Recognize Resurrection

I heard a great homily recently. The question was asked: why do we tend to remember our “Good Friday” experiences more than the Easter ones? People can usually report the wounds and hurts they’ve been dealt in life.  It’s easy to recall every detail of insults or failures or even simple disappointments.  But what about all the Easter moments?

There’s the friend who speaks just the right words of support. And the sun made visible  after days and days of rain! Easter moments are those when our hearts suddenly feel lighter and we know this comes from God within us. They’re the everyday miracles that occur unexpected and in ways we had never imagined.  The awe-inspiring beauty of nature, encounters with people who are deep-down good, and confidence that life can break forth from the tomb of pain and death—-these are flashes of Easter joy that are real.  May we recognize them!

 

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We Are the Body

“We are one body, the body of Christ, and we do not stand alone.”  Students in our high schools sing this John Michael Talbot song with energy at school liturgies.  It makes audible the unity they strive to live within their school communities.

We ARE the body of Christ–called to connect, support, embrace and love.  I thought of this on Martin Luther King Day. How are we Christ’s body? Cardinal Joseph Tobin remarked recently of the Church, “it’s not the Elks or the good old boys club. This is the body of Christ, and this is where his word is proclaimed and the sacraments are celebrated. I wouldn’t let anybody drive me out of that.”

Yet, the body is a suffering one.  “The racial divide . . . is creating what I call a ‘Corinthians crisis,’ where one part of the body of Christ—Christians of color—is suffering while the white part of the body of Christ is not feeling their pain,” wrote Jim Wallis (The Heresy of Ideological Religion, Sojourners, February 2018).  We do not stand alone.  “Yes, I see the Church as the body of Christ. But, oh! How we have blemished and scarred that body through social neglect and through fear of being nonconformists.” wrote Dr. King.  Makes me seriously ponder . . . .

 

Call Me

Backlit with Joy has been silent for the last few weeks—sorry!  Personal and family challenges usurped precious writing time; unexpected health needs required full attention for a while.  It’s good to be back, and what better time than Advent, season of listening, expectation and hope.

As I begin my Advent pondering, I’m aware of many health professionals I’ve met in the past few weeks. Hospitals are a bit chaotic, and doctors’ offices can seem like caves where one waits stoically with other nameless individuals in various stages of crisis.  The health system in this country is not at all easy to navigate.  But I’ve been deeply moved by individual doctors, nurses or receptionists who take time to listen and don’t succumb to the assembly line push.  How reassuring it’s been to hear someone say, “Call me. If you have a question or concern, call me.”

There’s a spark of God in those who give personal attention to others, a God who is never rushed, always present.  Isn’t it good to know that in this age of impersonal, detached communication, our God says, “Call to me, I will answer you. . . . When I hear your voice, I will listen to you” (Jeremiah 3).  I’m grateful for those who image that action in their own lives, giving compassionate attention to others in the midst of busy schedules.  This Advent, I want to practice being more like them.

Life-giving Vine

A couple of Saturdays ago, four of us Ursulines visited a local vineyard for their autumn festival. It was a rustic place with picnic tables set among many trees.  There was good food, wine tasting, and great camaraderie. Having lived in Italy, I’m always  delighted to see grapevines loaded with fruit at harvest.  They remind me of Jesus’ passion for his mission, “I am the vine, you are the branches,” . . . “You have not chosen me; I have chosen you.”  The vines also stand as vivid symbols of how we  are connected, one to another, in a relationship never diminished but only strengthened by struggle, suffering and a share in the Cross.

The Sonoma County fires in California last night touched our Ursuline family.  Ursuline sisters, colleagues and friends in Santa Rosa have lost homes, property and possessions. Recent hurricanes and earthquakes have affected people we know and love.  Illness and bad news continue to break into our lives and those around us.  But these are not the last word.  We, God’s people,  are a community that stands in solidarity with one another.  Those who endure heartache and pain are supported by a communion that gives strength.  Prayer, words of encouragement, and an attitude that no one ever stands alone bring hope.  St. Paul said: “With Christ I hang upon the Cross, and yet I am alive. . . or rather it is Christ who lives in me.” The Vine is our source of life, as we reach out in love to one another.  How marvelous!

Entering Sacred Space

As summer days start to dwindle and flower gardens wilt, we realize the calendar year is more than half over. Where did it go? There’s a certain frenzy as families of kids and teachers prepare for another school year. The world is still in turmoil and news is propelled by ever-present situations of war, injustice and destruction of the earth. But Advent is less than 4 months away!

Yes, Advent—that season of awareness that God continues to come to this ever-spinning globe. Is it really possible to see the present world as sacred space where God lives among us? Can we see God acting in the events of our own ordinary lives? It’s tempting to let the noise and self-absorption of our culture take over, to act like it all depends on me. That’s why it’s necessary to be quiet and listen for the gentle voice of God.  In the “temple” of our own heart-space, we discover God’s presence and truth.  “Be still and know I am God”—and I am with you.

The end of summer is a good time to choose a more careful nurturing of our contemplative spirit.  Enter that sacred space and be surprised!