zealous to offer impressive sacrifices to the Lord that he let his men take the best animals from the vanquished Amalekites and offer them up--instead of destroying them under the "ban of destruction" as commanded. (I suppose Saul couldn't stand the thought of wasting those perfectly good animals.)
While the whole concept of a "ban of destruction" (basically a "scorched earth policy") is abhorrent to us today (though it is still practiced), it could be that God's command was an attempt to bring Saul and the people a step closer to "worship in spirit and truth" that would not involve destruction and animal sacrifices. But that was like sewing fresh cloth on an old garment: Saul overruled God's explicit command in order to bring God what God did not want in the first place (and what Psalm 40 would later say that God "did not delight in" anyway).
The old approach to sacrifice that Saul clung to (and that Jesus' questioners also presume) is that it is the object offered (whether in sacrifice or in self-discipline) that wins God favor. The new wine is that obedience to God's command (a form of God's self-expression) is the surrender, gift, offering, sacrifice of the person in their interiority given to God himself.
Remember the Morning Offering? It encapsulates that gift of self, and puts it (right where it belongs!) in the context of the complete gift that Jesus makes to the Father (and to us) in the Mass!
Saturday, January 16, 2010
One of those days!
I got ... some things done today, but not exactly what I had been counting on. (For instance, I was going to blog eloquently and deeply about the Scriptures... but I am working on a project for an Easter book, so I spent more time meditating the Gospel for Wednesday of the 5th Week of Easter than I did today's readings!) I had to do a special project (an audio CD with the Apostles' Creed and the Anima Christi) and that took some... editing. And following up on two conference calls yesterday, I ended up exploring Google Wave. Which looks like just the thing for the work at hand! Unfortunately, I didn't make any explicit progress on my series of talks on the Mass for Our Lady of Mt Carmel. (My books, notes and even laptop are still piled up on the 3rd floor, waiting to take over the conference room table again--all week!!!) (When I do writing projects, I tend to use a lot of real estate.)
And just a minute ago I almost lost what I have in this post!
Heavens, it really is time to go to chapel! Blessings on your Sunday rest!
And just a minute ago I almost lost what I have in this post!
Heavens, it really is time to go to chapel! Blessings on your Sunday rest!
Friday, January 15, 2010
Is the Bible contemporary?
Someone once asked me why, in the Liturgy of the Hours, we only use the Psalms (and canticles) from the Bible, and not other texts. Occasionally you also hear people comment that "other" books ought to be used for the Liturgy of the Word at Mass; we've heard those same biblical readings so many times, we need something different.
This evening at Vespers, Psalm 46 spoke so clearly to the situation in Haiti, it would have been impossible not to pray it in the name of those suffering people: God is for us a refuge and strength, a helper close at hand in time of distress. So we shall not fear, though the earth should rock...
I remember during the worst of the genocide in Rwanda and Burundi that it was Psalm 79 that fit the situation to a "T": They have poured out blood like water...; no one is left to bury the dead.
Yes, we do pray the same Psalms over and over in the Liturgy; hear the same Scriptures year after year at Mass. But every time we do, we are hearing them from a world that is different, so that those "same old" readings are addressing new situations, and the Psalms are giving us words for prayers that, until now, had never really entered our hearts.
This evening at Vespers, Psalm 46 spoke so clearly to the situation in Haiti, it would have been impossible not to pray it in the name of those suffering people: God is for us a refuge and strength, a helper close at hand in time of distress. So we shall not fear, though the earth should rock...
I remember during the worst of the genocide in Rwanda and Burundi that it was Psalm 79 that fit the situation to a "T": They have poured out blood like water...; no one is left to bury the dead.
Yes, we do pray the same Psalms over and over in the Liturgy; hear the same Scriptures year after year at Mass. But every time we do, we are hearing them from a world that is different, so that those "same old" readings are addressing new situations, and the Psalms are giving us words for prayers that, until now, had never really entered our hearts.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Praying for Haiti
This child-safety net program offers insightful ways to pray for the people of Haiti.
The Devil and Disaster
Death and destruction in Haiti. An archbishop crushed to death, a cathedral in ruins, wounded and shell-shocked people with nowhere to go.
Is this the work of the devil?
We've heard similar pronouncements before. Hurricane Katrina, for example, was a divine chastisement for the sins of New Orleans.
With so much suffering unfolding in Haiti, so many of our neighbors worrying and wondering about their relatives there, it comes second nature to assign disaster to the devil. No believer really wants to blame God for it, after all. We only want to attribute nice things to God. And power. Lots of power. Because then we can feel safe and secure in this world. (“God is on our side!”)
It's an old temptation. Today's first reading at Mass related a disastrous defeat the ancient Israelites suffered in battle. Not exactly a theological problem. Except that team Israel had attempted to secure victory against the Philistines by bringing the Ark of the Covenant to the battlefield, thinking to use God's power as a shield. God's self-esteem, they figured, would prevent the Ark from being profaned.
They figured wrong. God took the defeat very well.
That's the strange thing about God as revealed in the Bible. This God, for all the thunder and lightning and signs and wonders, is most fully present in tiny whisperings, like the faint breath that the prophet Elijah heard in the cave when God came close.
We should know this, too, having just passed the Christmas season! There we found God, not in a gold-covered Ark, but in a stable outside of a town known only for being insignificant. Later, when he said that the poor and the meek and those in sorrow were blessed, he meant it. He himself was poor and meek and sorrowing.
Maybe our image of God isn't vast enough to encompass a God who can not only bring good out of evil, but chooses to identify (in “distressing disguise,” Mother Teresa said) with those who suffer.
Which God do we believe in? A God so weak that all suffering is the sure sign of the devil's hand, or a God who is weak with his weakest children?
This post is also featured in the Chicago Tribune's blog, "The Seeker." Please add your reflections in the comments there.
Is this the work of the devil?
We've heard similar pronouncements before. Hurricane Katrina, for example, was a divine chastisement for the sins of New Orleans.
With so much suffering unfolding in Haiti, so many of our neighbors worrying and wondering about their relatives there, it comes second nature to assign disaster to the devil. No believer really wants to blame God for it, after all. We only want to attribute nice things to God. And power. Lots of power. Because then we can feel safe and secure in this world. (“God is on our side!”)
It's an old temptation. Today's first reading at Mass related a disastrous defeat the ancient Israelites suffered in battle. Not exactly a theological problem. Except that team Israel had attempted to secure victory against the Philistines by bringing the Ark of the Covenant to the battlefield, thinking to use God's power as a shield. God's self-esteem, they figured, would prevent the Ark from being profaned.
They figured wrong. God took the defeat very well.
That's the strange thing about God as revealed in the Bible. This God, for all the thunder and lightning and signs and wonders, is most fully present in tiny whisperings, like the faint breath that the prophet Elijah heard in the cave when God came close.
We should know this, too, having just passed the Christmas season! There we found God, not in a gold-covered Ark, but in a stable outside of a town known only for being insignificant. Later, when he said that the poor and the meek and those in sorrow were blessed, he meant it. He himself was poor and meek and sorrowing.
Maybe our image of God isn't vast enough to encompass a God who can not only bring good out of evil, but chooses to identify (in “distressing disguise,” Mother Teresa said) with those who suffer.
Which God do we believe in? A God so weak that all suffering is the sure sign of the devil's hand, or a God who is weak with his weakest children?
This post is also featured in the Chicago Tribune's blog, "The Seeker." Please add your reflections in the comments there.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Inside look
The Boston Globe did a human interest story about the Lebanese seamstress who makes our habits! (You'll get glimpses of several of our blogging nuns in the video.)
Monday, January 11, 2010
Good Timing
Ordinary Time begins today, and (how fitting is this) the Gospel is the beginning of Jesus' public ministry. And he begins with the declaration that "This is the fullness of time: the Kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe!"
I found a whole page full of "Prophet of Doom" cartoons. You know, "Repent! The end is near!" None of them say a thing about the fullness of time. And yet Jesus' words imply that we need to repent not because of impending doom, but because without repentance, we won't be able to take in all the fullness that is bursting in our midst. Unrepentant, we are just too small.
If the "fullness of time" was inaugurated with the coming of Jesus (as Paul says it was) and "all fullness resides in him," then saying "the fullness of time," "the Kingdom of God" and "Jesus" are all the same message! It is still the fullness of time! Repent and believe!
I found a whole page full of "Prophet of Doom" cartoons. You know, "Repent! The end is near!" None of them say a thing about the fullness of time. And yet Jesus' words imply that we need to repent not because of impending doom, but because without repentance, we won't be able to take in all the fullness that is bursting in our midst. Unrepentant, we are just too small.
If the "fullness of time" was inaugurated with the coming of Jesus (as Paul says it was) and "all fullness resides in him," then saying "the fullness of time," "the Kingdom of God" and "Jesus" are all the same message! It is still the fullness of time! Repent and believe!
Saturday, January 09, 2010
Saturday, TOB day
Where have I been? Under the weather and overwhelmed! (Well, maybe just a little of each.)
Today we had our usual Theology of the Body session. Only two Chicagoans came (besides the presenter), and half as many online participants as usual (representing three or four countries!), but the class was terrific. If you missed it (which is more than likely!), you really missed out. How to present Theology of the Body to young people. By a high school teacher who is a real TOB man. He covered things like an outline of the foundations kids need so they can grasp what the Church teaches; how this message needs to be taught not only by parents, but by at least two other "reinforcing" sources, like the pastor and school; how to talk about virginity in a culture where kids are ashamed of theirs.
Pat Reidy has done some recording with Tabor Life Institute, and (best of all!) he speaks fluent Spanish, so he can also share TOB with the Hispanic community (the future of the American Church).
Anyway, if you have time... Here is today's presentation. Maybe you can join us in real time for February, when (hopefully) we'll have Fr. Loya back.
Today we had our usual Theology of the Body session. Only two Chicagoans came (besides the presenter), and half as many online participants as usual (representing three or four countries!), but the class was terrific. If you missed it (which is more than likely!), you really missed out. How to present Theology of the Body to young people. By a high school teacher who is a real TOB man. He covered things like an outline of the foundations kids need so they can grasp what the Church teaches; how this message needs to be taught not only by parents, but by at least two other "reinforcing" sources, like the pastor and school; how to talk about virginity in a culture where kids are ashamed of theirs.
Pat Reidy has done some recording with Tabor Life Institute, and (best of all!) he speaks fluent Spanish, so he can also share TOB with the Hispanic community (the future of the American Church).
Anyway, if you have time... Here is today's presentation. Maybe you can join us in real time for February, when (hopefully) we'll have Fr. Loya back.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Between the lines
Today's Gospel delights me. Jesus goes to the synagogue, as usual, on the Sabbath. And he is the lector!
The very thought of God reading... reading written language, the brilliant invention of human minds. Well, one thing it makes me want to do is learn Hebrew, just so I can read the very same words that Jesus read that Sabbath in Nazareth when he looked up from the text and announced that those words, already so ancient and revered in his day, were fulfilled.
Even St. Therese wanted to learn Greek so she could read the New Testament without the intermediary of translation.
But as pleasant and pious a desire mine is, it is pretty superficial compared to what the Lord offers us in today's Gospel passage. He isn't merely suggesting that I find communion with him by learning to read the same language he read: he offers me profound communion with himself in the very fulfillment of the prophecy itself! He offers to let those Scriptures be fulfilled today, as he lives in me to "heal the broken-hearted; proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind...to announce a year of favor from the Lord."
And I don't even have to learn the Hebrew alphabet for that. (Although I still really would like to!)
The very thought of God reading... reading written language, the brilliant invention of human minds. Well, one thing it makes me want to do is learn Hebrew, just so I can read the very same words that Jesus read that Sabbath in Nazareth when he looked up from the text and announced that those words, already so ancient and revered in his day, were fulfilled.
Even St. Therese wanted to learn Greek so she could read the New Testament without the intermediary of translation.
But as pleasant and pious a desire mine is, it is pretty superficial compared to what the Lord offers us in today's Gospel passage. He isn't merely suggesting that I find communion with him by learning to read the same language he read: he offers me profound communion with himself in the very fulfillment of the prophecy itself! He offers to let those Scriptures be fulfilled today, as he lives in me to "heal the broken-hearted; proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind...to announce a year of favor from the Lord."
And I don't even have to learn the Hebrew alphabet for that. (Although I still really would like to!)
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Scanning (is) the issue
More talk about activating full body security scanning at O'Hare. Despite all the assurances that the persons monitoring the scans will not be in proximity to the victims, I mean, passengers; that data will not be kept; that it's all really important for public safety, I am not okay with this.
Am I being overly prudish? Hung up? Neurotic?
Isn't thwarting a potentially catastrophic act of terror worth a virtual strip search every time I travel?
What is it that really bothers me, deep down, about this "public safety measure"?
Is it that it is disproportionate, sifting through millions of travelers each week (or day, if you combine US airports that plan to install the equipment) to find one possible evil-doer (who would, of course, have chosen an alternate form of terror by that time)?
No, it's not that.
I'm beginning to realize that it's a theology of the body thing.
I object to full body scanning because I believe that, with the level of detail it offers (even if in silhouette), it violates what Pope John Paul called the spousal meaning of the body. The body's design itself makes it clear that we are meant for an "other", and we generally choose that "other" with care. We are vulnerable in revealing ourselves. Even at the doctor's office, we don't go full frontal unless that is precisely where our health is threatened. (That's why they give you that crazy paper outfit.) Self-revelation in the body is a lovely (in the full sense of the word), intimate gift. Because the body is meant for communion. Always.
It is not true that our body is just a sort of envelope for a sexlessly generic soul, or that it is a strange animal-like appendage to the "important," spiritual part, but that really doesn't matter in itself (although plenty of people in our culture seem to think this). Especially in this Christmas season, on this 12th day of Christmas, we ought to be alert to the tremendous significance of being "bodied persons": God became incarnate so he could relate to us in this very human way! (And, of course, Jesus is the true Spouse who seeks communion with us.)
So there's something really not right, in my book, with a "revelation" that takes place anonymously, apart from personal communion, in which I am being revealed to someone I cannot see or know; whose reaction I cannot gauge; whose trustworthiness with the sacredness of my body's image I am asked to take on the good faith of the United States' Transportation Security Administration.
What is your take on this issue? Would full-body scanning make you think twice about buying a plane ticket through O'Hare?
Am I being overly prudish? Hung up? Neurotic?
Isn't thwarting a potentially catastrophic act of terror worth a virtual strip search every time I travel?
What is it that really bothers me, deep down, about this "public safety measure"?
Is it that it is disproportionate, sifting through millions of travelers each week (or day, if you combine US airports that plan to install the equipment) to find one possible evil-doer (who would, of course, have chosen an alternate form of terror by that time)?
No, it's not that.
I'm beginning to realize that it's a theology of the body thing.
I object to full body scanning because I believe that, with the level of detail it offers (even if in silhouette), it violates what Pope John Paul called the spousal meaning of the body. The body's design itself makes it clear that we are meant for an "other", and we generally choose that "other" with care. We are vulnerable in revealing ourselves. Even at the doctor's office, we don't go full frontal unless that is precisely where our health is threatened. (That's why they give you that crazy paper outfit.) Self-revelation in the body is a lovely (in the full sense of the word), intimate gift. Because the body is meant for communion. Always.
It is not true that our body is just a sort of envelope for a sexlessly generic soul, or that it is a strange animal-like appendage to the "important," spiritual part, but that really doesn't matter in itself (although plenty of people in our culture seem to think this). Especially in this Christmas season, on this 12th day of Christmas, we ought to be alert to the tremendous significance of being "bodied persons": God became incarnate so he could relate to us in this very human way! (And, of course, Jesus is the true Spouse who seeks communion with us.)
So there's something really not right, in my book, with a "revelation" that takes place anonymously, apart from personal communion, in which I am being revealed to someone I cannot see or know; whose reaction I cannot gauge; whose trustworthiness with the sacredness of my body's image I am asked to take on the good faith of the United States' Transportation Security Administration.
What is your take on this issue? Would full-body scanning make you think twice about buying a plane ticket through O'Hare?
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
The core of Revelation
Today's first reading says the same thing about four different ways, but it all comes down to the central statement, "God is love." Love is who God is, and therefore what divine life is all about.
I was reflecting that if we really witnessed to this in our lives, evangelization would be accomplished. There would be none of that empty, sophisticated atheism that pretends to be sheer logic: logic itself would be transcended, along with all the laws, conditions and expectations that we humans tend to think must apply to God. Not that there would be no room for human reason, but that the proof for the existence of God would be manifest to reason itself in the love manifested in the transformed lives of believers. In somewhat the same way, the witness of self-emptying love would remove the sense of scandal that arises in the face of evil, because the image of love would be so much more powerful and impressive that the evidence for love would outweigh everything else.
I was reflecting that if we really witnessed to this in our lives, evangelization would be accomplished. There would be none of that empty, sophisticated atheism that pretends to be sheer logic: logic itself would be transcended, along with all the laws, conditions and expectations that we humans tend to think must apply to God. Not that there would be no room for human reason, but that the proof for the existence of God would be manifest to reason itself in the love manifested in the transformed lives of believers. In somewhat the same way, the witness of self-emptying love would remove the sense of scandal that arises in the face of evil, because the image of love would be so much more powerful and impressive that the evidence for love would outweigh everything else.
Monday, January 04, 2010
Back to "Normal"
How has your New Year begun? Got those resolutions in place? Keep any yet?
With the feast of Epiphany behind us, we are technically in the Christmas Season, but in a rather muted way--especially since the "holidays" are over. So it's back to "normal." Except that for our community, it will still be a few days until we are back to our usual rhythm of life, because we are now in the midst of a visitation with our Provincial. It's a pretty laid-back visitation; we only have one official meeting, and the rest of the time is for the sisters to meet with the provincial one on one. But prayers are always a good idea during such encounters, so I thank you ahead of time.
As things really get back to normal, I need to shift gears from creating posters for the book center (I have one more to do....) to preparing the talks I will be giving throughout Lent, and the retreat conferences for our sisters (summer). It is the sort of thing I totally procrastinate over, because I find it so intimidating--even though I love actually giving the talks! Maybe part of my feeling intimidated is that the topics are so overwhelmingly huge (imagine: Eucharistic spirituality and the call to continual conversion); I don't know where to begin, end or focus! Hopefully, as I get into the actual preparation, do the research and reading, the focus will ... come into focus for me! (What does the Lord want to offer to me and through me on these key topics? That is the question.)
With the feast of Epiphany behind us, we are technically in the Christmas Season, but in a rather muted way--especially since the "holidays" are over. So it's back to "normal." Except that for our community, it will still be a few days until we are back to our usual rhythm of life, because we are now in the midst of a visitation with our Provincial. It's a pretty laid-back visitation; we only have one official meeting, and the rest of the time is for the sisters to meet with the provincial one on one. But prayers are always a good idea during such encounters, so I thank you ahead of time.
As things really get back to normal, I need to shift gears from creating posters for the book center (I have one more to do....) to preparing the talks I will be giving throughout Lent, and the retreat conferences for our sisters (summer). It is the sort of thing I totally procrastinate over, because I find it so intimidating--even though I love actually giving the talks! Maybe part of my feeling intimidated is that the topics are so overwhelmingly huge (imagine: Eucharistic spirituality and the call to continual conversion); I don't know where to begin, end or focus! Hopefully, as I get into the actual preparation, do the research and reading, the focus will ... come into focus for me! (What does the Lord want to offer to me and through me on these key topics? That is the question.)
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