Back To Work

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choosing, creation, creative freedom, destiny, God, identity, life, participate, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, truth, vocation, work

I took a vacation from the news over the long weekend just concluded. I think we have a responsibility to stay informed but sometimes we just need a break. Consequently, I just spent almost a half-hour reading all sorts of headlines from internet news services to see what I had missed. There weren’t many surprises and I surmise that’s because many groups and individuals were sitting things out, just as I did. It’s interesting surfing like that, however – a good way to have a birds-eye view of what we see as important as a culture. There are still threats from North Korea and the White House (which I do not mean to dismiss!) as well as legislative issues and stories – serious ones – about the weather. I found nothing about the deeper concerns of our spiritual well-being, however, so my “two cents” this morning as we get back to the routine of life in this new year will be what I think is a very important point for reflection from Thomas Merton.

Our vocation is not simply to be, but to work together with God in the creation of our own life, our own identity, our own destiny. This means to say that we should not passively exist, but actively participate in God’s creative freedom, in our own lives, and in the lives of others, by choosing the truth. (New Seeds of Contemplation, 32-33, excerpted)

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Praise of Women

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Annunciation, beauty, blessed, child, courage, destiny, Elizabeth, God's name, hard grace, holy, justice, Luke, Mary, praise, pregnant, solace, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, willingness, womb, women

I love the feast that we celebrate today: the Visitation of Mary to her kinswoman, Elizabeth. This was no “stopping ’round for tea” visit. Mary traveled “to the hill country” and stayed for three months. Elizabeth was a woman past child-bearing age – whatever that meant in those long-ago days. In her 30s, perhaps, and probably concerned since she had heretofore been unable to conceive. Mary was just a teenager, and likely frightened by the process of carrying a child. For both of them this “favor” wrought by God was what many would have called “hard grace.” On a human level, how lucky they were to have each other! We speculate that Elizabeth was further along in her pregnancy so it must have been a relief to have Mary around to help her. The Scriptures intimate that Mary had rushed off to Elizabeth soon after receiving the message from God that she was pregnant. Her comfort would likely have been an older woman, who obviously loved her, to lean on and share with as she interiorized what was happening to her body and her life. Such a great story!

The gospel passage from Luke (1:39-56) doesn’t stop with this loving, relational scene, however. Perhaps it was on her trek from Nazareth to Elizabeth’s home that Mary’s process of acceptance that began with her “yes” at the Annunciation was fulfilled. Or perhaps it was Elizabeth’s recognition of the child Mary was carrying that caused her own baby to “leap” in her womb. Whatever the transformation in Mary, her testimony to the power of God that she sang out on that day of her arrival in response to Elizabeth’s greeting was that of a strong woman who knew her role in the great drama of religious history that was unfolding within her. From this day, she proclaimed, all generations will call me blessed, for the Almighty has done great things for me, and holy is God’s name!

Those words are followed with a vision of God’s power to overturn the order of powerful and poor in a restoration of justice. Certainly, Mary did not know the specifics of how that would happen – nor did anyone, but she knew she had been chosen for a role in it. And the courage to speak, I believe, came not only from God’s grace but from the relationship of the older, more worldly-wise woman standing beside her.

Let us today (men and women alike) rejoice in those women in our lives who give us solace and courage when we need it and the companionship that keeps us on track in our living. Let us remember also, those who have gone before us who still stand as examples of the willingness to accept God’s grace in our lives that we might fulfill our destiny in praise and beauty.

Elizabeth Regina

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authority, destiny, divine, judge, leadership, psalm 97, Queen Elizabeth, sovereign, The Crown, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, weighty

The “common cold” has been getting a lot of attention recently. We’ve been warned about the danger of being heedless as it could lead to pneumonia – and that to death, especially for the elderly. Whether it be an excess of caution or a very serious infection, Queen Elizabeth of England has joined the ranks of those of us afflicted in this season, to the extent that she missed participating in her traditional Christmas church service for the first time in 30 years!

I was reminded of the Queen as I read a translation of this morning’s psalm (97) that used the word “Sovereign” for God in the first verse. It is God, I AM, who is sovereign over all, it said. We have been watching at our house the Netflix original series called The Crown which so far (only one season produced thus far) chronicles the period of Elizabeth II’s early life and the first decade of her reign as queen. The introduction to each episode is quite strikingly artistic, beginning with strands of molten gold, flowing and swirling and eventually forming the weighty (5 pounds, they say) crown of the queen. Just that piece and the title give a perfect introduction to the main theme of the entire series: the role of the sovereign which, as is clear from the oath at her coronation, comes directly from God. A weighty destiny indeed.

I have stopped after writing the above, not knowing where to take that thought. There is so much that flows from its meaning. Her serious demeanor seems rarely left behind, usually only when she has been seen walking her dogs in the countryside, for instance. That makes more sense to me now, having seen images of her struggling with the impossible task of one who is seen to have divine authority but at the same time is bound by centuries of protocols and traditions that seem ironclad, thus immune to her differing opinions. I feel a new compassion for her, rather than just a passing curiosity about what she is wearing or whether she is smiling when she appears on the news. Wherever this leads, it reminds me of the serious “job” of leadership and the task of the rest of us to research before we judge.

Our Call Today

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actively participate, compassion, destiny, freedom, New Seeds of Contemplation, respect, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas Merton, truth, vocation

I return to this reflective task from an extraordinary outpouring of care that included not only family solidarity but also the prayer and compassion of two faith communities – one Roman Catholic and one Presbyterian – who embraced us because of their experience of my cousin, Paul, and his wife, Janice. Celebrating Paul’s earthly existence and his entry into new life in God, I was not surprised by welcome in two Christian denominations; I presumed hospitality at such an event. There was something deeper there, however. It seemed, rather than two, we were experiencing one seamless worship service because of the respect, compassion and real love that was palpable throughout the day.

Last evening I participated in an interfaith prayer service in anticipation of today’s national elections. Although it was held in a Catholic Church, the prayer and reflections were offered equally by a Jewish rabbi (a woman) and two Christian pastors of different denominations. Again I was struck by the deep sense of common purpose of the gathered community.

I take these experiences into this monumentally important day and carry as well the words of Thomas Merton whose reflections seem fitting for this moment.

 Our vocation is not simply to be, but to work together with God in the creation of our own life, our own identity, our own destiny. This means to say that we should not passively exist, but actively participate in His creative freedom, in our own lives, and in the lives of others by choosing the truth. (New Seeds of Contemplation, 32-33, excerpted)

The Rest of the Story

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aging, destiny, feed my lambs, feed my sheep, future, Jesus, John, love, Peter, tender, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, wisdom

On Friday I had a conversation with a friend about aging and the unexpected shifts in relationships that are occasioned by the fact that people are living longer now. It was one of those times when we could have said, “If I knew then what I know now…” as we mused on the choices that life had presented us. As it was not a deeply serious exchange, however, we were rather commenting on the idiosyncrasies that we notice both in ourselves and in our loved ones that didn’t appear (or weren’t there!) earlier in our lives. Our conclusion was that love covers a multitude and we’re both lucky to have people who love us!

Today’s gospel offers two choices for reflection on the same text that I mentioned yesterday – the one I like to call “breakfast on the beach.” Presiders may take chapter 21 of John to verse 19 or, if this seems too long a story for the faithful, may stop at verse 14 when breakfast is served. I find it unfortunate for that to happen if the only hearing of this tract is in church this morning because verses 15 to 19 tell of Jesus asking Peter three times if Peter loves him. I can imagine myself as Peter in that situation wondering first why Jesus was asking at all but then remembering the horrific story of my denial on the evening of his arrest. By the time he got to the third repetition, however, I would probably be frustrated and wondering why he was humiliating me that way since it was not at all like him!

What point was Jesus trying to make in that moment? Precisely, I think, that we do not know what is to come later in life and occasionally we do need to assess what has been happening and recommit to whatever the future may bring to us. I feel Jesus as very tender in that moment, loving Peter more than he could ask or imagine and wanting Peter to know how special he was. The charge he gives him (“Feed my lambs; feed my sheep”) is not an easy destiny. Peter, the impulsive one who loved so much, would need to remember this moment in the most dangerous and difficult situations in the future. And he would prove himself equal to the task.

Perhaps today is a day to hear that question of Jesus: “Lois, do you love me?” (not just once but three times for emphasis). Looking back and looking forward, may we all echo Peter who said with total certainty, “Yes, Lord, you know all things. You know that I love you.” And in that answer, may we again walk confidently into life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

O Lord, Hear My Prayer

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anguish, answer, broken-hearted, common humanity, compassion, cries, destiny, endure, faith, hear, hear my prayer, human, Jesus, Lord, mercies, psalm 102, remain, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

The psalm refrain for today from Psalm 102 is so direct and familiar. The psalmist begs: O Lord, hear my prayer, and let my cry come to you! This morning I heard it as a call from Jesus as he moved toward Jerusalem. He must have had days when he wondered about God’s purpose for his life – those days when everything he had done seemed futile because the crowds were so slow to recognize the deep meaning of what he was teaching. Psalm 102 rocks back and forth between deep anguish and steadfast faith, not just about his own destiny but that of all God’s people. Thinking this way does not make Jesus less strong in my eyes, but more human and accessible on the days when today’s world seems on the brink of disaster. There is a beautiful translation of the middle verses of the psalm – one might say “the heart” of it all – where I believe Jesus called up the strength to stand steadfast in all that was to come. May we join him in the prayer.

But you, O you remain, my God; your name endures from age to age. For from eternity and into time your mercies rise, each moment your compassion appears in full. And even in these ruins of the heart it moves, and we your servants, Lord, are stirred to love and care for even dust. The peoples of the world shall come at last to speak your name with awe. The rulers of the heart shall see your beauty and finally comprehend. For you, O Lord, will take the ruined places of our world and lovingly will raise them back again, for you have heard the cries of all the broken-hearted ones, and answering, you give them each a place to be and stand. Let this be written now so in generations yet to come, our children will hear and learn to praise. For from a vantage point beyond this world you view us all and understand. (vs. 13-20)