May our hearts be open
to the surprises of God’s Holy Spirit,
present always among us,
bringing light and love,
hope and possibility.
What is ours to do?
To let God be God,
to love and remember
we are loved.
All of us. Todos. No exceptions.
Yes, even him or her or them.
The Spirit is moving.
May we move too,
along the arc of justice.
May we cooperate
with God’s Spirit
in peace.
Amen
This Palm Sunday, praying as a visitor in a packed to the gills new-to-me church, the familiar readings from Luke’s Gospel spoke to me in a new and powerful way.
From the Gospel read before the Palm Sunday Procession:
Jesus proceeded on his journey up to Jerusalem. As he drew near to Bethphage and Bethany at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples. He said, “Go into the village opposite you, and as you enter it you will find a colt tethered on which no one has ever sat. Untie it and bring it here. And if anyone should ask you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ you will answer, ‘The Master has need of it.’
My friends, Jesus has need of US. He needs us to untie ourselves from thinking we have no power to make a positive difference in the world. He needs us to empower one another to make the way for God’s love to break into our weary world.
Because like Jesus, many innocents are being condemned by the group think of the crowds.
Pilate addressed them a third time, “What evil has this man done? I found him guilty of no capital crime. Therefore I shall have him flogged and then release him.”
With loud shouts, however, they persisted in calling for his crucifixion, and their voices prevailed. The verdict of Pilate was that their demand should be granted.
The crowds can condemn, and the crowds can also speak out and stand up for those wrongly accused. Those whose free speech rights are in peril. Those who are wrongfully deported and detained. Those whose life-saving medicine and food is stopped by greed and ideology. Those who …
Christ has need of us. Today. Now. Here in this day and time.
Will we like Peter deny Christ and His love?
Or will we help to carry the cross and seek to bring about God’s reign of justice and peace.
I started my day with a community of strangers outside a downtown subway station in Jersey City this morning, standing up and speaking out for our democracy, the common good, and human rights (among other things). This was one of over 1,300 events organized for today across the country under the unifying theme of #HandsOff. I carried my homemade sign which said on one side, “This is a moral moment” (quoting my Senator Cory Booker), and “Time 4 Good Trouble” (quoting John Lewis) onthe other. Under my raincoat I wore my “Love cannot be silent” t-shirt. (Before I left the house I prayed with St. Joseph and showed him my signs, because, well, I am me!)
Some reflections …
I find myself reminded of and praying with these words from Gaudium et Spes, the Pastoral Constitution of the Second Vatican Council:
“The joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the people of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ. Indeed, nothing genuinely human fails to raise an echo in their hearts. .. That is why this community realizes that it is truly linked with humankind and its history by the deepest of bonds.”
May we, people of all and no faiths, be bound together in hope and loving action for all that is good. May we resist joyfully. Amen
Things are a bit chaotic these days. (Mis)information flies at us at rapid speed, often before we can process its effect or prepare for potential impacts. The very landscape beneath our feet is shifting, even as the people of Myanmar, Thailand, and China face the reality of an actual earthquake. Systems we have relied on for decades to hold things together are being dismantled. The list goes on.
What is a person to do? How do we hold fast to love as we seek to be people of peace amid the chaos?
One of my daily practices is to take time in the morning with the daily Scripture readings and reflections in Give Us This Day.
This morning, after reading and praying with the news (see the first paragraph), I turned to this prayer resource. I was gifted with a reflection by my friend Sister Julia Walsh, FSPA on “The Power of Paradox.” Here is an excerpt:
“I don’t remember where I heard it or where I read it, but it’s been rattling around in my mind a lot lately that the healthiest and holiest people are the folks who are conscious of the power of paradox. These good ones can love those they disagree with and want goodness for those who have harmed them. They are the saints who can hold two contradictory truths together, who aren’t threatened by inconsistencies.
I wonder how different our church and our world might be if we were taught from a young age that prayer is a type of communion with the mystery, that it is the practice of embracing opposite truths as they coexist. Opening ourselves to seeing every side and knowing we will forever be limited in our knowing is another way we can touch the cross of mystery; it is a way we get to put our fingers into Christ’s side.”
And so I pray …
And so I choose to stand in love and solidarity, keeping the peace of Christ in view on the horizon of my heart as I scan the landscape, trying to make sense of it all.
I hold fast to what I know is good and possible and true. I resist being limited by darkness or division but seek light and love, even when it is obscured or makes no sense in the circumstances. I refuse to demonize others or deny their human dignity, even if their actions harm others and earth. God can hold the paradox and the tension. God is bigger than it all, and God is good all the time. All the time, God is good. And so are we. And so are you.
Earlier this month, I had the chance to visit an art exhibit at SFMOMA, an installation by Yayoi Kusama called “Dreaming of Earth’s Sphericity: I Would Offer My Love.” It was a mirror room, filled with color and to be honest a bit disorienting, a chaotic paradox of sorts.
We entered through a WillyWonkaesque door, which required us to duck to enter the box that held the mirror room. Inside our senses were bombarded by this …
It was both expansive and confining. Illuminating and confusing. Overwhelming and enjoyable. We were only in the room for two minutes. It felt so much longer. And so much less.
I was there with good friends who know and love me as I know and love them. I was also there with strangers I did not know and will never know again.
The words of the artist point the way, just as Julia does.
“Enter the place of colors
Polka dots let in the sunlight of the earth
The heart is filled with the shining light of the sun
All of the people who enter seeking the joy of being alive
Let there be eternal harmony among all in the circles and cycles of living
Peace and endless love for all.”
Amen
Today on the Feast of St. Joseph, I am reminded of the many ways God breaks through and into our lives and our world, often unexpected. Think of the story of Joseph, the unexpected message he received in a dream from an angel and his faithful response despite the pressures of society.
There’s a song that captures this moment by Waterdeep, which I recently illustrated in a prayer video using a favorite picture of stained glass window depicting this critical moment in our faith history.
Mary’s annunciation gets a lot of attention, and rightly so. But how often do we reflect on this other annunciation? And what might Joseph’s response teach us today as we face our own uncertain and confusing moments?
I love this stained glass window of Joseph receiving the message of the angel. It is so very human. When I would visit my father at St. Joseph Village in Chicago, the nursing home on the North Side of Chicago where my Dad lived his last years, I would see this window behind the altar in the chapel. St. Joseph Village was the first ministry of the Franciscan Sisters of Chicago, founded in 1897. The current building is a new construction, and it is clear that special attention was given to the design of the chapel. It is a beautiful place to pray, filled with light.
Joseph does not respond to the angel’s heavenly message with words, at least not according to Matthew’s Gospel account (2: 18-25). This stained-glass window, however, implies what must have been his natural response. “His expression,” notes the booklet describing the chapel artwork, “seems to suggest the question, ‘What does this mean?’”
Not only does his expression speak volumes, but also Joseph’s posture—hands open, shoulders shrugged, one knee on the ground. He has even dropped his tools. His life will never be the same.
The angel tells Joseph not to be afraid to welcome Mary into his home, to form a family. “For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her.”
Joseph, a man of few words—or no words at least that have been recorded—spoke instead with his actions. Joseph was open to the unexpected.
Joseph took Mary into his home and helped to raise Jesus. “Joseph’s ordinary life of labor and purity of intention have been transformed into an extraordinary element of God’s holy plan.”
WHAT WOULD you do if an angel appeared to you in a dream and told you something completely unexpected, life changing, and a little bit crazy?
God often speaks to us through the unexpected. Most likely we do not have visions or angelic messages, but then again, what else are friends and family and those “aha” moments? God’s love surprises us again and again, often in unexpected ways. And the message is clear … Be Not Afraid. Respond with love in return. And all will be well.
Prayer for Unexpected Moments
St. Joseph, inspire us to be open to the unexpected Spirit-filled moments of life. Pray with and for us, that we too may see the extraordinary possibilities hidden in the ordinariness of life. Thank you for the many ways you modeled acceptance and loving response to God’s love. May we too respond to God’s gifts with faith, gratitude, and loving action.
Amen
In today’s first reading from Deuteronomy (30) we hear:
“Choose life, then, that you and your descendants may live, by loving the Lord, your God, heeding his voice, and holding fast to him. For that will mean life for you, a long life for you to live on the land that the Lord swore he would give to your fathers Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.”
I had started my morning prayer time reflecting on another reading, this one from Blessed Franz Jägerstätter, who I have chosen (or has chosen me) as my spiritual companion this Lent.
“When something difficult comes about, whoever remains in love will receive everything for the best.”
It seems to me that these two readings are linked. God is good all the time, yet we humans make life messy and sometimes difficult for ourselves and others with our choices.
It is good to remember, to quote a well-worn phrase from fictional character Anne with an e of Lucy M. Montgomery’s Green Gables, “Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it.”
We can never undo what is done, but we can face today and the days ahead by holding fast to the truth of God’s love.
Holding fast … interestingly that phrase has come to mean more to me these days, as it is a definition of resistance.
I commit in these challenging times to hold fast to goodness, love, justice, human dignity, compassion, and mercy as I follow the God of Peace. I choose life. I choose to love always, fiercely, inclusively.
Franz Jägerstätter faced hard choices in a time of extreme social sin as he refused to fight for the Nazi regime. He held fast to his love for God, his family, and the people of God at great cost. In the end he was murdered by the Nazi government. In the end following the path to love did not lead to a long life for him on earth. His memory, indeed his very name, is blessed and his witness of a life of love lives on to inspire us today.
Pray for us Blessed Franz Jägerstätter, that we may hold fast to God’s love, that we may act in love and for love and with love. Always. Amen.
Today would have been my parents’ sixty-fifth wedding anniversary. Theirs was a partnership that was grounded in their love of God, one another, and all of God’s people, especially those who are experiencing poverty. This morning in prayer, as I reflected on what is happening in our country and to the very weft and weave of our democracy, I give thanks for all they taught me through their example about the dignity of love and public service. I am also calling for their intercession for our country at this time.
They both began their careers in public service before they met. My Dad came to Washington from Iowa in 1956 to work at the US Patent Office before going to law school at George Washington University. My mom grew up in the DC Suburbs and worked in office administration for the Department of Justice before working for NATO in Europe (Yes, she was in Paris in the 1950s!).
In my Dad’s memoir, Me? I’m from Iowa, he shares how during their courtship and after they were married, they talked about faith and politics, which were always intertwined throughout their lives.
“After meeting in May, we went out a lot. And we talked, and talked. Starting with religion, we discussed why we were both Catholic, and found that we had some devotions in common. We talked about international issues, Communism and its failings, and the need to get involved in politics. … Following up on the political discussions we had during our dating and while on our honeymoon, we said now is the time to move ahead.”
Over the course of their marriage, my parents participated in the political campaigns of others and for my Dad’s own campaigns for local elected office. Dad served as an elected judge and later member of the County Council for several decades, before moving into transportation policy at the state and federal level. Mom worked on the staff of members of Congress and in the area of social work to support incarcerated people. Throughout it all, they were guided by their faith and the Gospel call to seek justice, especially for the most vulnerable.
My siblings and I grew up with the expectation that it was our responsibility to leave the world a better place than we found it, and most importantly to use our God given gifts in service of the common good. We learned first hand the promise and possibility of good government to make systemic change in support of human dignity, such as when my Dad helped to pass fair housing laws and desegregate the public schools. We saw how important it is to use our voice and influence to advocate for justice, such as when my Mom joined protests organized against discriminatory housing sales practices in our town. There are so many more examples of their witness in action. It is no coincidence that at one point or another, all of their five children worked directly in public service.
During these times, I am feeling the pull to call on our Cloud of Witnesses. This morning I am asking my parents to pray for our country, for all public servants who are under attack, for the health of our democracy, and for those who are already being impacted by the takeover of government agencies and the rapid dismantling of life-saving programs. Eileen Schmelzer Francois and Frank Francois, pray for us.
I choose this morning to stand in the truth–
of goodness and love and beauty–
always goodness and love and beauty.
I lean on the faithfulness of our loving Creator,
who calls us to be one human family.
Always. Everywhere. No matter what.
I walk in the footsteps of the cloud of witnesses,
real men and women who faced their own troubling times,
holding fast to goodness and love and beauty,
making them real through courageous action for the least among us.
I take up what is mine to do today and for tomorrow,
no more, no less.
That is the task.
I trust in the words of our redeemer:
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the peacemakers.
He never said it would be easy,
but all things are possible through God.
I spent this past week on my annual retreat. It was an interesting week to be away in the desert grounded in prayer amidst the beauty of God’s creation. Some news of what was happening in our nation and world seeped into my contemplative time. All the more to bring to prayer.
I reenter my daily life renewed and refreshed with some reminders for the journey ahead.
The sun always rises in the morning. There is light after darkness, light to guide our way. We can be light for one another and love always. Love anyway.
Each day holds its own cares and worries, joys and delights, challenges and opportunities. Tomorrow is always another day with no mistakes in it, to quote Anne Shirley. The invitation is to be in the present moment and to work towards a more peaceful tomorrow. The arc of justice is long.
Humans are human and God is God. I walked on land inhabited by the Hohokam peoples over 1,000 years ago. They literally left their mark on the rocks. I prayed in the footsteps of what must have been thousands of people in the past sixty years at the retreat center. So many hopes and dreams and experiences of God have been held in the human heart. And those human hearts are held in the heart of God.
We are all part of the immensely wide dream of our loving Creator. I looked up at the night sky and saw stars and moon and planets! All moving through the universe. Light traveling billions of years to reach my eyes. It gives you some perspective.
Not to say life can’t be messy and scary and overwhelming at times. We each have our own individual prickly points, and so too does society. Right now, our nation is experiencing a clash of prickly points and agendas that are already impacting the most vulnerable among us. What is ours to do in this time? How do we find strength in our vulnerability, stand together, and act in solidarity for the common good?
I spent time sitting at the feet of this statue of Joseph with the Christ child. Joseph lived in turbulent times, times of uncertainty and abuse of power. He listened (and responded) to God’s dream in love. He took risks. He did the hard work.
Joseph was faithful, just as God is faithful. May I be faithful. This is my simple prayer.
Beloved of God, remember God is love and God is good.
May we be love. May we be good, to ourselves and one another on the long road ahead.
Yesterday, I was blessed to spend the day at the first ever UNICEF USA Interfaith Convening on the Rights of Children. (Tomorrow is World Children’s Day). UNICEF gathered a diverse group of interfaith partners to learn about and explore how to address the equity gap in meeting the “polycrises” impacting the world’s children.
In 2023 alone, UNICEF responded to more than 400 humanitarian crises, but just 5 received 50 percent of the funding, while others don’t make the headlines. For example, I have to admit I was not aware that over 2 million people are displaced in Burkina Faso because of armed conflict. I committed to coming home and researching this particular crisis.
The Convening was an important learning opportunity. More importantly, it was a time to connect across our faith traditions. What became more clear as each speaker shared was that we are all motivated by universal truths to meet universal needs. There is power and possibility as we come together to act for the children of our world. Change is possible when we build community.
Hope was palpable in the room as people from faith traditions that are, at this very moment, engaged in armed conflicts that are harming children, came together not to debate politics but to commit to serving our common humanity. Differences arose, but we did not get stuck there. We all agreed that we need to cultivate more spaces like this to spend time on common ground. Rooted in our own traditions, we came together to plant seeds of hope.
During my sharing time, in the format of a fireside chat (minus the fireside!), I was asked what I think is the greatest crisis facing children. Reflecting on the millions of children at risk every day from dangerous conditions resulting from armed conflict and environmental disasters, I shared what Pope Francis says about the globalization of indifference. How can we be indifferent to the need of EVERY Child for safety, food, shelter, health, and education? And yet as a global community we are failing so many children.
We must resist the temptation to feel numb. We need community, we need to cultivate our common ground, and we need to act. For every child.
Because of the equity crisis, there is a desperate need for flexible funding. I was there because my Congregation supports the UNICEF Every Child Fund, a fund that enables UNICEF to help reach children with critical support when and where they need it the most. YOU can too! Click the link to learn more. And if you feel so called, to make a donation no matter how small.
At the Corner of Susan and St. Joseph 