See and Hear with Open Hearts

A carpenter’s son? A neighbor’s child? Sometimes the familiar gets in the way of our seeing God’s work in our lives. We have preconceived ideas about what we can expect from the people we think we know so well. Our expectations can limit the possibilities for them to reveal God at work in them. I often hear parents say that their kids behave so much better, are much more willing to help or lend a hand, are more courteous and respectful to other parents or other adults than they are to them. Actually, they said that about me too when I was growing up. I think all of us have blind spots about so many people in our lives. We don’t seem to be able to see and to hear God’s deeds, God’s creation in our family, our friends, our bosses and co-workers, the people we sit next to in the pews, the workers in stores. Today we have come to use the words “I see you” to indicate that someone is not invisible to us. We say “I hear you” to indicate that we have listened deeply, have listened for understanding rather than argument or attempts to get them to agree with the way we think.

Our scripture readings are all about being sent to places and to people who are “hard of face and obstinate of heart.” Jesus was not able to do much in his hometown. What they believed about his upbringing kept them from believing in his wisdom and power, especially to heal.

Where in our own lives do we recognize our tendency to be “hard of face and obstinate of heart? How to we work to “listen” for what God might be saying and to “see” how God might be trying to get our attention? When we reflect on our experience of the pandemic, do we see and hear people that we think we know or knew, differently? Who do I choose to hear and see differently as a result of my reflection and prayer? In response to the Gospels we read? In response to the pleadings of prophets today?

We pray for the gift of faith that continues to recognize the goodness in all of God’s creation—even those we seek to avoid, to not see, and not hear or even talk to. Pope Francis reminds us to encounter others with love, compassion, and empathy that leads to MERCY.

Jesse Manibusan writes and sings that with open eyes and ears and hearts, “we’ll speak in new ways and we’ll see God’s face in places we’ve never known.”  Listen here:

To Be Made Well

The need for healings, the need for so much of God’s creation to be made well, is huge. Think of all the persons in your life who are in need of healing from illnesses, from abuse, addictions, shunning, fractured relationships, and exclusion. If I (or anyone) were being shunned today, if I were in need of healing, what is the closest thing to Jesus that I could touch and be healed? What is it about Jesus that made him notice, become aware, and do something about it when people of all kinds asked, in words and in actions, for life, for restoration to wholeness, for acceptance in the community?

Many of us remember June as being the month dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Our Scripture readings give us evidence of what stirs Jesus’ heart and how he responds with compassion and grants fullness of life to all who have faith and boldly ask to be made well. How will we, the community professing faith during our worship this weekend, participate in the healing work of Jesus, bringing all of God’s creation to wholeness and fullness of life?

Do You Not Care?

The apostles were terrified and woke up the “sleeping Jesus” with their cry, “Do you not care that we are perishing?” Quiet! Be still! Three simple commands from Jesus and the storm is calmed! The squalls, the waves, the boat beginning to take on water were all reasons to be terrified. These images also remind us of the times that we experience the “storms of life.” Fear of contracting the COVID-19 virus, the loss of so many lives (friends and family), the loss of the “normal” ways of doing things—shopping, schooling, churching, exercising, parenting, political differences, hate crimes, shootings, the murder of George Floyd, cyber-attacks, the February freeze and loss of power, our longing to touch and hug—all the squalls and waves that left us out of control. Was Jesus sleeping? Did we cry out with our fears? Did we think of ourselves as all being in the same boat? Jesus calms the physical storm on the water. Can those same words heal us today? Can we heal each other? Before the healing, we must admit that things are not right. We must name the sources of our fear. Cries of anguish, of loss, of feelings of defeat—like those found in half of the Psalms—all ask “Do you not care that we are…………..(fill in the blank)? In these storms of life, we are re-discovering the Catholic practice of lament!

We can move from fear to faith, even if it flounders! We can intentionally and consistently WORK to make things right. We have been fearful and uncomfortable. We are the ones who were asleep! Our new awakenings impel us to ACT with each other. Pope Francis keeps reminding us of just that!

Because of the coronavirus, Pope Francis gave his extraordinary blessing “urbi et orbi” (to the city and the world) in an empty St. Peter’s Square at the Vatican March 27, 2020. He said:

 Like the disciples in the Gospel we were caught off guard by an unexpected, turbulent storm. We have realized that we are on the same boat, all of us fragile and disoriented, but at the same time important and needed, all of us called to row together, each of us in need of comforting the other. On this boat … are all of us. Just like those disciples, who spoke anxiously with one voice, saying “we are perishing” (v. 38), so we too have realized that we cannot go on thinking of ourselves, but only together can we do this.

Pope Francis, Urbi et Orbi
address on Jesus calming the storm

Of Mustard Seeds, Plants and Relationships

Our readings this weekend are filled with images of nature, of God’s creation, of our relationship to nature and the meanings and actions that provide invitations to us. After the February extended freeze, many of us wondered what would happen to our plants. How surprised we have been to discover the resilience of many of them. I wasn’t surprised then when I discovered this quote: “In some Native languages the term for plants translates to “those who take care of us.” Plants take care of us? Yes! Think about it! How has your faith been restored, nurtured, or even discovered anew through the flourishing of the natural world during the pandemic? Do you remember the revelation of colorful fish in now clear waters of the Venetian canals? The playfulness of undisturbed animal habitats? The clearing of once polluted skies?

When we hear the gospel about the mustard seed, we are invited to reflect on what great things come from the smallest of seeds, seeds that are one of the frequent images used in parables and other teaching stories. Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants, the source of the previous quote, is described by reviewers as instructive poetry.  One review says:

As a botanist, Robin Wall Kimmerer has been trained to ask questions of nature with the tools of science. As a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, she embraces the notion that plants and animals are our oldest teachers. In Braiding Sweetgrass, Kimmerer brings these two lenses of knowledge together to take us on “a journey that is every bit as mythic as it is scientific, as sacred as it is historical, as clever as it is wise” (Elizabeth Gilbert).

Drawing on her life as an indigenous scientist, a mother, and a woman, Kimmerer shows how other living beings—asters and goldenrod, strawberries and squash, salamanders, algae, and sweetgrass—offer us gifts and lessons, even if we’ve forgotten how to hear their voices. In a rich braid of reflections that range from the creation of Turtle Island to the forces that threaten its flourishing today, she circles toward a central argument: that the awakening of a wider ecological consciousness requires the acknowledgment and celebration of our reciprocal relationship with the rest of the living world. For only when we can hear the languages of other beings will we be capable of understanding the generosity of the earth, and learn to give our own gifts in return.

Awakening to a wider ecological consciousness requires a reciprocal relationship with all of the living world. Hearing the languages of other beings—all kinds of beings—is what St. Francis of Assisi was so attuned to, so aligned with! We have new invitations! Our work in restoring the relationships between humans and nature is urgent! Will the seeds planted in our hearts, desirous of right relationships, be like mustard seeds?

To Give Blood

Have you given blood lately? For what purpose? For diagnosis of medical conditions? As life-giving or life-saving donations to those in need? Blood, sweat, and tears—the ultimate giving to something we are passionate about?

On this Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ Sunday, we read all about blood. The recognition of blood as sacred, as a symbol of life, is as old as humanity. Moses sealed the covenant with a blood ritual at the altar and in the sprinkling of the people with blood. This was an interplay between word and action. When we participate in the Eucharist, we hear “This is my blood of the covenant, which we will be shed for many.”

Jesus gave the cup to his disciples at the establishment of the Eucharist. As we continue that action in our liturgy, we are asking for the gift of life—life connected to Jesus, genuine closeness, a covenant of love, of presence, and of commitment. This is a bond of solidarity sealed with love. We become the body (and blood) of Christ! See what you are, become what you eat! We become Christ’s presence to God’s people!

The writings of St. Thomas Aquinas inspired this song by Curtis Stephan, a composer who juxtaposes new lyrics with the Latin lyrics many of us grew up with in Catholicism.

“Bread of Angels” by Curtis Stephan

Bread of angels, we receive you; with us now abide. Precious Jesus, manna of ages, with us now reside.

Panis angélicus fit panis hóminum, Dat panis cáelicus figúris términum.

Cup of Mercy overflowing, fill us with your grace; wine of passion, O Son begotten, we flee to your embrace.

O res mirábilis mandúcat Dóminum, Pauper, Pauper, servus, et húmilis.

Word incarnate, dwell within us; pierce our hardened hearts. Tender Jesus, Love so gentle, never let us part.

Te, trina Déitas únaque, póscimus, Sic nos tu vísita, sicut te cólimus.

Though unworthy, we receive you, sacrament divine. Bread of angels, accept our praises, let your glory shine! Per tuas sémitas duc nos quo téndimus, lucem, Ad lucem quam inhábitas.

Undivided Unity—The Trinity

When are we most aware of the Trinity in our lives? Think about it. When do we invoke Father, Son, and Holy Spirit? What images remind us of the Trinity? At a meeting that I attended this week, the leader began the prayer with the sign of the cross: “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” That was the prayer and he proceeded to explain why. Whatever we do next—at the meeting, in the morning when we wake up, at work, before our meals, at Mass, at prayer times—is done in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. We acknowledge that we are partners with God in continuing creation, in continuing relatedness. We acknowledge that the Father sent his Son who sent the Holy Spirit. They are so related, so connected, so in sync! No wonder then that so many images of the Trinity somehow display an “undivided unity.”

The life of the Trinity is ongoing. It is not self-contained or self-absorbed, but ever flowing outward, touching and embracing all of creation, all of life in unity and communion. Listen this weekend to all the ways God delights in creation. As we continue to be active in God’s continuing acts of creation, do we take delight in God?

Ron Rolheiser describes the Trinity this way: “God is community, family, parish, friendship, hospitality and whoever abides in these abides in God and God abides in him or her.” God is a trinity, a flow of relationships among persons. If this is true, and scripture assures us that it is, then the realities of dealing with each other in community, at the dinner table, over a bottle of wine or an argument, not to mention the simple giving and receiving of hospitality are not pure, secular experiences but the stuff of church, the place where the life of God flows through us.”  https://liturgy.slu.edu/TrinityB053021/reflections_rolheiser.html

We look forward to experiencing the life of God flowing through us this weekend as we share the Eucharist!