Hammering reflection

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I like to begin my day with a cup of tea, some reflective reading, and quiet time with God.

I am slowly working my way through The Listening God by a Trappist nun, Miriam Pollard, OSCO. This morning I sat down for meditation time after reading a beautiful yet down to earth reflection by Sister Miriam. Pondering the “little pains” and “discordant restlessness” we all have in our pockets and on our hearts, she ends by turning to God who says to our most wounded self:

“Give me the self you do not want to be. Give it here. Let it stop squirming and be still in the self I am. Let it sleep my sleep and wake my waking.”

This spoke deeply to me. And so I sat in my favorite spot, holding my warm mug, and closed my eyes to sit with God for a bit before I started my day.. To sit with this giving over of my most wounded and squirmy bits to my loving creator. Breathing in. Breathing out. Peace.

And then.

I had forgotten they are doing road work outside my window. Bursts of rather boisterous jackhammering interrupted my quiet time. My peace. Sigh.

And yet.

Somehow, perhaps because I am becoming more accustomed to the mess and chaos of life these days, I found peace between the boisterous bursts. And humor in the interruptions. And gratitude for those people working on this early morning. And sympathy for neighbors roused from slumber or otherwise disturbed in their morning routines. And loving concern for all those truly suffering these days, lives interrupted by war and violence and illness and death of loved ones.

Once again I learn the lesson that God is with us IN the mess of life, in the noise, the chaos, the pain, the tearing down and building up. God is there, God is here, and so are we.

Jumping into Christ’s Love

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I love this bit in today’s reading from John 21:

“When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he tucked in his garment, for he was lightly clad, and jumped into the sea. The other disciples came in the boat, for they were not far from shore, only about a hundred yards, dragging the net with the fish.”

Peter’s reaction is so human. He has so missed his friend, his teacher. Hearing that Jesus is here, NOW, he can wait no more. He jumps into the sea, fully if lightly clothed. He abandons his task and leaves the job of bringing in the boat and the fish to his companions. He couldn’t wait.

Also of course he must have been remembering how he left things with Jesus. How he denied him not once but three times. How he abandoned him at his most vulnerable. How he lacked the strength. (Nevermind that in his excitement to get to shore he abandons his friends and his job. We are all slow learners.)

“When they climbed out on shore, they saw a charcoal fire with fish on it and bread. Jesus said to them, ‘Bring some of the fish you just caught.’ So Simon Peter went over and dragged the net ashore full of one hundred fifty-three large fish. Even though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, ‘Come, have breakfast.’”

But Jesus never gives up on us, no matter how many times we abandon him or our tasks. He helps Peter remember what is his to do. And he feeds him and all the disciples.

There is a lesson there for all of us slow learners.

Love shall overcome

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Who does not have half their attention elsewhere these days.

The horror facing civilians in Ukraine. The dawning reality of the climate crisis. Political polarization even in families and churches. Racial and economic disparity that seems entrenched and at the same time dismissed.

These are the signs of the times that led my religious Congregation, the Sisters of St Joseph of Peace, to commit in our Chapter Act this week To Be Who We Say We Are.

“Urged by a burning desire to speak and act boldly with open, loving and adventurous hearts, and in collaboration with others, we now commit to:

  • Cultivating and practicing peace through justice by the intentional living of interculturality, anti-racism, and inclusion
  • Addressing, healing, and being present to the wounds and broken relationships among ourselves and all of God’s Creation
  • Resisting every form of war and violence
  • Making a place for everyone at the table where all are welcomed and gifts are honored

It is time to be who we have always said we are. It is time to live our words.  We embrace these promptings of the Spirit with courage, humility, hope and trust.”

As I have prayed with the Chapter experience and these words, the words of the song Free by the Good Shepherd Collective and Liz Vice keep playing in my head and heart. So I did what I do and made a video prayer.

🎵 So let the light in, keep it shining, let it break into the darkness … Love shall overcome 🎵

Margaret Anna Cusack, our founder, said: “The very name Sisters of Peace will, it is hoped, inspire a love and desire for it.”

Bishop Bagshawe, who we claim as a co-founder, told the first Sisters at their profession in 1884: “To secure this divine peace for ourselves and procure its blessing for others in the midst of the sin, turmoil, and restless anxiety of this modern world is the object of your institute.

So on the one hand the task can seem huge and overwhelming. Impossible even. And yet … Love shall overcome. Peace is possible. Peace is God’s gift. A gift to love and desire and work for and share. For then, indeed, we will all be free.

LENT: Wearing Love

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One word keeps coming to me in my prayer these first days of Lent in 2022: Love.

In our first reading today from Leviticus we hear the great commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

I have long wondered if the greatest crisis in our world today isn’t that we don’t realize how much we are, each of us, worthy of love. We are all God’s own beloved. God loved us into being. God calls us to love one another as God has loved us.

This morning I prayed with a booklet created several years ago by a group in my religious Congregation focused on growing in nonviolence. Each week the booklet explores Lent with the Principles of Nonviolence. The principle for the first week of Lent is: Nonviolence chooses love instead of hate.

Our founder Margaret Anna Cusack wrote in 1874: “Force was no longer to be the rule, except, indeed, the force of love.”

In 2020 Philadelphia singer songwriter Joy Ike released a song called “Wearing Love.” It is a song I return to again and again to reground myself on this journey. (It is also good to dance to.)

Slow your breathing
No more scheming
Quit competing
Just love 

And everyone will wonder
You did not go under
You were undercover
Wearing love 

 Keep your words
They won’t fix anything
All that works is the love that you bring

This Lent, and beyond, may I find my ground and center in God’s unconditional love. May I bring the force of that love into my actions and relationships. May I wear love always. Just love.

Thoughts and Action

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Prompt our actions with your inspiration, we pray, O Lord, and further them with your constant help, that all we do may always begin from you and by you be brought to completion.

The above words come from the collect for today’s liturgy on this Thursday after Ash Wednesday. As we begin this Lenten journey, there is so much in need of constant help.

The wars raging in Ukraine and so many other parts of the human family.

The cries of Earth as temperatures rise and our planet’s ecosystem struggles to keep up with harm caused by human activity.

The cries of people who are living in poverty or otherwise on the margins, wondering how they will provide just the basic necessities for their loved ones.

The divisions between and among us that deny human dignity and prevent us from treating each other as the beloved of God we are.

This is the context as we begin Lent. And we are called to begin the Lenten journey in our own hearts.

Purify my heart!
May every word, every thought!
Every motive, every intention!
Be pleasing in your sight O God!
Be pleasing in your sight O God!

This song by Jess Ray, based on Psalm 119, rings true of my heart’s desire for this Lenten journey.

May my heart, my every, word, every thought, every motive be pleasing to God. A high order, but all things are possible with, through, and for God.

In our CSJP Constitutions we say that prayer leads to action, while action leads us to pray. As we hold the many needs of our world crying out for help, may our heartfelt prayer lead us to actions for peace through justice.

Amen

Learning to love, give, and weep in 2022

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I prayed this morning with this song by The Porter’s Gate: Teach Us Your Ways.

Such a fitting prayer as we lean into 2022 and all it will hold. A prayer that we will:

Learn from one another.

Learn to love each other.

Give ourselves for one another.

Weep with one another.

There will certainly be lots to learn this year, lots to give, and tears to be shed. This is life. And we are learning, this is life in times of uncertainty and ambiguity.

May we live into it all with love.

Living Joseph every day

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The Year of St Joseph ends today.

It was unexpected when Pope Francis declared a year dedicated to Joseph last year. I had already spent significant time with my friend Joe, having just finished the manuscript of my book (My Friend Joe: Reflections on St. Joseph – available as a paperback or ebook) the month before.

Joseph is always there for us, with us. He doesn’t need a special year or day. He can be our friend every day.

He can also be a model for us as we navigate this thing called life.

In my religious Congregation we consider him to be a model of peace in times of struggle and uncertainty.

Check. That would be many times, but certainly now.

He can inspire us to dream. To take risks for those we love. To act justly. To serve God. To work creatively. To love always.

Today and everyday.

Waiting … a radical attitude

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Advent is a season of waiting. We wait with Joseph and Mary for the coming of the Christ child. We wait for the inbreaking of God into the human family. We wait, radically, in a culture that prioritizes control and instant gratification.

In the words of Henri Nouwen:

“To wait open-endedly is an enormously radical attitude toward life. So is to trust that something will happen to us that is far beyond our own imaginings. So, too, is giving up control over our future and letting God define our life, trusting that God molds us according to God’s love and not according to our fear. The spiritual life is a life in which we wait, actively present to the moment, trusting that new things will happen to us, new things that are far beyond our imagination, fantasy, or prediction. That, indeed, is a very radical stance toward life in a world preoccupied with control.”

(Excerpt from “Waiting for God” in Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas, Plough Publishing, 2001)

Advent Thoughts

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You might be forgiven for thinking that it is Christmas time. Shopping, lights, carols and the general hustle and bustle of a commercialized holiday season are already upon us.

The Church year however begins on Sunday with a different season … Advent.

It is a time of expectant waiting for the coming of God with us. A pause. An opportunity to be.

I don’t know about you, but I especially need Advent this year. My spirit yearns for the rhythm.

The candles of the Advent wreath each symbolize something we need: hope, peace, joy, and love. Each of these are desperately needed in our wounded world.

And so we pray in hope. We work for peace. We celebrate joyfully. And we live in love..

Let it begin…