Waiting…Again!

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change, sadness, surrender, tension, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, waiting

“Blessed are all who wait for the Lord!” (Psalm refrain for today’s liturgy)

Recently I echoed in this blog the question of one of our Sisters who asked repeatedly: What are we waiting for? I was surprised when I put that question to myself just now and was greeted by several responses. The big things like: I’m waiting for the pandemic to cease, for a vaccine that stems the tide of deaths, for an end to racial violence in our country. I’m waiting as well for January 20th, Inauguration Day in our country when a sense of stability might return to us…slowly but surely. In a more personal way, I’m waiting for someone to hug me—safely. I’m waiting to go to a celebratory liturgy in a real—not virtual—church, and the privilege of travel to meet my cousin Molly’s new twin girls, born this past week.

I could go on…but each of us has our thoughts on that subject. The tension, sadness or frustration that can arise when contemplating this kind of thinking comes partially, I think, from the helplessness we feel because of our inability to change the situations. We are unable to change any of the things mentioned and many more. In our country, as in many places in today’s world, we are not schooled to patience. It is not in our make-up any more to wait because waiting implies surrender and that is not the American way.

What would it cost you today to surrender to “what is” and allow God to work with your helplessness? Might you get to a place of willingness? A place where you let go of your plans and move toward something deeper? lighter?

Eileen

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conversation with God, gratitude, heaven, life and death, rest in peace, sadness, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

I’ve been sitting for some time now trying to concentrate on this almost daily task. It seems impossible after reading the news of my friend, Eileen Peters. She passed on the day before yesterday to what will certainly be a glorious reward for her life here on earth. Her fidelity to her husband Dave, her seven grown children and many “grands” — the last being born a day before she left us — had prepared her for the welcome that must have greeted her. I can imagine her lively conversation with God; she was used to that while here. I can see her walking right in and making herself comfortable in her new surroundings. It was always hard to keep up with her on a hike so I presume she is settled by now.

It was Dave’s weekly blog about the process of her illness over the past year that allows this feeling of lightheartedness in me. So many images of connection with Eileen fill my mind that there is no room yet for the sadness that will surely come as we gather to pray together in gratitude for her. The recounting of her courage and willingness grounded in the love that surrounded and sustained her was so vivid with gratitude that it is impossible not to understand something deeper about life and death and new life that I have not known before.

I have no doubt that she rests in peace now and I give thanks for lessons learned and friendship shared. Amen.

The Element of Surprise

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anxiety, life, Rainer Maria Rilke, sadness, surprising, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

The days seem to be getting shorter and the nights longer now but it’s really just an illusion since the calendar still promises 24 hours (give or take a few seconds). It’s really just the light that has changed or diminished and it’s sometimes harder to keep our inner light switched on. I read a quote from Rainer Maria Rilke this morning that is somewhat comforting as I yawn my way into the morning, remembering how rich in events yesterday was and hoping for the same on this grayish, chilly day.

You mustn’t be frightened if a sadness rises in front of you, larger than any you have ever seen; if an anxiety, like light and cloud-shadows, moves over your hands and over everything you do. You must realize that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall.

Perhaps today will be as surprising as any other…Why not?

Nehemiah

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Nehemiah, rejoice in the Lord, sadness, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Today’s first reading from the Hebrew Scriptures is from one of the historical books: Nehemiah – usually paired with the Book of Ezra. I must admit that I have little knowledge of this man or his writings but today I find that I could happily spend the day with him if I had nothing else pressing to do! My interest was piqued by a sentence in the reading that seemed like it could be said today when there is so much to lament in our country and the world.

After reading out and explaining the law to the gathered populace (from daybreak to midday!), Ezra, the scribe, was joined by “His Excellency” Nehemiah who exhorted the crowd: Do not be saddened this day, for rejoicing in the Lord must be your strength! It seems that Nehemiah, a layman, was himself so distressed at the sad state of ruin in Jerusalem that he asked to be permitted to go and rebuild – a request that was granted by the king.

Since it is already 9:22 A.M., long past my normal posting window of time, I will conclude by saying two things. First, I plan to spend some time getting to know Nehemiah and his moment in history, and secondly, I suggest we all try not to spend the day in sadness – no matter the trials – because our strength truly does come, as Nehemiah reminds us, from rejoicing in the Lord, our loving and bountiful God.

Betrayal

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betrayal, conversation, faith formation, Jesus, Judas, Last Supper, Matthrew, sadness, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

I was a parish faith formation director when mini-courses first made their appearance in religious education. I was a fan for several reasons, not the least of which was the fact that it was easier to get four teachers (one for each 6-week commitment) than to find one willing to show up consistently for a 24-session course. The students also liked the diversity of teachers and topics. One year I decided to push the envelope even further by offering a one-week intensive which would replace one of the 6-week courses for 9th or 10th graders. The curriculum was as follows: mandatory attendance at an introductory 90-minute overview in the week prior to Holy Week as well as participation in services on Palm Sunday, Holy (Maundy) Thursday, Good Friday and the Easter Vigil and a one-page reflection paper on the experience, submitted within 2 weeks after Easter. Many of the students took up the challenge and profited so greatly from the experience that I repeated the course for a number of years. One of the added benefits of the experiment was the fact that most of the students needed a ride to church so many parents participated with them and found it profitable as well.

The moment of most impact for many of the students was an exercise during the introductory session. I passed out a paper with a graphic of a large table and twelve circles, representing guests at a festive meal. Students were asked to think of the twelve most important people in their lives whom they would invite to such a gathering. They wrote the initials of their guests in the circles, pictured the full table, the enjoyment of the participants and their own satisfaction at having such good family and friends with whom to celebrate. Then they were to picture themselves the next day at a store and imagine the following scenario. As they were considering a purchase they suddenly heard two people talking in the next aisle. When they recognized the voices of two people who had been at their party the night before and just at the moment of preparing to join them, the conversation turned to comments on the previous night’s experience. The two friends spoke in derogatory terms about the whole event and about their “friend” – the host – as well. At this point I asked the students to react on paper to how they presumed they would feel in such a situation.

While the above situation pales as we think of today’s gospel of the Last Supper (MT 26:14-25) and the betrayal of Judas, for young teenagers it could be as if the floor dropped out of their world. If you have never experienced a betrayal by any significant person in your life, thank God! If, however, you have had or can conjecture what such a moment would be like, consider the sadness of Jesus at the betrayal of his friend and companion, Judas. Perhaps you will be led to a conversation with Jesus where you are the comforter and he is in need of your presence.

 

 

 

 

 

The Great Divide

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attitude, closed, compromise, criticism, furloughed, government shutdown, hopelessness, lifting up, negativity, non-essential, sadness, solution, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Our federal government is in shutdown mode today. It’s difficult to comprehend what a sweeping statement that is. It does not mean that just the senators and representatives are not working. It isn’t like a holiday when the banks and post offices are closed. All “non-essential” federal employees are “furloughed” and won’t be paid until the situation changes. This affects entities like the military, the Centers for Disease Control, security at airports…just to name a few. Not being paid until the situation changes is as much a psychological issue for some as it is the physical lack of a paycheck. As I read what is termed “non-essential” I feel a sense of sadness and the hopelessness that comes of the inability in any relationship to reach a compromise. It’s difficult enough for two people who don’t agree on something and cannot seem to find a way through the impasse, let alone 100 senators and 435 representatives! At this moment in our history, this “shutdown” is emblematic of the divide in beliefs and the inability or unwillingness of people to listen deeply so as to hear and find ways to solutions.

What do we do now? Call me crazy but I think “solution” starts with attitude and the willingness to give up criticism as a way of social interaction. What is the content of our everyday speech? Do we find ways of lifting people up rather than finding their faults or just ignoring them altogether? Negativity is insidious and rampant now. Perhaps our efforts to turn things around will have farther reaching effects than we realize. And why not start by praying for our senators and representatives…and even the President…for a swift and amicable compromise?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not Knowing, Encore

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anxiety, compassion, death, devastation, distress, Louisiana, Rainer Maria Rilke, sadness, sharing, Texas, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

That place of “not-knowing” that I spoke of yesterday still holds me today as I think of the storm called Harvey that just won’t quit. How do people recover from that kind of devastation – both environmental and human? Even here, at almost the farthest northern point in our country away from those swirling waters and broken lives, I feel viscerally the distress and death. Physical death, the death of dreams, of possessions – all must reside inside any of us who have even seen the images on television and more likely if we know people living in Texas – and today in Louisiana. I have rarely felt the draw of depression on such a scale.

Slogging through the images in my mind I try to focus on the concomitant pictures of and interviews with those who have come with their boats or their bodies, strong enough to contribute to the rescue of so many stranded inhabitants of the flood zones. And then I read a small snatch of something Rilke wrote that seems like a far-fetched thought to bring to the present conversation but is all I have to offer to my sadness.

You mustn’t be frightened, he writes, if a sadness rises in front of you, larger than you have ever seen; if an anxiety, like light and cloud-shadows, moves over your hands and over everything you do. You must realize that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall.

Perhaps that sadness and anxiety is leading to a deeper ability to be compassionate, a deeper willingness for unity – knowing that we are all connected and owe each other our sharing in that pain of loss. I don’t know and so here I can only sit offering my “not-knowing.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shock Treatment

Tags

depth, face shine, give me a sign, glorify God, light, lightning, longing, Matthew, Passion, psalm 119, sadness, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, yearning

There are several references to light in today’s lectionary readings. Psalm 119 is both indirect and direct, calling on God to “let your face shine upon me,” while also saying to God that “the revelation of your words sheds light.” Jesus speaks very directly, telling his hearers (MT 6) “You are the light of the world” and then commanding them to “let your light shine before others” – not for personal gain, however, but to glorify God, the source of light.

I am occasionally not so fond of light shining on me – like this morning after less than 6 hours of sleep when the sun was already up over the mountain and calling me to open my eyes at 5:20AM. There was no way to hide from that light; covering my face under even a sheet in the sudden summery heat would have been suffocating. Facing the day seemed the more sane option.

One line in the Psalm response (119:131) was like a bolt of lightning ten minutes later and made my grudging start to the day worthwhile. I was not reading from any alternate, poetic or modern translation – just the USCCB* version – but the light of that line was clearly shocking me awake.  Just after the verse about God’s words shedding light, the psalm said this: I gasp with open mouth in my yearning for your commands. That’s a far cry from “Teach me, O Lord, your statutes…”

Yearning is defined as “a feeling of intense longing for something” with synonyms such as longing, craving, hankering, urge, ache…To yearn, the dictionary says, stresses the depth and passion of a desire, sometimes accompanied by sadness. The psalmist was obviously craving the light of God, love being the motivating force but the weight of the world perhaps dimming the path toward that light. It seems to me that a sense of distance from God crashed into the psalmist’s desire like a punch in the stomach that caused such a gasp of yearning. I can just hear the follow-on to that cry to God: Tell me what you want! or Where are You? I’m overcome with longing and searching. Just give me a sign! I’m guessing that just the experience of that gasping in the yearning would have awakened a new depth in relationship with God. And who would not be willing to experience that?

*United States Conference of Catholic Bishops