In our lives, lived amidst more than a dash of chaos at times, whether of the daily variety or the cosmic, we owe it to ourselves to take time to BE STILL. Sometimes we might actually be able to get away, but even a walk in the neighborhood or a moment to stop and breathe can be enough to refill our energy and restock our knowing of whose we are and who we are at our core.
Recently I was reminded of the words of Honoria Gaffney (Mother Evangelista Joseph, first Superior General of my religious community). Writing on humility, she said: “Empty yourselves of yourselves and you will find God.” She wrote those words over a century ago. Wisdom.
This Sunday morning I took some time with one of my favorite prayer forms, setting some of my contemplative photos of the goodness of God’s creation to music, in this case “I Will Be Still” by Young Oceans, featuring Molly Parden. Enjoy!
[Chorus] I will be still I will be still And know, and know And know You
[Verse 1] Though the Earth give way Though the mountains fall to the sea Though its waters roar I will cling to Thee
[Verse 2] Though the nations rage And creation yearns for the Lord Though the Earth may melt I’m forever Yours
[Pre-Chorus] There is no fear As I look upon You
[Chorus] I will be still I will be still And know And know You are God
I have an affinity for those Scripture passages where the people or disciples complain to God. Because, who hasn’t? In today’s first reading Moses is also a target, the fate of leaders throughout history. (Numbers 21)
From Mount Hor the children of Israel set out on the Red Sea road, to bypass the land of Edom. But with their patience worn out by the journey, the people complained against God and Moses, “Why have you brought us up from Egypt to die in this desert, where there is no food or water? We are disgusted with this wretched food!”
Disgusted. Wretched. Very descriptive. And real.
The story continues that God sent serpents to bite the people as punishment for their complaints! Which spurred the folks to apologize, and then God helped Moses get everyone to chill out by making a bronze serpent on a pole, and everyone who looked at it lived.
The nitty gritty reality of the complaining is what sticks with me. And makes me laugh every time this reading comes up in the lectionary. Because if I am honest, my own conversations with my loving creator sometimes fall into the complaint variety. Sometimes they are substantive and grounded in true issues. Sometimes they are of the more petty variety. Most often probably in the middle? And if I am to be real before God, I can’t stuff it down or pretend I don’t feel all the feelings.
When my Mom was dying of cancer twenty years ago, I had my first true (adult) crisis of faith. It was accompanied by a lot of complaining of the substantive variety. I had a valid beef with the reality of suffering and most particularly the suffering my Mom was going through, and how God was seemingly ok with it. Still do all these years later, truth be told. A wise priest friend encouraged me to spend some time with the psalms. They were filled not only with complaining, he told me, but even anger at God. And anger, he pointed out, is a pretty intimate emotion.
Somehow reading those ancient complaints and screeds against God brought me closer to God in the midst of the reality of suffering. Here’s the thing … while in today’s story from Numbers, God may have punished the people first, the story ends with mercy. The story always ends with God’s mercy. God listens. God is with us. And God wants to hear our complaints! As we hear today in Psalm 102:
Let this be written for the generation to come, and let his future creatures praise the Lord:
“The Lord looked down from his holy height, from heaven he beheld the earth, To hear the groaning of the prisoners,to release those doomed to die.
So go ahead. Groan. Complain…. God has heard worse. We won’t find the way through by ignoring the death dealing realities of life, real and figurative. We might miss life giving opportunities if we do. God invites us always to bring our realities to our relationship with our loving creator. And for that I am very grateful.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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..
Just in time for the end of the Year of St. Joseph, I am excited to share the news that my little book of reflections on St. Joseph has been published by Kenmare Press: My Friend Joe: Reflections on St. Joseph. It is available for purchase as a paperback ($8) or ebook ($1) from the Kenmare Press Online Bookstore.
Description:
St. Joseph, husband of Mary and foster-father of Jesus, is central to the Christian story. Yet, so little is known about St. Joseph, either as an historical figure or as recorded in scripture. Much of what we understand about Joseph comes to us from tradition, art, and the lived experience of the faithful over the centuries. Sister of St. Joseph of Peace Susan Rose Francois reflects on her growing spiritual friendship with St. Joseph, who she affectionately calls her friend Joe. Inspired by photographs of Joseph taken by the author, she reflects on her personal encounters with Joseph in conversation with church tradition around this saint. Through art, prose, history, and prayer she encourages the reader to discover, or deepen, their own spiritual friendship with St. Joseph.
“I am,” a new-to-me song by Jill Phillips, speaks deeply to me of the invitation to let God be God. So I did what I do, and made a video prayer.
Lyrics by Jill Phillips:
Oh, gently lay your head upon my chest, And I will comfort you like a mother while you rest The tide can change so fast, but I will stay The same through past, the same in future, the same today
I am constant, I am near I am peace that shatters all your secret fears I am holy, I am wise I’m the only one who knows your hearts desires Your hearts desires
Oh weary, tired, and worn Let out your sighs And drop that heavy load you hold, ’cause mine is light I know you through and through There’s no need to hide I want to show you love that is deep, and high, and wide
Oh, gently lay your head upon my chest And I will comfort you like a mother while you rest
With all happening in our world this past week, from Afghanistan to extreme climate events to challenging events in the lives of some folks I know, this was an interesting time to be on retreat. I don’t think I fully understood, until I got to the spot of grace and beauty that is Mercy by the Sea, how very tired and weary I have been. I wasn’t entiretly surprised, given the past year and a half in the time of COVID. Plus the fact that I just finished a six and a half year term of leadership for my religious community and have started a second term. What was suprising was the depth of my need for rest. Lucky me … a whole week to rest with God. A privilege really. A luxury. The grace and beauty of this time, for me, has been God’s abundant presence. And my own presence to the wonder of God’s creation.
I usually have so many words rumbling around my head. It can make it harder for me listen for the voice of God. Sixteen years ago, on my first silent directed retreat, the invitation was to let go of the words and focus instead on images. Ever since, on retreat, I feel drawn to pay attention to the beauty of creation through a contemplative photography practice. Resting my eyes on signs of God’s creating presence, God’s love.
At the Corner of Susan and St. Joseph 