I always prefer a window seat when I’m on a plane unless most of the flying will be done in the dark or, lately, if it’s a very long flight where it makes sense to be able to get up and walk once in awhile. Yesterday, flying east on a gloriously sunny day I was happy to see what looked like a jigsaw puzzle across Wisconsin from 35,000 feet up! I was excited to see the shore of what I assumed was Lake Michigan come into view. Without having seen the flight plan or any idea of what time it was I acknowledge that I could have been mistaken; Lakes Superior and Erie are also in that general direction. We were flying to Baltimore and all I know is that the earth slowly disappeared as lovely white clouds began to gather over a huge body of water and for the duration of the trip I was floating in what became a dense wall of moisture that blotted out any awareness of time or location. The sense of suspension without any markers was all-encompassing and I entered it totally, as if I were part of the vast silence of the clouds, just being without any doing at all. It was a different experience from any other I recall in traversing cloudy skies. There was no sense that the ground would re-enter my field of vision until about the last two minutes before landing. I was totally “out of control” of everything and, blessedly, not wishing to leave that state by reading or making lists for the days following my return.
I found it interesting to read God’s question to Job this morning in light of yesterday’s experience. Have you ever in your lifetime, God asks, commanded the morning and shown the dawn its place? (JB 38:1) I can’t explain exactly why I was so taken by that “time out of time” except to say that I was not at all distressed at being out of control of events or environment for as long as it lasted. Perhaps it will teach me to remember that God really is always the “pilot” and has the flight plan of every day in hand. All I have to do is enjoy the ride!
One of the first prayers I (and many others) learned as a child was about angels. (Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God’s love commits me here, ever this day (or night) be at my side to light and guard, to rule and guide.) It was great comfort to know that there was a being just over the border of our universe who was God’s gift to me personally. I didn’t have to theologize about it since it was a given and there were three great “Archangels” that we knew by name from Scripture, each with a mission: Michael protected, Gabriel announced and Raphael guided. (See visions in the Book of Daniel and stories from the Book of Tobit.) Why wouldn’t God give me someone to do those things for me? I never needed to name my angel as some children did. It was enough that God knew who was taking care of me.
Two things about St. Vincent de Paul’s life (1580-1660) were surprising to me as I read his brief biography at 
When I read the text of the first reading from the Book of Job this morning (JB 1:6-22) I thought – as usual – that it sounds like the synopsis of a bad movie. Satan, vying with God, bets that Job won’t be as faithful as he has been if bad things happen to disturb his idyllic life of favor as God’s friend. God disagrees. After he hears all the terrible destruction that his servants come one after another to tell him about, we hear the familiar line that “I came into the world naked and will leave it naked. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” Of course Job doesn’t say these words as declarative, emotionless sentences. He does wail and rend his garments…and this is only the first chapter of his test.
Today’s Scripture readings are filled with warnings about the dangers of riches and power. From the first (the prophet Amos) to the last (Luke’s gospel) we hear chilling words about those who seek worldly wealth and power and the consequences of being unaware of the needs of others. It is only in the reading from the first letter to Timothy (6: 11-16) that I find some advice for escaping the pitfalls recounted in these texts. It is the first sentence that calls out to our best selves where he names us people of God and tells us to pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience and gentleness. That’s a big order but certain to keep us on the right path. As I think of those words, I see the central two (faith and love) strengthened by the practice of the first two (righteousness and devotion) and flowering in the last two (patience and gentleness). That may sound a bit contrived but it seems to work for me as a plan so today, I’ll think on that pattern and hope for the best!
I’m awake early today, making lists already for what I need to remember. I’m leaving later today for a week of travel that will place me at three different locations for three important conversations. It begins tomorrow at a reunion celebration with the women who arrived at St. Joseph’s Provincial House fifty years ago seeking to test a vocation to religious life. Some of us found that by God’s miraculous grace we stayed; others left us over the years to find their life’s purpose elsewhere. We will be happy to hear their stories tomorrow as we gather for ritual and sharing of a meal. By tomorrow evening I will be on a plane traveling half-way across the country to meet with other women. Eight of us have been privileged to be together several times over the past two years in prayer and purpose, designing processes for all of our Sisters (nearly 1,000 still) to discern a future that will see us as a smaller number but still strong to serve. Our efforts have been blessed by the participation of hearts and minds willing to jump in and speak to each other about vision, fears and fearlessness as we look ahead to a future that only God can know in the present. The end of my journey will bring me back East to New Hampshire by next weekend for different but just as worthy discussions. We six are the advisors to the trustee of our dear departed friend, Helen, whose gift of her fortune has facilitated the spread of “Wisdom Work” in the past four years to a degree that we could never have imagined. We have eight proposals to consider for the next calendar year, which may be the last. It was Helen’s desire that her money be dispersed within five years and it seems that she judged it correctly! Perhaps we may need to continue (and Helen’s wish was not a command). We won’t know until we sit together – again in prayer and deep conversation – to come to clarity on what projects are in keeping with her intent and vision.
Today people all over the world are celebrating St. Pio of Pietrelcina, one of the most controversial and beloved saints in the history of Christianity. Unlike many of those holy people recognized in the Christian canon of saints, Francesco Forgione lived during the life of many of us (5/25/1887 – 9/23/1968). He entered the Capuchin Franciscan order at the age of 15 and took the name of Pio (Pius). He was ordained in 1910. After September 20, 1918, when he had a vision of Jesus and received the stigmata (the wounds of Christ) in his hands, feet and side, Pio suffered for the rest of his life. His deepest suffering came not from the wounds but from the notoriety, the claims that the wounds were self-inflicted, and from the embarrassment and humiliation of the cross he bore. Much of his life was spent in hearing the confessions of penitents and healing people near and far. He was reported to have several spiritual gifts including bi-location and was investigated many times but in the end was found to have been the conduit for many healings and declared a saint of the Roman Catholic Church in 2002. Most notable, it seems to me, is the fact that throughout the long and arduous process and steps toward canonization, there was no treatment of the extraordinary spiritual “gifts” but rather only focus on the verified healings and the holiness of life of this “suffering servant” of God.
As I read today’s lectionary texts, I am struck once again with the necessity of living every moment to the fullest without grasping at the past or the future – which I no longer have or do not yet have (and maybe never will, who knows?). This is not a new theme but as I write I am hearing in my head some lines of a song by Greg Greenway, a wonderful musician and poet. The refrain goes like this: This is the light I carry. Tonight is a celebration. Have no complaints, sinners and saints, under the bright constellations…The hymnal’s wide open at the Church of What Is; let’s sing!
Sometimes we are surprised by the choices people make. Often that’s because we can’t see with our eyes the workings of anyone else’s mind – or occasionally even our own. I had two conversations yesterday about trusting what we can’t see or yet know and how that is sometimes what we have to do when we are unable to clearly evaluate how the options we are considering (“Do I or don’t I?”) will work out.
The Sophia Center for Spirituality 