There is much to fear in this world of ours. War between and polarization within countries. Violence in our streets and in our homes. Poverty, disease, the list could go on and on, and those are just the big ones. We all have our own “little fears,” anxieties, worries that keep us up at night or afraid to start the day.
Today on Easter morning the church hears in the Gospel of Matthew (28) about fear and the Christian journey.
Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went away quickly from the tomb, fearful yet overjoyed, and ran to announce the news to his disciples. And behold, Jesus met them on their way and greeted them. They approached, embraced his feet, and did him homage. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid. Go tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me.”
This Scripture passage has been very meaningful to me over the years, one that I return to again and again. Fearful yet overjoyed covers so beautifully the butterflies in my stomach feeling I felt at various stages of my vocation journey. Fearful, because, well, I’m me. Overjoyed because, well, I’m responding to the God who loves me by opening my own heart in service of God and God’s people.
We are human and might have reasons to be fearful. Yet we also find joy on the journey that compels us to be of service and about the mission of God. And it is then, we hear today, that Jesus is present, encouraging and sustaining his friend (and us), telling us to not be afraid.
“The Church relives the amazement of the women who went to the tomb at dawn on the first day of the week. The tomb of Jesus had been sealed with a great stone. Today too, great stones, heavy stones, block the hopes of humanity: the stone of war, the stone of humanitarian crises, the stone of human rights violations, the stone of human trafficking, and other stones as well. Like the women disciples of Jesus, we ask one another: “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” (cf. Mk 16:3).
This is the amazing discovery of that Easter morning: the stone, the immense stone, was rolled away. The astonishment of the women is our astonishment as well: the tomb of Jesus is open and it is empty! From this, everything begins anew! A new path leads through that empty tomb: the path that none of us, but God alone, could open: the path of life in the midst of death, the path of peace in the midst of war, the path of reconciliation in the midst of hatred, the path of fraternity in the midst of hostility.”
May we astonish one another in hope and love as we seek to roll away the stones that keep us from the goodness of God and one another
As we say in our CSJP Constitutions: “Strengthened by the Risen Christ, we go forth in peace to continue the work of love and service.”
In today’s reading from Hosea we hear: “I will heal their defection, says the Lord, / I will love them freely.”
God loves freely. We who are made in the image and likeness of God are called to do no less.
In the words of this song by Joy Ike (Wearing Love).
Slow your breathing No more scheming Quit competing Just love
Silly humans that we are though, we limit our God given ability to love, whether it is ourselves, those who annoy us, those who hurt us, those we disagree with, those we just don’t particularly like.
Jesus reiterates this central call to love in today’s Gospel (Mark 12):
One of the scribes came to Jesus and asked him, “Which is the first of all the commandments?” Jesus replied, “The first is this: Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is Lord alone! You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength. The second is this: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these.”
Love God. Love neighbor. Love yourself.
Freely and with our whole heart, soul, mind and strength.
As Joy Ike sings in her song: “All that works is the love that you bring.”
On this second Sunday of Lent, we hear the words of God, coming through the clouds: “This is my Beloved Son; listen to Him.”
Transfiguration (Jesus MAFA, Cameroon)
Moses and Elijah were apparently there on the mountain, and Jesus had already been Transfigured, his clothes a dazzling white. Understandable then that this freaked Peter, James, and John out just a bit. Or, as Mark writes, terrified them, so much so that Peter nervously started talking about building tents for the three. (Peter’s fumbling always makes me feel better.)
That is when the cloud appears and God’s voice can be heard. Seeing the light emanating from Jesus was not enough. So God made it clear for them (us). Jesus is his beloved. Listen to him. And then they saw him. Just him. Alone. With them. Their friend and rabbi who was also the beloved Son of God. They still didn’t quite get it, but they stayed with what it might mean.
“Here is the message: never divert your eyes from the light of Jesus. … This is what we Christians are called to do in the journey of life, always keep before our eyes the radiant face of Christ.”
What keeps us from seeing the light of Christ, ever present in our midst? What keeps us unable to BE the light of Christ for others? Can we echo Gos’s voice, reminding ourselves and others that we too are beloved children of God?
Pope Francis offered a tip for us all during these times, where shadows of darkness are also present and our woundedness, anxiety, and fear can prevent us from seeing the good also and always present in our midst if we but look for it:
“Here is a good resolution for Lent: cultivate open gazes, become ‘seekers of light,’ seekers of the light of Jesus, in prayer and in people.”
As I was praying with this Gospel and the Pope’s words this morning, I was reminded of a video prayer I made over a decade ago set to The Transfiguration by Sufjan Stevens.
Let us not be lost in the cloud, distracted by our fears. May we look out for the light and be the light for others.
The story of the Holy Family is alive and well today and will continue long into the future. For Christians, the Holy Family is our family. Pope Leo XIII asserts that this divine household “contained within its limits the scarce-born Church.” Mary, mother of Jesus, is the mother of all Christians. Jesus Christ is our brother. And Joseph, our foster father, “the Blessed Patriarch looks upon the multitude of Christians who make up the Church as confided specially to his trust, this limitless family spread over the earth … It is, then, natural and worthy that as the Blessed Joseph ministered to all the needs of the family at Nazareth and girt it about with his protection, he should now cover the cloak of his heavenly patronage and defend the Church of Jesus Christ.”
We are part of a limitless family. No matter our own experiences of family—nuclear, extended, or chosen—as Christians we are part of the family of God, a limitless family spread over the earth. And Joseph, who first was called to his role by the message of an angel, is there for us when we need him, ready to spread his cloak of mighty love around us, guiding us, comforting us, and protecting us as members of this limitless family of love.
Prayer for Families
St. Joseph, pray for us, your limitless family, bound together in love. Be with all families in good times and bad. Take special care of families separated for whatever reason. Defend us from ourselves, from our growing pains and insecurities, our hurts and complex family dynamics. Share our joy at new life and the promise of tomorrow. Be our comfort in times of trouble, and our guide always. Teach us your way of mighty love for our human family and daily care for Earth, our common home. St. Joseph, husband of Mary and father of Jesus, pray for us. Amen
I just spent a wonderful week at St. Raphaela Center in Haverford, Pennsylvania. A ministry of the Handmaids of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, it was a new space for me, although I did know the Grey Nun who was my retreat director. The prayerful spirit and hospitality of the Handmaids made me feel right at home.
It is a privilege to be able to take a week away to just be with God. I do not take that lightly! I made my first directed retreat when I was a Candidate, the initial stage of formation as a Sister. Now I cannot imagine not making time for my annual retreat to renew and ground my relationship with God.
Our Constitutions make it clear why this is a priority for us: “We nurture our life of prayer by reflective reading, particularly Scripture, by periods of solitude and silence, and by an annual retreat.” (30)
In the silence this week, the Autumn leaves hit their peak of the season. Such beauty in the Book of Creation! And so much happening in our wounded world to hold in prayer these days.
Our Trinitarian God is present to me in varied ways and at various seasons of my life. These autumn days of retreat, it was Jesus, my brother, friend, savior, teacher, and healer who was my companion.
Fully human … he gets it. No explanation necessary.
Fully divine … he holds it all in his abundant love.
The suffering and struggle. The joy and peace. In love. Always love. With him and through him and for him, in the mysterious relationship of the Trinity, with the Creator and Spirit and you and me and everything … in love.
And so I pray:
Jesus, teacher, savior, companion and friend, open my heart to your abundant love and my own potential to be love, joy and peace, through your loving presence which will accomplish more than I can ask or imagine. You hold it all. In everything, I thank you. Now, tomorrow, always. Amen
“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.
Yesterday’s Gospel reading (Mark 3: 20-21) was just a few lines. It spoke of the crowds that were following Jesus. The last words of the passage were that his family were worried that he was “out of his mind.” Yeah, this whole preaching the good news thing can seem a bit strange and counter cultural, apparently from the very beginning of the experiences that inspired the Gospel writers.
This morning, as I was praying with the Sunday Gospel story of Jesus calling Simon and Andrew to literally abandon their nets and follow him, to become fishers of people instead, (Mark 1: 14-20), I had a sinking suspicion that their loved ones were probably also pretty concerned.
Calling of the Apostles, from a manuscript in collections of the British Library
In the song “Abide” by Liz Vice, she sings these words:
“Jesus we will throw away our lives to follow you Struggling in your strength, resting in your truth Jesus, you’re so beautiful, you give vision to the blind You in us, the hope of glory, in You we will abide”
The call to follow Jesus by our lives, whether that is by abandoning our nets, professing religious vows, forming a family, a particular calling, just to choosing to be kind and compassionate in response to the opposite, or working for justice in this mixed up world … it can be hard to explain.
To someone else, family or friends even, it may seem like throwing away. Simon and Andrew certainly threw away their livelihoods, their nets. I shifted the trajectroy of my own life when I discerned to enter religious life and left my career to follow Jesus in a new way (and what a journey of blessings it has been by the way).
When my heart sings along with Liz Vice, it feels more like throwing my life INTO something. Into SOMEONE. Into Jesus.
The struggle is real, and there is Jesus. The promise of rest is real too, and Jesus is there. The healing is real, and life changing, and calls me to bring the healing to others. The vision of a kindom where we are each beloved community to one another is real, and makes real and present the beauty and hope of Jesus, in whom we abide.
I can’t help but think of those persons who were literally touched by Jesus. The woman who dared against all societal convention to reach out and touch his cloak, seeking healing. The folks who brought their sick loved ones to Jesus, even going as far as to drop the person in need of healing down through the roof since the doorway was blocked. The woman at the well who encountered Jesus in her daily life. The list goes on through the Scriptures, throughout our shared history, and into our day. Pretty incredible.
So what if it might seem a bit worrisome. I am reminded of another figure, who probably worried his own loved ones – St. Francis. As the story goes, he was known as “God’s Fool.” Fools for Christ. We are in good company. We are not perfect. We will stumble and fall and get back up. And Jesus will be there.
In any case, this morning as part of my prayer I made a little video prayer reflection set to “Abide” by Liz Vice, and featuring artistic depictions of some of these lovely fools. I share it here in case it speaks to you.
Today is our CSJP Community Day of Thanksgiving – marking our 137th anniverary. It is also the day after the shameful insurrection at the U.S. Capitol. I shared the following reflection on today’s liturgical readings during our word and communion service today.
During the many tumultuous moments of 2020–the coronavirus pandemic, political upheaval, the beginning of our belated recokoning with white supremacy, and so much more — I found myself wondering what things would be like if people truly understood themselves, and everyone else, as beloved children of God.
In today’s first reading, John tell us it is so. “Beloved, we love God because God first loved us.”
Morover, John says, “we know that we love the children of God when we love God and obey God’s commandments.”
Is it really that simple?
God loves us. We love God. God loves everyone. We love everyone. God loves all of creation. We love all of creation.
It really is that simple, and yet, we humans make it so much more complicated. Just look to what happened yesterday in our Nation’s capital.
The Gospel gives us a clear roadmap for our response in times like these as we follow Jesus. Jesus calls us to bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and to let the oppressed go free. Jesus calls us to love as we seek peace.
Even amidst the chaos of political events, even in the difficult moments of our own lives, we, God’s beloved, are called to love one another and hold fast to the path to peace.
Our Lady Chapel St. Barnabas Cathedral
137 years ago today, in Nottingham, England, Bishop Edward Gilpin Bagshawe presided in Our Lady Chapel, St. Barnabas Cathedral, as the first Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace professed their vows. This is a day for which we give thanks for the gift of community and God’s blessings for our community.
Listen to the words that Bishop Bagshawe shared with our first Sisters:
“Our Divine Lord is called the Prince of Peace, and He gave peace to his disciples as his special gift, saying, ‘Peace be with you.’ … To secure this divine peace for ourselves, to procure its blessings for others in the midst of the sin and strife and turmoil and restless anxiety of this modern world is the object of your institute.”
He said those words on January 7, 1884.
Just imagine what Bishop Bagshawe would have thought of the turmoil that unfolded yesterday in Washington, D.C., or the restless anxiety so many felt as they watched our democracy be threatened like never before in our lifetimes.
We, the Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace, are called to procure the blessings of peace in the midst of times such as these.
The psalmist apparently knew about the type of turmoil that happened at the Capitol Building yesterday.
“From fraud and violence he shall redeem them and precious shall their blood be in their sight. May they be prayed for continually; Day by Day shall they bless them.”
We are blessed with our charism of peace, not in spite of the restless anxiety and turmoil of our modern world, but because of it, for it.
And we believe that peace is possible, that peace points beyond itself in time.
Let us join our hearts and prayers for our community, church, nation, world, and Earth. That we may spread the blessings of peace, in faith, hope and love. That peace may come. That we may truly understand ourselves, and help others to understand themselves and everyone else, as beloved of God.
Have you noticed that everyone (and everything) is weird these days.
And that no one is weird at the same time?
If you find yourself tired or anxious or frustrated or annoyed or even angry, of course you are. We are going on 2 months of this strange reality with no clear path forward that seems comfortable, sure or safe.
Yet here we are. Together. Alone. Safe in our homes or maybe on the newly redefined front lines, suddenly considered essential. Simple daily tasks seem daunting. We juggle home and work life all in one place. So many plans have suddenly disappeared. We might feel lost, dazed or confused.
In today’s Gospel (John 14), our friend Thomas follows his own doubts to help us find the way through. In my own simplified paraphrase of this passage, which I have often prayed with even before these pandemic days, we hear:
Thomas: How can we know the way?
Jesus: I am the way. Stay focused on me. Love a lot.
Yep. Love. A lot. Love is the way when people are weird. Love is the way when we are weird. Love is the way when your child/niece/student is sad that their graduation has been cancelled. Love is the way when you remind your grandmother/mother/sister/friend/yourself that all this isolation has a purpose. Love is the way when you reorganize your plans … again. Love is the way when [insert challenging situation here]. All the rest is distraction from what really matters.
A few years ago, in other life circumstances, my meditation on this Gospel led me to create a video prayer set to music by Sufjan Stevens. I find it is a fruitful prayer these days too, and so I offer it here in case it resonates with you.
At the Corner of Susan and St. Joseph 