The Body of Christ

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body of Christ, Divine Mercy Sunday, fierce bonding love, resurrection, Symeon, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, unconditional love

Today is the “Second Sunday of Easter,” reminding us that the celebration of Christ’s Resurrection is not to be thought of simply as a day but rather as an on-going reality. As I write that I am reminded of the poem by Symeon the New Theologian, a man who lived at the turn of the first millennium (949-1022). He writes: “We awaken in Christ’s body as Christ awakens our bodies, and my poor hand is Christ; He enters my foot and is infinitely me…” – rather startling concepts in a work of 1,000 years ago, but one that gives us pause to consider the importance of what we celebrate as “the mystical body of Christ.”

Today is also designated in the Roman Catholic Church as “Divine Mercy Sunday,” promulgated by Pope St. John Paul II in the year 2000. Although our concept of the mercy of God has historically focused on our human failings and sinfulness, the placement of this feast on the Sunday following the Resurrection calls us to consideration of the “fierce, bonding love” of God for us. (see: Helen Luke, Old Age)

Today, then, let us be grateful for the total, unconditional love of God that is poured out on us each day and the call of that love to be manifested in us as cells in the body of Christ.

Deeper Knowing

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inner change, Jesus, John, Mary Magdalene, mission, recognize, renewal, resurrection, surrender, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, unconditional love, universal love

During this Easter season the lectionary readings are worthy of some serious pondering. That’s no surprise, given the events of the past week recounted in Scripture. Today (JN 20:11-18) we read a good example in two ways of how the passage through death has changed not only Jesus himself but also his relationship with his beloved disciple.

First, on the day of Christ’s Resurrection, Mary Magdalene, the faithful and well-loved companion of Jesus, encounters him near the tomb and thinks he is the gardener! How could she not recognize him??? I’m always reminded with this story of the day I didn’t recognize a priest who used to come often and help me with high school retreats. He had been on a year’s sabbatical during which he had studied spirituality for a semester, done a 30-day Ignatian retreat, lost some weight, shaved the mustache without which I had never seen him, and in addition sported a new “buzz cut” on his head. As he processed down the church aisle at a celebration for one of our Sisters, I wondered who he was. It was not until he began to speak that I knew him. I heard his voice and was shocked immediately into recognition. And he was also different inside – a softer, more humble and gracious “self” that could be felt to those who really saw the result of his “renewal.”

Secondly today, when Mary moves toward Jesus because he speaks her name with a tenderness that only love can express, he stops her (“Do not cling to me…”) and gives her a missionary task (“Go to my brothers and tell them…”). Evidently Christ’s”resurrection body” is somehow different; his journey through death changed him in some significant way both physically and spiritually. Surrendering everything he was then ready to manifest his divinity to the one who loved him faithfully. The relationship was deeper than a physical connection.When Mary realized her new role of messenger/missionary to her companions and to the world, she understood that her surrender was just beginning. Living from the heart had become her mission.

We would do well to contemplate these passages, these calls to unconditional and universal love presented to us today. What inner change must accompany such a shift in our life?

Between the Times

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Acts of the Apostles, Ascension, crucifixion, Father, fear, John, Lectionary, Pentecost, pray, resurrection, Son, Spirit of God, The Great Commission, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

The lectionary readings for this seventh Sunday of Easter find us between an ending and a new beginning and we, in the same manner as the disciples, need to be willing to sit in this empty space, reflecting on what has been and waiting for the movement of the Spirit to call us once again to a courageous future.

In the first reading (Acts 1: 12-14) we find the apostles trudging back to Jerusalem after having received “the Great Commission” from Jesus. He had finished his mission and passed on to them what was now theirs to do: to go out to the world and teach what he had first taught them. So today they are together again as they were after the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Jesus. Was it the same “upper room” where they had huddled in fear for their lives? What were they feeling now? Fearful still, perhaps, without the certainty now that they would be safe going forward. Bereft, most likely, because they were again without the presence of Jesus for their strength. But at least they were together in the company of those who had experienced Jesus in what we would certainly call a privileged way. And together they were praying for the Spirit of God to come and reveal to them the manner in which they were to fulfill their mission.

In the gospel for today we have a glimpse of this ending from the perspective of Jesus. John’s Gospel (17: 1-11) could seem like a son reporting to his father his completion of a project – for school, maybe – by recounting all the steps he had taken and how successful the whole enterprise had been. This scene, however, was much more. Jesus was just on the cusp of leaving those he loved, that small band of followers who had listened to him, learned from him, supported him and sometimes disappointed him, but loved him enough to stay with him through death to new life. His care for and pride in these beloved ones is clear in his recounting to God. Consider your feelings if you had overheard Jesus saying to God: They belonged to you and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word…I pray for them. What a validation of their discipleship! Moreover, these lines seem to express a deep tenderness in which Jesus holds those he called his friends.

Let us take some time in these days between the feasts of the Ascension and Pentecost to sit in this space of emptiness, preparing for a renewed outpouring of the Spirit in our lives and remembering that Jesus promises to us as he did his disciples: I am with you always, until the end of the age.

Psalm 8

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Ancient Songs Sung Anew, born again, David Haas, Everything will live, nature, night sky, psalm 8, rebirth, resurrection, stars, Ward Bauman

This is the moment when, in concert with the Scripture texts about resurrection, the earth in my neighborhood begins to come alive again. I always say I would never want to live anywhere but in the Northeast of the United States because of the beauty and example of the cyclic nature of life that we see in the seasons. As I write, I hear somewhere deep inside the strains of a hymn by David Haas, repeating the words Everything will live! over and over. As I look out, I see the red that is the first sign of renewal on the maple trees. Soon there will be a red carpet on the ground and the tiny leaves will take their rightful place, having been “born again” from the sleep of winter. The psalmist sings the refrain: O Lord, our God, how wonderful your name in all the earth! (PS 8:2) Surely it is a moment to join in praising the Creator for such a gift and to recognize as well our own place in the creation.

Ward Bauman reflects on this theme, saying: This psalm is a beloved hymn to the God of the universe. Imagine the psalmist standing at night under the bright canopy of stars singing this poem. The night sky has always been for humanity a source of wonder and awe. Looking up on a clear night with the vast star-field spread out above puts our lives and world into a very different perspective. We see ourselves as small and insignificant in this vastness, but are we? A voice out of the universe seems to answer our question, “You have a sacred place and a role to fulfill.” (Ancient Songs Sung Anew, p. 17)

As we move more deeply into this season of rebirth, let us be mindful of our relationship to the universe in which we live and to its Creator. In that mindful space, may we come to understand and to value more deeply the role that we are called to fulfill in the sacred place that we call our home.

 

 

 

 

 

Recognition

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grace, grief, Jesus, John, kenosis, Mary Magdalene, Passion, relinquishment, restoration, resurrection, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, weeping

I’m always happy in the Easter season to hear the Sunday gospel readings repeated in the daily lectionary; it can help us to go deeper and maybe allow us to pick up nuances that have previously escaped our notice. Take for example this morning’s text from John 20:11-18 – my favorite of all.

Mary Magdalene has finally achieved her rightful place in the story of Jesus, especially in the events surrounding what we have come to call the Paschal Mystery – the events of Christ’s passion, death and resurrection. Her fidelity is clear as she is mentioned in all four gospels, not only as the one who appears at all these events – from the foot of the cross, through the burial, to the garden of the resurrection. And she is the one who announces to the other followers of Jesus that he has risen from the dead. We know all these things.

What catches my attention this morning (as it often does) is Mary’s state of heart in that garden. I try to put myself in her place: half crazy with grief at the horrible death of the one who has not only loved her but has virtually saved her life – turned it around and given her new meaning. That’s a lot to be thankful for, of course, but there is also the mutual deepening of their relationship over the time since they first met. So when she comes to anoint his body one more time and finds the whole scene disrupted, her mind cannot hold the possibility of grave snatchers or worse so she doesn’t recognize that the “guards” at the tomb are angels. (How did that happen? Where did the human guards go?) To compound her grief, no one will give her information about where he is; they all just keep asking why she’s weeping. Even Jesus, who must have been changed in a way that made her mistake him for the gardener, asks her the same question. (How could she not recognize him? How different might a resurrection body appear?)

The most wonderful and telling moment in the whole drama is when Jesus simply says her name. When we are called by name, be it by a relative, a special friend or the person most closely related to us in love, it sounds different from any other time we hear it. Mary recognized Jesus at the sound of her own name. How thrilling that moment must have been! But that moment also had it’s price; the relationship has changed. The moment of restoration also becomes the moment of relinquishment. In order to experience the fullness of their connection, she must not cling to him. In the same manner that Jesus emptied himself to become human, he now resumes his place in the divinity of God and it is Mary who is called to reconcile the meaning of kenosis in her life now. Therein lies the fullness of the mystery of Easter, I think.

Just as Mary had to “let go” of Jesus in order to become the apostolic presence needed in her world, so we also must come to the maturity of faith that recognizes the depth of commitment called for by the Christian path in our day. It couldn’t have been easy for Mary to relinquish the Jesus that had brought her so far in order to gain the Christ whose divine fire was capturing her heart in a new way. Perhaps it is the repetition of the question, Why are you weeping? that is a clue to this “difficult grace” being offered to Mary and to us. If Mary were not ready for this jump in consciousness, she would, most likely, have dissolved in tears and missed the moment. We grieve our losses – some more tearfully than others – but are we willing to dry our tears so that we can see with new eyes what might be right in front of us? Can we identify our name as it is being called toward a new way of being? Can we let go of what might be holding us back (even if what has been in our lives has been good and meaningful) in order to take the next step toward the fullness of the Christ life?

Let us pray for the grace to see in new ways and then to let go into the heart of God.

Streaming Thoughts

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Alleluia, Christian, daffodils, displacement, faith, Happy Easter, Holy Week, Palm Sunday, refugees, resurrection, Risen Christ, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, violence

So here I am, back as promised, to wish you a Happy Easter. It’s a little late in the day but I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to say that throughout the past week I was creating blog posts in my mind that, unfortunately, only made it a couple of times to print. Now we are in a different season altogether. It’s a sunny 65 degrees (F) here in upstate New York and the daffodils have come bursting to flower – very different from the cloudy, cold touring weather of two days ago. Holy Week is over, for which most people are grateful. It’s hard to think of all that violence and pain, after all. Much nicer to sing “Alleluia!” and rejoice in the Risen Christ.

On Thursday I was struck by two competing images that had a significant effect on my reflection about what was going on in the life of Jesus and friends as it related to the here and now. I was at a park known for its vast expanse of spring flowers – acres and acres of color in different configurations with hundreds – maybe thousands – of people exclaiming about the beauty and creativity of what was before them. Everyone was so uplifted; I thought of the crowds on Palm Sunday as Jesus entered Jerusalem to their shouts of praise. As I was leaving, the throng pouring through the gates made me think of a stream of refugees as I could hear many languages and see a diversity of  faces, all beautiful faces, moving toward an exit – toward home (?).

It would be a stretch to try to draw a direct line from one of those images to the other. I guess my thoughts were all background to the reality that life – although a series of moments – is also a wholeness where wild rejoicing and violence sometimes intertwine and where situations can change abruptly, leaving us to look for solutions which are sometimes very hard to find – or even impossible.

Even as we celebrate the Resurrection of Christ, we know that there are hordes of people suffering from violence, being forced from their homelands and refused, in some cases, a safe place of refuge. How are we to reconcile this reality with the core of Christian faith? How can we rise when our brothers and sisters are still held down?

I remember a poem from long ago that began: Easter people everywhere, shining Jesus love…” That seems the only answer to my question right now. I need to be listening for what I can do to alleviate the pain of displacement that is so vast in our world. And while I’m listening, I need to be radiating love to all those who need to know that resurrection is possible – not in a simplistic way (There are no simplistic soluntions in this complex world) but in the only way we can proceed: in hope and love and trust and willingness. And in solidarity – never separating ourselves from those who need us and count on us to transmit our reasons for hope to them.

I wonder what I would have written if I had started on Thursday and been successful at posting then – and on Friday and yesterday. Would today’s words have wiped away the recognitions that appear above? Is it ever that way for us? Can we ever let go of the reality of yesterday in order to let in today? But how do we hold both? Ah, therein lies the rub…and it will take more than today to settle on a response. Maybe that is a task for the Fifty Days of Easter…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life After Life

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afterlife, All Souls Day, Christ, Die before you die, faith, God, Lent, near death experiences, resurrection, self-emptying, surrender, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, wisdom

It’s difficult to talk intelligently about something you have never experienced. Sometimes it helps to hear descriptions others give of what has happened to and for them, but there is still a measure of faith needed in those cases in order to believe what they share. This is true especially in stories of “near death experiences” as they give witness to what is perhaps the greatest mystery of life: our death and what lies on the other side of that moment. The Scriptures for this feast of All Souls, when we remember “the faithful departed,” all speak of the hope and the conviction that the souls of the just are in the hand of God and no torment shall touch them. They seemed, in the view of the foolish, to be dead; and their passing away was thought an affliction and their going forth from us, utter destruction. But they are in peace. (WIS:3:1-9)

I have known this tenet of faith seemingly all my life and have great hopes for an afterlife filled with God but perceptions around that concept have changed over the years and learnings of my life as to what it truly means. As I wrote the title of this morning’s reflection, what arose was a parallel phrase that has become a practice for me over the past several years of Wisdom studies. “Die before you die,” I heard inside myself. Although that sounds rather macabre, what it really means in the everyday is a letting go of what does not serve my growth in order to be ready for the ultimate letting go at the end of my physical life. It’s the follow-on from childhood, one could say, when giving up candy or criticism during Lent helped us to prepare for the day of Christ’s resurrection to new life as indicative of what is in store for us. Now I think of such “giving up/over” as surrender – like the self-emptying of Jesus – in order to be ready for transformation into the lightness of being that is indicated in the Wisdom reading where it says that in the time of their visitation they shall shine and shall dart about as sparks through stubble.

Light is dawning outside my window and it looks like the sun will soon burst forth in the glory of a new day. Just one more metaphor for life after life that sustains me as I prepare for what is ahead in this brief and mysterious gift of life on earth.

First Apostle

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Annunciation, Apostle to the Apostles, gossip, Jesus, John, Mary, Mary Magdalene, resurrection, resurrection body, sensationalism, service to God, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

One of the most severe cases of mistaken identity of all time belongs to Mary Magdalene whose feast day we celebrate today. After almost 20 centuries of notoriety, scriptural scholarship has finally recognized that there is no basis for her reputation as “a harlot” or a great sinner. On the contrary, we now recognize her as “Apostle to the Apostles” who first announced the Resurrection of Jesus to the disciples. She is the only person who is noted in all four gospels as having been present at the crucifixion and who remained at the tomb of Jesus. This day always reminds me of the danger of gossip and of the lure of sensationalism in stories told of famous people. We have only to look in the grocery store checkout lines to see lurid photos (often cobbled together and “photo-shopped”) that match rumored headlines about movie stars and are frequently untrue.

More than a reminder of right thinking, however, this feast is about relationship and the fidelity that springs from great love. Jesus defied convention in his day by having women in his company of disciples. Closest in relationship to him, as we now intuit especially from the stories of his death and resurrection, was Mary. Today’s gospel is my favorite of those scenes as John places Mary in a garden by the tomb, mistaking Jesus for the gardener. (JN 20:11-18) It is when he says her name that she recognizes him, an indication both that he is somehow changed and also that his tone implies deep love between them. Her second recognition is of the change in him, manifested in what is often called his “resurrection body” – the enlightened state that signifies a shift in relationship for them as well. This new expansiveness reminds me of the Annunciation where Mary hears that she is to be the mother of Jesus. She had always been, we believe, faithful to God in her young life but now God asks more of her. At the moment in the garden when Jesus says to Magdalene, “Do not cling to me for I have not yet ascended,” this Mary accedes to her new role (not an easy one!) of announcing to the “brothers” what she has been told.

It is often the case that we are asked in the course of our lives to go beyond what we thought our lives were about to become more in service to God. Although sometimes a small thing, it may instead be a dramatic event that calls us to respond to what we could not have imagined that will change our lives forever. Both Marys provide examples of the need to practice willingness in order to be ready to respond with great love and surrender when the moment calls us forward. May it be so for all of us.

Monday Musing

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compassion, joy, Macrina Wiederkehr, Monday, positive attitude, resurrection, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, work

Sometimes Mondays are a challenge, depending on weekend activities and what today holds of work and other necessities. Sometimes it’s a day of enthusiasm, offering an opportunity to start again. In a dawn reflection author Macrina Wiederkehr writes the following:

“Morning is a call to our own resurrection, and so we reflect on what needs to rise in us. On some days, we may need to awaken to joy. Or perhaps we need to pray that a positive attitude for our work will be resurrected. Sometimes it is compassion for a particular co-worker, an aging parent, an alienated spouse, a troubled teenager or a colicky child that is needed. If you prayerfully look into your heart, you will probably know what kind of resurrection needs to take place to honor the Awakening Hour…No life
holds only joy and gladness; mixed in with delight is grief, doubt and
discouragement. Yet there is something very special about joy. It is quite
different from the happiness that can be short-lived and fleeting. Joy is the
ability to live with and through the sorrows…’Joy,’ the novelist Eugenia Price says, ‘is God in the marrow of our bones.'”

May today be a blessed Monday for each of us.

Good Morning!

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awaken, call, Easter, joy, morning, pray, resurrection, rise, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

In this middle day of the Third Week of Easter, I read a morning reflection that will be my guide for the day. In Seven Sacred Pauses: Living Mindfully Through the Hours of the Day author Macrina Wiederkehr writes that morning is a call to our own resurrection, and so we reflect on what needs to rise in us. On some days we may need to awaken to joy. Or perhaps we need to pray that a positive attitude for our work will be resurrected. Sometimes it is a positive attitude for a particular co-worker, an aging parent, an alienated spouse, a troubled teenager or a colicky child that is needed. If you prayerfully look into your heart, you will probably know what kind of resurrection needs to take place to honor the Awakening Hour.

What needs to rise in you today?