Mother Seton

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loss, love of God, sorrow, St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, teacher, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, women, women religious

I’ve just been reading about the life of Elizabeth Ann Bayley Seton, the first American-born saint. She is not a stranger to me. She was born in New York (less than 200 miles from my home) and although she lived from just before the American Revolution until the early 19th century (1774-1821) she was canonized a saint of the Roman Catholic church in 1975 when I had already been teaching for four years in a Catholic high school. It was quite a celebration for the United States, for women, especially women religious, and for teachers to see “one of our own” – in any one or all of those categories – raised to the level of sainthood.

Mother Seton, as she is commonly known, knew many sorrows in her life, losing many loved ones including her parents, husband and several children at a young age. She was, however, always steadfast in her faith – first as an Episcopalian and later a Roman Catholic with a fervent belief in and love of the Eucharist. A reflection on the website http://www.franciscanmedia.com described her as someone who was an ordinary person who led an extraordinary life. “Not a mystic or a stigmatic,” she lived with great faith and said, “God has given me a great deal to do, and I have always and hope always to prefer his will to every wish of my own.” All she needed was the love for God that enabled her to keep going and keep loving. That is a brand of sanctity that is open to all of us and that is the best reason to celebrate Mother Seton on this, her feast day.

Advice from Mother Earth

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courage, lament, love, Mother Earth, Peace, preparedness, sorrow, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, unexpected

All the news over the past few days has been about mass shootings. As a nation, we still expect peace and are surprised by the ever more frequent attacks on groups of innocent victims. Each day it becomes more difficult to trust in a day ahead that will be peaceful. And yet…and yet we do. I am sitting here running through a list in my mind of the tasks to be done, determined not to forget anything that can’t wait another day. I do that without even a thought that violence could interrupt the flow of my day.

Where is the balance between trusting in life and preparedness for the unexpected? And how does one prepare for what is unknown? How would I react to a violent attack? There is good evidence, if one can believe the interviews with people who have just experienced such a situation, that courage mixes with fear in moments like that and usually triumphs. People help each other, care for the wounded, mourn those lost and are forever changed as part of a collective sorrow.

Yesterday we had three storms: torrential rain, thunder and lightning, wild wind. It was as if the earth were lamenting with us, for us, and cleansing the atmosphere for a new day. “We are all one,” Mother Earth seems to say. “Lament is necessary to our survival, but so is courage. Band together to help each other when the courage is demanded. Love each other at all times and you will be prepared for anything. Be at peace. In your hearts and in your homes, always be at peace!”

Unanswered Questions

Tags

loss, sorrow, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, tornado, unite

We have just celebrated a three-day weekend in the Northeast USA, grateful for two or three days of sunshine that allowed outdoor activities. It’s raining now and I am going to my office this morning. A stiff breeze has just warned me of the necessity of closing my bedroom window and I’m wondering when I will be able to rake up all the grass I mowed into rows yesterday and how messy the project will be…

I blink and shift to a broader consciousness: all the people whose concerns are so much more than my own today. Pictures of tornado damage in so many states in our country’s mid-section are hardly believable. Winds of up to 160 miles an hour have left only shards of wood that were once walls and cars lie piled on top of one another or under huge, uprooted trees. And there seems no end in sight to the storms.

Sorrow and gratitude play within me as I face the day. Is it only luck that has placed me in this small corner of the world? We have flood damage on occasion but have generally been spared from the serious loss occasioned by such weather conditions. What can I do short of leaving home and traveling to disaster regions? (A monetary donation would be minuscule in the face of the destruction.) What then? Prayer of lament? I think so…But what else can I offer to those who find themselves homeless and bereft? How might I best unite myself to others who suffer such loss?

Too Deep for Words

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body of Christ, crucifixion, Good Friday, lament, pain, silence, sorrow, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Today, sorrow and lament fill the praying world as ritual attempts in word and song and sometimes even gesture to reach the depth of pain that is recalled to us from across the ages as “the scandal of the cross,” the suffering and death of Jesus. If awake enough, we see this suffering repeated again and again in our own time and know it as a vivid manifestation of the pain body of Christ. In that way it becomes our pain as well since we are not separate but merely different cells in that very real and present body.

There is nothing we can say that approaches the profundity of that truth, that mystery. There is only silence…

 

 

 

 

 

Tuesday of Holy Week

Tags

blessing, Book of Hours, conscience, contradictions, Holy Week, light, Peace, sorrow, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas Merton, torment, will

Having nothing of merit to say on this Tuesday of Holy Week, I search Thomas Merton for a worthy word. Although he never disappoints, I find myself looking unsuccessfully for something soothing to counteract the sorrow of what is to come as this week progresses. I settle for an admission of God’s greatness (the only safeguard for us in distress) and the necessity of surrender if we are to take up our role and responsibility in concert with God.

Almighty and merciful God, Father of all, Creator and Ruler of the Universe, Lord of History, whose designs are inscrutable, whose glory is without blemish, whose compassion for the errors of men is inexhaustible, in your will is our peace.

Resolve our inner contradictions, which now grow beyond belief and beyond bearing. They are at once a torment and a blessing: for if you had not left us the light of conscience, we would not have to endure them.

Grant us to seek peace where it is truly found! In your will, O God, is our peace! (Thomas Merton’s Book of Hours, p. 107-108)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clinging to Hope

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alive, beginnings, Celtic Treasure, Christ, Easter, faith, Holy Week, hope, Jesus, John Philip Newell, Lent, love, new life, promise, solace, sorrow, stay the course, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, turmoil

For so many people I have encountered in so many places recently, life seems to be a continual walk in the dark. For Christians who are following the path of Lent, walking with Jesus ever closer to the events of what we call Holy Week, the heaviness of these days can be an opportunity even as we find our energy sapped by news of a world in deep turmoil. Another school shooting yesterday, panic in Austin, Texas over serial bomb explosions, wildly destructive coastal storms and personal tragedies or disappointments leave us wondering when and how it will all end. Will Easter bring us solace and the promise of new life?

Today it is a prayer from John Philip Newell’s book, Celtic Treasure, that calls me to consciousness. May it be a reminder and an encouragement for us to “stay the course” in hope, clinging to the transformative power of faith and love.

You are within and among us, O Christ, as the one who is alive for ever. In the sorrows and sufferings of our lives you are with us as the one who holds the keys of new beginnings. There is no ending in the world, there is no fear in our lives, there is no despair in our hearts, that your living presence cannot unlock. You are within and among us, O Christ, as the one who is alive for ever. (p. 214)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Living Love

Tags

Entering the Silence, forgive, kind, live, love, loved ones, patient, Paul, Peace, sorrow, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas Merton

As is often the case, I woke up today with song lyrics in my head. This time it was a familiar text from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, chosen by countless people for a wedding reading. You know it too, I’ll wager. Love is patient, love is kind, love is ready to forgive, sings Jeannie Cotter with David Haas ready to jump in as the lyrics veer off a bit from Paul. The last line of the chorus summarizes the message beautifully, however, when both sing that in love we choose to live.

I usually wait for a second sign if the song doesn’t go away by the time I sit down and root around inside and outside for a message. As I take stock of the previous day (or, as in this case, two days since I had no internet service yesterday) my theme often becomes perfectly clear. Yesterday was a day of communicating with loved ones – in person or on the phone – who are dealing with issues of deep sorrow. I carry them now and will continue to do so on this day where quiet and inaction is being enforced by the ice and snow outside. As I move through the hours I will take Thomas Merton with me as well to help me stay in the sphere of loving consciousness. Won’t you join me?

Every day love corners me somewhere and surrounds me with peace without having to look very far or very hard or do anything special. (Entering the Silence, p. 196)

 

A Cry Heard in Ramah

Tags

children, Herod, jeremiah, massacre, Matthew, parents, prophecy, Ramah, sorrow, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, violence

Today is not a happy remembrance in the calendar of Church feasts. It is the commemoration of “the Holy Innocents,” the victims of Herod’s massacre of all the baby boys under two years old. Herod was determined to eliminate the possibility that someone – a “new-born” king (Jesus) – would usurp his power. Since he had no idea of where that child might be found, his rage prompted the terrible deed that left so many mothers bereft. It was a fruitless gesture, as violence always is, because Jesus and his parents were well on their way to Egypt when the massacre occurred.

This violence is replicated in our time whenever war and senseless killing happens around the world. I see in my mind’s eye faces of Syrian children in the bombed-out buildings in Aleppo. Closer to home are the images of Sandy Hook just five years ago this month. Although murder is always difficult to endure, the tragedy always seems more horrific when innocent children are killed almost before their lives have begun.

I am praying for parents today, especially for mothers who have lost a child for any reason or no reason at all. For those whose children die because of senseless violence, drug abuse, war, starvation, traffic or other accidents, suicide…so many causes that leave a gaping hole in the hearts of those left behind.

The poignant message of today’s gospel, which Matthew (MT 2:18) saw as
the fulfillment of Jeremiah’s prophecy, calls for our prayer for the sorrowing today. We cannot ignore the pain of his words that speak to the cry heard in our own day around the world: “A voice was heard in Ramah, sobbing and loud lamentation; Rachel weeping for her children, and she would not be consoled, since they were no more.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Singing A New Song

Tags

courage, disasters, distress, injury, path, psalm 116, return to the Lord, sorrow, strength, struggle, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, trust in the Lord

This morning’s selection from Psalm 116 sounds like a continuation of Psalm 84 from yesterday. It started with verse 12: “How shall I make a return to the Lord for all the good God has done for me?” (as I walked the path of life). As I reflected on that line and the parenthetical implication of what the psalmist was talking about, I was concerned about offering it as a thought for the day because it sounded as if the “path” was an easy one. I thought of all the people who have struggled mightily in life. Images came to mind of all the natural disasters in this country this year and of “wounded warriors” interviewed while doing physical therapy. The line sounded a bit presumptuous of the psalmist (and even myself in offering it). But then I went back and read the earlier verses, those not printed in this morning’s reading, and here is what I found:

“The cords of death entangled me, the anguish of the grave came over me; I was overcome by distress and sorrow… I trusted in the Lord when I said, ‘I am greatly afflicted’. In my alarm I said, ‘Everyone is a liar.'”

So the psalm doesn’t tell of an easy life for which one thanks God. It reflects the TRUST of those who are able (like the survivors of tornadoes and forest fires or flash floods – and even those learning to live without a limb lost in battle) to pick up and go on, praising God for the life that is still theirs.

So this morning I offer the question of how to make a return to God for all the good in my life. And even if you have to dig deep, perhaps you might do so also, looking at how you found the courage and strength to go on. Can you offer it all to God in thanks?