Potential Saints

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compassion, decisions, potential, saint, Saint Francesco Antonio Fasani, saints, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Recognized (canonized) saints all used to be well-known by their heroic, holy lives. I’m happier now to hear about saints I’ve never encountered because it seems more possible to imitate them simply by living a good life. Today’s entry in the Franciscan Media’s litany is a good example and the reflection about Saint Francesco Antonio Fasani points up what I mean. Don’t get me wrong. I’m always happy to celebrate people like Pope St. John XXIII or St. Joseph, but it’s good to remember there’s potential in all of us as long as our goal is not recognition but rather sincerity and deep love. Here’s how the short biography of Francesco reads.

Eventually we become what we choose. If we choose stinginess, we become stingy. If we choose compassion, we become compassionate. The holiness of Francesco Antonio Fasani resulted from his many small decisions to cooperate with God’s grace.

Yes, there was a short listing of his life’s works and how he accomplished them but the above paragraph was, for me, a telling conclusion. It seems self-evident that becoming a saint – if only in an “unsung” category – is possible for all of us. That fact could change everything about our striving, don’t you think? It really could be just our attitude and motivation about “the little things in life.” And that, my friends, puts us all in the running for sainthood!

God’s Favorites

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compassion, God, justice, love equally, Luke, psalm 34, St. Paul, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

There are some lovely lines in today’s lectionary readings, starting right at the beginning with the declaration that “the Lord is a God of justice who knows no favorites.” I smile at that one because it’s followed immediately with a caveat about the fact that even though God “is not unduly partial toward the weak,” or deaf to the cry of orphans and widows, yet God hears the cries of the oppressed. There’s also a bow to those who serve God willingly and the lowly whose prayer “pierces the clouds.” In the end, we have the assurance that “the Most High responds and judges justly; the Lord will not delay.” So the question remains. Is God or is God not partial in response to prayer and good works?

It seems clear to me that the Psalmist writes on behalf of the poor, the just and the brokenhearted. (PS 34) and that Paul’s testimony this morning (2 TM 4) is evidence of his good living. Then Luke adds to the examples of those who will be rewarded the story of the Pharisee and the publican (LK 18). What are we to conclude from all these examples? It sounds to me like favoritism.

I have to stop and consider everything I have read. Then I think of the God I trust. I go back to the beginning of my reflection about the fact that God shows no favoritism…and see the first part of that sentence: “God is a God of justice.” Can I assume that as the overarching theme of God’s existence – adding the quality of compassion into the mix of God’s treatment of humankind? If so, I think I find a reasonable answer. God can look at us all as cherished creatures, love us all equally and expect us to live as we were created to: in unifying love toward one another. If we respond positively to that invitation, we will be rewarded. If we do not, the justice of God will enter for correction, always with the potential for forgiveness and reconciliation.

How does that sound?

Sunday Song

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compassion, hospitality, Lynn Bauman, mercy, psalm 98, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

I love the psalms that speak of the natural world doing what we think is reserved to humans. It’s easy to see the trees swaying and to interpret the movement as a dance; why not imagine more participation of the earth that was made long before humankind? Here’s the last part of today’s lectionary psalm (PS 98) as expressed by Lynn Bauman. I highlighted the most meaningful part for me. See what you can see.

Praise God till earth itself becomes a song, till seas and waters flow and waves begin to dance with land and all the peoples sing. Let every river lift its hands to clap in time, while hills and valleys join in song to offer hospitality to the Holy One, who comes to right our every wrong. This God will weigh the worth of everything that was, and is, and ever shall be, so mercy can be known in full, and justice here be balanced with compassion. (Ancient Songs Sung Anew, p. 247)

Just A Taste

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compassion, humility, judging others, kindness, love, patience, Scripture, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

There are some days when I find little to comment on from the lectionary readings as I open the US Catholic Bishops’ website. Sometimes, however, there is too much because all the readings are candidates for “Scripture of the Year.” Today is one of those days. The readings are self explanatory but the content calls for reflection with every new line so I choose this morning to offer a smorgasbord of loving advice that just gives a taste of what can be found in the storehouse of the Lord.

Brothers and sisters, put on, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another…as the Lord has forgiven you. And over all these virtues put on love…(COL 3)

Let everything that breathes praise the Lord! (PS 150)

If we love one another, God remains in us and God’s love is brought to perfection in us. Alleluia! (1 JN 4)

To you who hear I say, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you…Stop judging and you will not be judged…Forgive and you will be forgiven…For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you. (LK 6)

Pay Attention!

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attention, awareness, compassion, grief, Jesus, John the Baptist, loss, Matthew, needs, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Sometimes I feel so sorry for Jesus. In today’s gospel (MT 14:13-21) there are three distinct moments when Jesus could have used a kind word but no one noticed. The first line is the saddest:
1. “When Jesus learned of the death of John the Baptist, he withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself.” Of course he did!! This was his relative and dear friend who had baptized him and recognized who he was immediately. With him gone, Jesus would certainly have been bereft.
2. Even then, the crowds followed him. (I’m hoping they just weren’t informed about John because had they known they would have given him some space to grieve.) They were waiting from him when his boat pulled in to the shore and in his great sense of compassion, he tended to their needs – putting his own feelings aside. He cured them.
3. I’m wondering why the disciples couldn’t see his sadness. They seemed to just be concerned to have him disperse the crowds so they, themselves, wouldn’t have to figure out what to do next. I love the challenge he offered them when he said, “There’s no need for them to go away. Give them some food yourselves.” Of course they had no idea how to do that, but once again compassion reigned and Jesus taught a great lesson.

All of this in the midst of his grief! What lessons might we learn from this reading? Once again, I would say “Awareness, awareness, awareness!” Look beyond what is in front of you to what is inside the person before you. See always with an eye of compassion in the generous manner of Jesus.

Definitional Distinction

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compassion, guilt, light, Meg Wheatley, perseverance, regret, see clearly, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Most people who know me are aware of my fondness for words – not that I prefer talking to silence, but I’m always interested in nuances and things making sense. This morning I read a page from Meg Wheatley’s book, Perseverance, that gave me pause and seems worth repeating. Her concluding paragraph is especially helpful for a Saturday of looking back to the past week and forward to the next.

There’s a fundamental distinction between guilt and regret. Guilt turns us inward, creating a cauldron of self-hatred that destroys us. People never act wisely from guilt – the intensity of emotions prevents discernment and right action.

Regret, on the other hand, does not disable us. It gives us the capacity to see clearly, to clarify our future, to change. We can vow not to repeat our mistakes, we can pay attention to what we’ve learned, we can focus our heart and mind on not causing harm again. We can develop greater insight into who we are, and move forward to become who we would like to be.

If guilt and shame are driving us inward, hopefully we can notice this direction and choose, even for a moment, to look outward. If we look out into the world, we will notice that millions of other people are, at this very moment, experiencing the same terrible feelings.

We can use this time of feeling badly about ourself to get beyond our self, and connect with all those other humans with whom we share this dark kinship. If our hearts open to them, what enters us is not more darkness, but the light of compassion. (p. 87)

A Way to Live

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compassion, forgiveness, gentleness, give thanks, gratefulness, humility, kindness, patience, peace of Christ, St. Paul, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, word of Christ

Because I think that the second lectionary reading for today in many Churches is perhaps the most precise and concise advice for living – not only for Christians for whom St. Paul wrote it, but for all (at least in some adapted way), I offer it this morning without additional comment. May we all ponder Paul’s words and hope for a world where they are truly lived.

Brothers and sisters: Put on, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another, if one has a grievance against another; as the Lord has forgiven you, so must you also do. And over all of these, put on love, which binds the rest together. And let the peace of Christ reign in your hearts, since as one body we have been called to this peace. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ, rich as it is, dwell in you, as in all wisdom you teach and admonish one another, singing psalms, hymns and inspired songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or in deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God through him. (COL 3:12-17)

Being There

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compassion, difficulty, Jesus, letting God be God, love God, prayer, resistance, suffering, surrender, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, trials, unite

There has been a lot of bad news lately – some global, some personal involving people that I love. My typical response to all of it (as maybe for many of us) is to try to make things better. I am lately finding it difficult to trust my ability to do anything and so am shifting to what some people would call “letting God be God.” What that involves sometimes looks like passivity, and it does involve surrender to what is, but it seems more sensible than being against anything which involves resistance and pushing when there is a wall in the way.

What is left when one gives up trying to fix things, it seems to me, is compassion – a feeling with others. It involves presence – physically if possible and long distance if necessary – and mindfulness of the struggles of others. It certainly could lead to action if that seems the best course, but if we unite ourselves to others who are suffering without losing a deep conviction of hope that does not necessarily depend on outcome  I believe that we may find ourselves to be agents of consolation. Additionally, our own prayer may be helpful in adding light to the world.

I realize that all of this (if it makes sense at all) may elicit from some people a reaction of “easy for you to say.” I have been much blessed in my life and have not personally suffered extreme trials. When life has been difficult in some way I have been gifted with the strength of companions whose compassion truly has made a difference and helped me move on. I suppose that is the point of all these thoughts…so the conclusion may simply be for all of us to cultivate good relationships, being faithful to them and to a serious effort to develop compassion in the manner of Jesus who emptied himself of himself in love for the life of the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

For the Life of the World

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compassion, forgiveness, God, John Philip Newell, love, Peace, prayer, Praying With the Earth, strength, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, trust, vision, world

In his small book, Praying with the Earth: A Prayerbook for Peace, John Philip Newell writes each morning and evening of the week a prayer for the life of the world. Brief as they are, they are compelling in their depth and intensity, calling out to God with vision and yearning, always capturing quickly and quietly a trust of the God that will never disappoint. Here is what he offers on this – and every – Saturday morning.

To the home of peace, to the field of love, to the land where forgiveness and right relationship meet we look, O God, with longing for earth’s children, with compassion for the creatures, with hearts breaking for the nations and people we love. Open us to visions we have never known, strengthen us for self-givings we have never made, delight us with a oneness we could never have imagined that we may truly be born of You makers of peace. (p. 52)

 

 

 

 

 

The Body of Christ

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be, blesses, blessing, body of Christ, compassion, Corpus Christi, dawn, Entering the Silence, good, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas Merton

Yesterday I had one of those mornings when waking early turned into an amazing blessing of silence and recognition. I chose to leave my computer packed away and just sat looking out a giant window in New Hampshire at the mid-point of my journey to Wisdom School. (See Saturday’s post). Fortified with the coffee and an invitation to quiet from by ever-hospitable friend, Bill, I spent an hour reflecting on the feast of Corpus Christi (the Body of Christ) as it appeared to me on the calendar, in nature and in my own self as a cell in that universal body of love. Here’s what I scribbled in pencil at one point so that I would recall the experience – a great beginning to this “wisdom week.”

4:15 – First light. The birds were loud and luxurious, reminiscent of Thomas Merton’s words at dawn about God “calling them to ‘BE’ once again.” Moving in and out of sleep to listen. (corpus Christi)

6:05 – Full sun. The breeze makes dappled designs in the room where I sit watching the breeze turn to wind in the excitement of morning. A small chime somewhere outside calls out, “AWAKE!” (corpus Christi)

7:00 – No internet to record the thoughts that have been running across my mind like the ticker-tape of stocks in Times Square, NYC. Mostly song lyrics with pauses for breathing out praise. All is glorious! I am dancing even as I sit and hear inside the words of a prayer of Teresa of Avila made into song by John Michael Talbot. (corpus Christi)

All day long I hear within me: Christ has no body now but yours, no hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes with which he looks compassion on this world; yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands with which he blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body…

Corpus Christi, indeed. So on we go.