Third Sunday of Advent – Cycle A

11 December 2010
Comments (10)

Reflecting on James 5:7-10

It’s easy to tell someone to be patient, and so hard to actually do it.  Our children need us to watch them closely, but they also need enormous amounts of “looking the other way” as they mature and eventually find their way in the world without us.

Our aging parents need our patience.  As they deal with the greatest losses in life―loss of health, loss of memory―they need us to care for them, finding creative ways to help them recover strength and well-being in an increasingly unsettling world.

We need to be patient with ourselves, too.  Real change―changes in how we eat, how we live, how we regain strength after surgery or an illness―will surely come.  Just as the farmer awaits the yield of the soil by waiting for both the early and the late rains, we watch ourselves for the changes we work on little by little through the years.

Last spring I had an ingrown toenail removed.  The whole event took about six months.  The new nail grew in as the old nail died.  I could actually see the boundary between death and new life every time I examined my toe. We don’t see that transition as clearly in other parts of our lives until, one day, we look at someone we love and ask, “When did you get so tall?  So beautiful?  So self-assured?  When did you grow into yourself?”

Patience, people.  God is surely at work in us, giving us grace and insight as the years go by.  Watch for the changes in yourself that signal that the Lord has been near all along.

Sharing God’s Word at Home:

How can you help God help you make a real change?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

10 Comments to “Third Sunday of Advent – Cycle A”

  1. beckyDecember 12, 2010 at 1:51 am

    I have learned the hard way that God really doesn’t need my help. I have learned that many times my two cents aren’t very helpful at all. See I use to be one of those people who said “if I were God,I’d” I have learned that God is in the lead, and I follow, but when I try to lead I get oh so lost! yes I learned that God guides my quite unknowingly where he can best use me. Sometimes it as simple as a smile to someone feeling very alone and invisible that has made a big difference.

  2. anneDecember 13, 2010 at 4:25 am

    They say patience is a virtue. I believe patience is a gift from God, that is always waiting for us just to recognize it is there. I many times must remove the log from my eye to see the small gift of giant possibilities before me.

  3. MichaelCarlosDecember 13, 2010 at 4:59 am

    “They will meet with joy and gladness,
    sorrow and mourning will flee.”

    That is the promise in the amazing passage from Isaiah about what will happen when our God comes to save us. But we know that God has already come in the person of Jesus to ransom us. So where is the joyfulness? The end of sorrow? Am I impatient to experience this? Absolutely. But Kathy’s reflection is a beautiful reminder that the coming about of real change happens in God’s time. Sometimes it is dramatic and sudden. But mostly it happens in the imperceptible accumulation of one decision at a time, one small effort after another to recognize grace or to be a source of grace for another. 

    The hope and courage and real love I see in THIS community is effecting a change in me, and I am so grateful for the prayers and encouragement I find here. I believe that our shared journey in this new liturgical year will be a source of that joy and gladness promised by the prophet. That I will see a change in my own heart as we reflect together on the saving Word of God and how it grows in us. That I will become more attentive to the ways I can bring about the Kingdom. I just need a bit of patience. 

  4. CrisDecember 13, 2010 at 4:13 pm

    Some people think I’m patient but ‘am average. ‘am patient perhaps 60% of the time and impatient about 40% of the time.
    But when I think of the Hebrew people who were in Babylon
    for close to 60 years of captivity, my patience comes to nothing compared to their faith. – – Cris

  5. leehemmingerDecember 13, 2010 at 5:31 pm

    being a person raised in a “faithless” home, it always astounds me to realize how many of my mom’s quotes were instrumental in forming me. We didn’t go to church or pray as a family, but I am filled with a multitude of “ism’s”, one being “patience is a virtue.” Growing up that was always one of the directions from mom that stuck with me, and I repeated to my own children. But, it just doesn’t come easily. Maybe that’s why it’s a virtue: we must work at it, opening ourselves up to God, surrendering to allow him to work through us. I always believed it would become easier in aging, but I still find myself wanting to hurry things along; get well quicker, change societal structure and the systems that control lives, bring an end to war. None of these things move fast enough for me, and it’s a constant source of frustration until I remember to let go and let God. Then, the frustration subsides for a time, until the next event that triggers impatience. Having always been an activist, my first instinct is to do something to right a wrong, take the initiative to speak out, offer ideas to promote the change that I think is needed. How arrogant is that? “God, I open myself to you and trust my humanity will not distance me from your love; that the change in me will come from your presence within; that my patience with all your creation and its flaws will become more visible in this life.” Cris has made the perfect connection with the Hebrews in Babylon: our patience can only come from our faith.

  6. brebis galeuseDecember 13, 2010 at 11:46 pm

    Becky, I think God does need your help, as He needs help from all of us. We are the hands God uses to accomplish change He wants in this world. He cannot accomplish change in this world without us, and we won’t be motivated to make any of those change without HIm. It is by our teamwork with God that the world is made a better place. We need to listen, be aware always of what He wants us to do on HIs behalf.

    Never shortchange who you are by thinking that God doesn’t need you . . . and me . . . and all who are open to HIs graces.

    Prepare ye the way!

  7. ChrisDecember 15, 2010 at 8:26 pm

    I think we need to be careful with the difference between “need” and “want”. God does not truly _need_ anything. As our all powerful, all knowing God, He can do anything. However, he does desprately _want_ us (because he loves us) to be the active part of his plan for all humanity.

    The Catechism states:
    “Of all the divine attributes, only God’s omnipotence is named in the Creed: to confess this power has great bearing on our lives. We believe that his might is universal, for God who created everything also rules everything and can do everything. God’s power is loving, for he is our Father, and mysterious, for only faith can discern it when it ‘is made perfect in weakness.'”

    I agree with brebis’ comment “We need to listen, be aware always of what He wants us to do on HIs behalf.”

  8. adminkDecember 16, 2010 at 4:02 pm

    Hi everyone, it’s Kathy here. I keep coming back to the site this week because your contributions are so, so rich.

    I love Michael Carlos’ sentence here: But mostly (patience) happens in the imperceptible accumulation of one decision at a time, one small effort after another to recognize grace or to be a source of grace for another.

    How beautiful. I’m struck recently with the changes in our spirits which happen little by little, year by year, as we make the decisions to “recognize grace and be a source of grace for another.”

    I had an interesting experience two days ago. My nice doctor, responding to me PLEAS for a sleep aid that works for my epic insomnia, wrote me a prescription six months ago for Trazadone. When he handed me the prescription he said, “You’ve been through a lot. You deserve to have this.” I didn’t think much about that at the time.

    Fast forward to two days ago. I woke up after a nice long sleep, and I was THRILLED to realize that I had actually slept the whole night without taking the sleep aid. I had been too tired the night before to open the bottle (I know) and had fallen asleep and stayed asleep the whole night. Wow! I’m going to try it again tonight and see if I have solved my sleep problems and can get off of altogether!!

    Within a few hours I was droopy. It was seventy degrees out, Ben was home, we went for a gorgeous nine-mile bike ride. The combination of those three “graces” would normally put me over the edge with ecstasy, but by the time we got home I was teary and blue and just kind of “flu-y”.

    I went to bed at 7pm, exhausted and sad for no reason I could imagine. I took my Trazadone, and woke up yesterday feeling WONDERFUL! My cheerful spirit was totally revived, the blues of the day before had disappeared, and I had no trace of the flue symptoms of the day before.

    Hmmm….what could have caused such a dramatic difference???
    That’s right. My pharmacist-husband now confesses to me what my doctor meant when he said, “You deserve this.” Unbeknownst to me all these months of blissful sleeping (and living)later, Trazadone is a mild anti-depressant! And going one night without it had brought on the blues, tiredness and flu.

    And it had worked up in my system little by little, day by day, without my noticing that it was giving me a little boost. (I thought that finally getting great sleep every night was the sole reason why I feel so great.) But take it away for just one night, and yuck!

    So I naturally thought of that farmer who watches the soil during the early and the spring rains, and one day the shoot just begins to rise. Little by little, things change us.

    It doesn’t make me feel too comfortable, knowing that if I ever feel that I can sleep on my own I will have to painfully wean myself off Trazadone. But it does give me tremendous compassion for those who struggle with depression, and now that I’ve had one day of it I have a teeny sense of what so many great people struggle with every day.

    So I “recognize grace”—the grace of medicine that created a drug that has restored my sanity after years of insomnia, and the grace to recognize that I have been given a small glimpse of the challenges that so many brave people face every day. i resolve to be much more present and loving and understanding, and will stand in watchful hope with all the people I love who struggle with depression.

    Isn’t Advent wonderful?

    Blessings—Kathy

  9. BobbieDecember 22, 2010 at 5:26 am

    How can you help God help you make a real change?
    A new friend by the name of Lindsay said, “That’s easy. Even God can’t drive a parked car.” Hmmm…
    As I thought about the image, I recognized that road signs suggest good ways to cooperate with God. It’s important to yield to the God who loves me. Surrendering is not always easy but I have to trust that the God who created me sustains me, nourishes me and embraces me. And when it comes to other people in my life, sometimes they may have the right of way.
    Stop signs are red so that they stand out. They remind me to pause a while, to be still and present in the moment. It’s about looking both ways and all around, and accepting more than just my own opinion. This teaches me to not live with an “either/or” but a “both/and” attitude, to be less judgmental and more inclusive. I tend to run around too fast with too many different things to do, so stopping to breathe in the power of the Holy Spirit is essential to my hearing what God has to say to me. I can get caught up in my own self-importance so “just wait a minute” is a brief refresher course in humility. Not only have I had to pause, but I’ve also had to sit at a red light and wait for the light to change to green. And in those amber moments I wonder what God is cautioning me about and what transformative power is occurring.
    I try not to drive above the speed limit, but even I lose patience and accelerate to pass the person in front of me, who might be going too slowly for my taste. I’m probably in a hurry to accomplish something. I learn how to pray for that person’s concerns, even if it’s just a quick prayer from someone who’s driving in the fast lane.
    For a while it seemed as if there were a lot of curves in my life, with uneven pavements. It’s made for some rough miles. But when I reflect on what’s happening, I realize that I am under construction. Both God and other human beings are working on me. Knowing who I am, it can take a long time.
    Here in Fort Collins, the train runs right through the middle of the city. Those railroad crossings ring a bell. Some thing bigger than I am is passing through, and if I’m not patient, I will miss the significance of the moment and of the One who is inviting me to notice. Most of the time, there are plenty of cars sitting and waiting, it’s an exercise in community building, possibility and hope (that the train really isn’t too long.)
    God and I are one, so I merge into the heart of God, even as we are unique. This God directs me and leads me to make only right turns. Sometimes, I still go the other way, because I stubbornly choose the opposite direction. Thankfully there aren’t any signs posted that say no U-turns.
    For me, there is only one way to God, and that’s being in relationship with the Holy One, who regularly fills me with premium grace. I “check my soul” through reflection on Scripture and examination of consciousness. And then, when I really am cooperating with the Spirit, I allow God to take the driver’s seat.

  10. leehemmingerDecember 23, 2010 at 5:10 pm

    As I have meditated on this week’s reflection by Kathy, I am aware of the many ways in which scripture teaches us compassion, acceptance, forgiveness and love. Joseph might not have been expected to protect Mary and Jesus considering the laws of his time. But, the Holy Spirit gave him the support he needed to do the loving thing. Jerome and others may have changed a word here and there to support their position, but the basic message always seems to come through.
    My sister and brother-in-law have been trying to sell their house in Minnesota so they could move back to Denver for five years. Poor Joseph remains on his head in the frozen tundra and the house is now off the market!

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Second Sunday of Advent – Cycle A

4 December 2010
Comments (7)

Reflecting on Isaiah 11:1-10

Ah, the peaceable kingdom.  How we long for the day when the wolf shall be guest of the lamb, and the calf and the young lion browse together.  But how on earth (and in heaven) do we build it?

Peaceable Kingdom, painting Edward Hicks

I recently came across a letter from my childhood friend Gloria, written on the occasion of my mother’s death.  I’ve saved it all these years because I need to take in the comfort that her words still give me:  Kathy, you loved your mom so well. Don’t make yourself sick in the years to come agonizing that you didn’t do enough. I stand as a witness to your life, and I’m telling you that you loved her well.

And then the peace comes.  And flowing from that peace comes the grace to send similar letters to people I know who may need an extra infusion of love today.  Is there anybody in my life I can let off the hook?  Is there anyone to whom I can say, “That little thing?  Are you kidding?? Don’t even worry about it!  I totally forgot about it a million years ago.”

Is there a friend or relative whose entire DNA is completely foreign to you, whose behavior is consistently grating, whose past offenses haven’t been nearly as itemized and publicized as they should be?  Tap into the grace that is always there―the kingdom of God is within you―and see them as God does, who has been the constant witness to their life and wants to heal them today, through you.

There is no peace until we are each at peace, and it begins now.  Find someone to be extra gracious to today.  And then stand back and watch the kingdom break forth.

Sharing God’s Word at Home:

Have you ever seen someone differently when you look through God’s eyes?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

7 Comments to “Second Sunday of Advent – Cycle A”

  1. mikeandbetsyDecember 5, 2010 at 8:48 pm

    I try to stop and think of certain persons differently, drop the irritation or resentment, the lack of forgiveness…and make the effort to understand, to be kinder, to confess my selfishnes. But to see a person through God’s eyes… that seems to only come in a moment sometimes, from grace. It seems like a huge gift. The Holy Spirit visits in graced moments. I’ll see and feel so differently about a person than usual, that I’m sure it’s the Spirit, helping me with my selfishness.
    But Kathy’s message lets me know that maybe I can do more than I think I am able to do for the people around me, on every ordinary day. Instead of thinking it is me who needs to do the work to be kinder and less selfish, until the Holy Spirit visits me in flashes, I realize that God constantly wants to heal and love the people through me. God is continually present to us; opening our hearts is easier than we, as humans, make it. And it’s fun to think how abundantly I can bless those people whom I am in the habit of subtly rejecting because of remembering and focusing on how they have hurt me. I need to stop thinking of seeing people with love as an extraordinary thing, but as an ordinary thing.
    God, help this to be a real Advent for me, for those whom You want me to love, and for all of us. I want to prepare the way for You!

  2. BobbieDecember 6, 2010 at 1:48 am

    A long time ago I was part of a parish where the pastor had some qualities that I found hard to take. It felt like we were always at loggerheads and I would allow the nonsense of our encounters to make me feel angry, “less than,” irritated, argumentative. Everything seemed to lead in this direction when it came to him. During Lent I decided that my Lenten practice would be to pray for him every day. He didn’t change, but in God’s mercy, I did. Instead of all those feelings that ate at me, I found compassion, kindness, and God’s love surrounding him. It was a different way to see and I am so grateful for what the experience taught me. I, too, can be arrogant, unkind, irritating, all those characteristics that I had assigned to him. More importantly, I can heal in the love of God overshadowing all of us.

  3. beckyDecember 6, 2010 at 7:53 pm

    Kathy,Kathy, Kathy, Oh my dear friend you know so much about me, and the words of comfort you offer me are so meaningful. I think I’m somewhat of a split personality, sometimes I can be so underdtanding and say the right things, and there are those times when everthing that comes out of my mouth just never come out right. It’s easier to remember the times I failed to say or do the compassionate thing, because each time I’ve hurt someone I have had such a deep regretful feeling in m heart. I’ve learned that some people have the gift to practice tough love, I’m not that person. it just come off mean and nonproductive. My gift “I believe” is listening, and just sitting near by with tissues and an open ear followed up with a soft hug. Once when a very dear friend did the most unselfish thing a mother could do, she knew she was unable to take care of her 1 and 2 year old as children need to be. she gave them up for adoption. That night we sat all night at Wenchel and drank coffee, while she poured her heart out and cried I was mute and just listened.

  4. Steve GivensDecember 6, 2010 at 8:51 pm

    So very, very needed. Thanks for the reminder…

    Steve

  5. CrisDecember 7, 2010 at 2:29 am

    I think I have a little bit of Becky in me in that I come equipped with a listening ear and a handkerchief since I am not in the habit of carrying a box of tissues.
    A few years ago, I forgave someone offensive not because of my personal encounter with him but because I listened to the person he has offended. Forgiveness is contagious. – – Cris

  6. ChrisDecember 7, 2010 at 2:45 am

    As appropriate as ever, this poem helps me keep perspective.

    God, open my eyes so I may see
    And feel Your presence close to me…
    Give me strength for my stumbling feet
    As I battle the crowd on life’s busy street,
    And widen the vision of my unseeing eyes
    So in passing faces I’ll recognize
    Not just a stranger, unloved and unknown,
    But a friend with a heart that is much like my own….
    Give me perception to make me aware
    That scattered profusely on life’s thoroughfare
    Are the best gifts of God that we daily pass by
    As we look at the world with an unseeing eye.

    by Helen Steiner Rice

  7. brebis galeuseDecember 9, 2010 at 1:20 pm

    Seeing others through the eyes of God is impossible for me. I am too burdened by my human sight and perspective. I am too judgmental of those around me and not judgmental enough when looking inward. Please pray for me.

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First Sunday of Advent – Cycle A

27 November 2010
Comments (6)

Reflecting on Romans 13:11-14

I once had an intense experience of darkness on a freezing Colorado night at the Trappist monastery in Snowmass, Colorado.  Retreatans are invited to walk the mile from the retreat house to the chapel for Vigils at 4:30 am.  In that entire, moonless valley, the single light was a humble bulb over the chapel door.  For those who didn’t stray from the path it must have seemed an easy journey towards the light.  But for me― lost, cold, uneasy in the dark mountains―the absence of a light to guide me seemed thoughtless and almost hostile.

I’ve never forgotten that feeling of abandonment and cold.  There were no stars, and no bright moon to illuminate the path.  My feet were numb, and I had lent my gloves to a person I had only met an hour ago.  I walked several miles alone in that valley, lost, searching the sky for the first violet of dawn.

And it came, of course.  Morning stars pulled the violets and rose from the sky.  The night had advanced, the day was at hand.  And as the morning light awakened the valley I could see it finally―that tiny light just off to my left, the light that had been there all the time, beckoning me to the warmth of the chapel.

I think about that light this Advent, and I wonder how many silent souls are out there in the cold, searching for us, but unable to find us because our light is too dim, too distant, too familiar to those who know the way and too far away for those who are lost.

Sharing God’s Word at Home:

How brightly does your light shine in the darkness?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

6 Comments to “First Sunday of Advent – Cycle A”

  1. brebis galeuseNovember 28, 2010 at 2:59 pm

    As Father read the Gospel at Mass, I focused more on the Boy Scout motto, “Be prepared,” which is closely connected with making sure my light shines brightly in the darkness. If I keep a priority of being prepared, because Jesus could return in a second, I will enlighten those around me — by my life of preparing in prayer and actions to be ready for that second coming any second. I don’t know how good a job I am doing of that . . . but I trust that God will show me the way by His Light! Then, all I have to do is pay attention and act accordingly. Pray for me.

  2. beckyNovember 29, 2010 at 4:02 am

    The times that I have walked in the dark my mind went into overdrive, every sound in the weeds and every barking dog would unnerve me. but that was a physical darkness, the darkness I walked in that should have shaken me to the core didn’t”until” I was out of it and back in the light of God. When I came out of my first confession, this side of that long dark night of the soul, suddenly things were no long shades of grey, truth wasn’t subjective. right was right and wrong was wrong. I had to look at the playgrounds and playmates in my life and decide what God was wanting of me. It’s not been easy, in fact it’s been hard to discern my thoughts, words and deeds on a Christian level. I think the light that God wants me to be is the light of a loving convert to my friends, who think that Christians are mean, angry judgmental people that no one wants to be. I remember and feel the things that pushed me away from the Faith, and I know that only by owning my actions and then trusting in the forgivingness of God is there true happiness. Being a happy Christian draws people to the light of God It’s not my light but God’s light that draws people to conversion. I’m just one little smiley face night light that God called on.

  3. brebis galeuseNovember 29, 2010 at 6:29 pm

    Thanks, Becky, that is a great reflection! I believe you’re exactly right. Piety isn’t a stern or even solemn facial expression or any of the physical gestures. It truly is in showing people that being Christian is a joyful life. You made my day!

  4. CrisDecember 1, 2010 at 2:59 pm

    I like Becky’s smiley face night light…I believe that sonmetimes in my impatience, I try to shine a glaring light which might be too much for some people..there’s light and there’s light AND there is LIGHT. – – Cris

  5. BobbieDecember 6, 2010 at 2:23 am

    How brightly does your light shine in the darkness?
    Because of having been unemployed for six months without unemployment benefits, I’ve started working as a temp in a position that does not use my skills and talents. Instead, it is a constant challenge to understand how things flow, to pick up speed, to be accurate, etc. Things I could have done easily if I didn’t feel such desperation to work, to succeed. As a matter of fact, this has become a “lesson in humility.”
    I work with people who are more than half my age and have grown up with computers as second nature to them. I have to admire their patience as they help me over and over to “get it.” This feels like another kind of darkness and I certainly don’t “shine” when it comes to the work that I do. I feel like I just about get by.
    But this is what my friend St. Jude brought me to when I finally began to pray to him, asking for a position that would allow me to use my gifts and talents for the honor and glory of God and to make a decent living. Every day I ask God to accept what I do in his honor, because I don’t see how I’m being used in the best possible way.
    Doing ministry, spiritual direction and retreats is what I love doing and what I’m good at. As I type this, people from work are coming to mind who have told me about their spirituality without my asking, who have said that what I did made their day, who trust me with their story over lunch. Perhaps this is where I shine…in asking questions that help people know more deeply who they are. I listen with compassion and notice the little changes that take place in them.

  6. MichaelCarlosDecember 13, 2010 at 5:10 am

    Bobbie, what a beautiful gift you share by being an attentive listener and knowing how to ask the questions that deepen another’s journey to growth and self-awareness. I will be praying that you find work where your talents and vocation can find full expression, but it looks like you already have recognized that you can make a big impact right where you are. So glad to see you joining the conversation again!

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Feast of Christ the King – Ordinary Time Cycle C

20 November 2010
Comments (11)

Reflecting on Luke 23:35-43

We should have seen it coming from the beginning.  One year ago we rotated into Luke’s Gospel, and if we’d paid attention we would have noticed it then, right there in the second chapter.  But we were distracted by the glorious account of the angel Gabriel’s announcement to Mary, and those shepherds running up to Bethlehem to see the things that had come to pass.

Jesus, remember me

We should have seen it coming, this horrible, terrifying death on a hill.  The day he came into Jerusalem on a colt, with his followers singing hosannas, should have jolted our memories.  Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven! They were singing just what the angels sang on the night of his birth!  Something destined from before all things was now unfolding before our eyes.

The King of Kings lies nailed to a cross.  He struggles, he cries, he writhes in agony.  And now we remember the prophet Simeon as he held the baby Jesus in the Temple: And Mary, a sword will pierce your heart too. Ah. We knew this was coming all along.

But now, grace enters into the heart of one crucified next to him.  The torture of the cross opens up a place that has grown hard in his heart.  In his last moments he recognizes the image of the invisible God, Christ himself, who came into the world to deliver us from darkness.  Jesus! he moans.  Remember me when you come into your kingdom!

The crucified King promises paradise to him this very day. And we who, at this distance of two thousand years, know the end of the story, wait in joyful hope at the empty tomb.

Sharing God’s Word at Home:

At what times of your life have you begged Jesus to remember you?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

11 Comments to “Feast of Christ the King – Ordinary Time Cycle C”

  1. brebis galeuseNovember 20, 2010 at 7:16 pm

    At no time in my life have I asked Jesus to remember me, because it has never occurred to me that he could forget me. I remember my friends, and I expect that Jesus remembers his, too. The prophet Isaiah tells us that God will never forget us — even if a mother could forget the child within her womb, God will never forget any one of us. We need to have the confidence that this is true.

  2. brebis galeuseNovember 22, 2010 at 5:08 pm

    I hope I didn’t squelch a discussion with my comment . . . I am hoping that everyone is just busy with Thanksgiving preparations.

  3. beckyNovember 22, 2010 at 8:56 pm

    No Brebis your answer great and Kathy’s reflection and question were strong and excellent too. Some like myself may be thinking how these reading made us feel. Or angain like myself theit computer wants to drive them nuts!
    I am like Brebis, it has never dawned on me that Jesus could forget me. I know that in times of stress, I ask Him ” why?” We are unlike Jesus in that we become targets on mean spirited people and don’t know why. Sometime we forget, that the human feeling of abandoment is human to human or human to God but never God to creation. I have suffer the sin of this human abandoment of God, and I was beyond lonely, the whole world could not fill me up until I went back to my Lord and God.

  4. beckyNovember 22, 2010 at 9:44 pm

    oop! On reviewing my entery, I see I wasn’t clear. Jesus was indeed the target of mean and wicked spirited people, and He knew the truth in their hearts. He knew why, the prophets had told of all His suffering for our salvation. When we are abandoned we usually don’t know why.

  5. CrisNovember 24, 2010 at 12:56 am

    Brevis is right. There is no way Jesus could forget us. And yet behind every prayer is that implicit human assumption about God’s “forgetfulness”. We pray for this or that blessing, or for this or that petition, etc. – – the implication being God may be “forgetting” to accomplish “x” or “y” Are we beginning to scratch the surface of the mystery of prayer and God’s magnanimity? – – – Cris

  6. mamidecincoNovember 24, 2010 at 2:55 am

    When I read the words of the criminal’s prayer, I take it as more a reflection on him than of a reflection of Christ or Christ’s ability. I think it is the man’s DESIRE to be remembered that makes this prayer powerful to me. As you all have stated, God does not forget any of us.

    I guess for me, Kathy’s question would then mean, at what times in your life have you ever desired so greatly to be remembered by Jesus that you cried out for it.

    When I think of the question with this slant, it seems that there have been many times in my life where I beg Jesus to remember me. Most of those times are when I’m feeling desperately alone, shaken either physically or mentally and most definitely spiritually. And I am always amazed at the effects of that simple prayer…Jesus remember me. And I think it’s because of Jesus’ response to the criminal…the promise of paradise that very day. Jesus not only remembers me (even before I pray the prayer) but in the praying, I’m reminded of Jesus’ promise to the criminal and to me.

    ~Kim~

  7. ChrisNovember 24, 2010 at 5:56 am

    I agree with mamidecinco. We might well ask, “Why do I ever need to ask God for anything when He knows everything?”
    The thing of it is, God asks us to come to Him. He wants us to make the choice (free will) to reach out to him. Read Luke 11, 5-13, when Jesus talks about persistance. Part of it also reads,

    “And I tell you, ask and you will receive;
    seek and you will find;
    knock and the door will be opened to you.
    For everyone who asks, receives;
    and the one who seeks, finds;
    and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.”

    And lest we forget the story of the widow and the dishonest judge? Again, persistance in asking.

    God knows what we need, but we have to ask Him for it.

  8. DonnaNovember 24, 2010 at 6:42 pm

    Recalling also the Scripture, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock” in Rev.3:15
    Jesus is there waiting for us to open the door & invite him into our hearts.
    The times in my life with the most heartbreak and anguish, I have asked Jesus to remember me.
    Donna

  9. eileenNovember 25, 2010 at 6:00 pm

    In answer to your question about when I have asked Jesus to remember me, I can say this past year has been it. I have said, Remember me? I am the one that has left you. At other times it’s been, Remember me cause I have a hard time staying so close. But most often it has been, Re-member me into the wholeness that is you.

    Thank you to all and especially Kathy on this Thanksgiving Day.

  10. BobbieNovember 25, 2010 at 11:44 pm

    I don’t usually beg Jesus to remember me, though the Taize chant, “Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom,” is a powerful, haunting song for me. I become that person on the cross dying next to Jesus. From the depths of my being, from a space of conversion and a desire to be reconciled, I sing this song. And like that good thief, I hear, “This day, this day….” I expect the miracle of transformation to happen in my life, this day. My faith sees it in kairos not necessarily chronos.
    On the other hand, there are times that I have cried out, “God, have you forgotten me?” or “God, have you forgotten us?” It’s been in the dark night experience when I wonder where God is, when I wonder if God notices me. Perhaps in that lament of “being forgotten” my real cry is “remember me, remember that I am on this planet, remember that I am suffering.” When I ask that useless why question, I’m whining about being forgotten.
    Each time I bewail another natural catastrophe that strikes in the poorest of regions, I watch the world shudder and then reach out. “This is your world,” I moan. God must hear my howling. It’s when we reach out to each other that I know God sees and asks us to use our gifts to the fullest. That’s when I know that God is “re-membering,” putting us back together again.

  11. leehemmingerNovember 26, 2010 at 8:06 pm

    I can’t count the times I’ve cried out to have Jesus remember me. Life brings sorrow, difficulty, illness that can wear down the human spirit, make us feel weak and in need of a stronger anchor. Jesus is that anchor for me; while he is wholly divine, he was also wholly human and I cry out for him to understand my humanity, my weaknesses, and to provide the strength needed for the current moment. God does know my needs, but I guess I’ve always doubted he is a micro-manager, checking in each minute to steer the ship. To ask, seek and knock have served me well, since our time just doesn’t measure in God’s time, and sometimes as I wait I’m not sure he heard the first request, so I have to keep going back and asking for the patience, strength and perseverance to continue the wait. Or, the wisdom to know the answer is already present, just not the one I was hoping for. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

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Thirty-third Sunday – Ordinary Time Cycle C

13 November 2010
Comments (6)

Reflecting on Luke 21: 5-19

My friend Joanie was the first of my friends to have a baby, way back in the early 1970s.  I still remember how shocked I was that she was ignoring all the signs of the times―the recent famine in Biafra, the war in Vietnam, the oil embargo, the Palestinian terror attack at the Munich Olympics, the eruption of Mt. Etna.

In every age, bring life forward

How could she possibly think about having a family when Jesus’ prophecy about the last days was clearly being acted out on the world stage?  Wars, famines, terrorism, volcanos.  Surely things could never get worse.  Also, hadn’t she read the very same reading assignments I had at school?  The world would run out of clean water and air by the time we were in our forties.

But as the years went by, something even more shocking happened.  All of my friends started having families!  I was stunned at their hopefulness, their faith-driven optimism that God is the God of the living, and their vocation was to bring life forward.

And that’s what finally compelled me to learn how to read Scripture.  Of course.  Luke’s Gospel today is timeless, and Jesus was absolutely right.  In every age there will be all those dreadful things.  And in every age, Jesus is Lord of all who hope in him.

Sharing God’s Word at Home:

In what ways do you experience a tension between faith and fear?


What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

6 Comments to “Thirty-third Sunday – Ordinary Time Cycle C”

  1. beckyNovember 13, 2010 at 9:26 pm

    Making choices has never been easy for me, I dread the thought of making the wrong one and the impact that a wrong one will have on those I love, myself and the world. That was one way I dropped away from the Faith, I was so afraid that I start going to physics. Wow what a dreadful mistake that was. It opened the door to so many other things that tore at my belief in God.Until that wonderful voice of God said “Faith”! He asked me why I had faith in strange teachings and not in His love for me? The fact is in this life we will suffer some more then others. and there are great troubled wars and illnesses and abusiveness And through it all we can find one constant comfort “HE, THE FATHER AND Maker OF ALL THAT IS SEEN AND UNSEEN” will work the greatest miracles in the roughest of times. It’s okay to live life and enjoy it and He really doesn’t mind when we make complete and seemingly hopeless mistake. Because He is God and He has got it all under control. Becky

  2. MichaelCarlosNovember 14, 2010 at 2:18 am

    Someone close to me was at an event last month for a family friend who is celebrating 25 years in religious life. One of the priests asked her if she goes to church, and she replied that she had walked out during a homily a couple years ago and never returned because she doesn’t want her children to be taught certain prejudices and an unthinking, legalistic morality. She was making a stand for the belief that our Catholic faith insists it is God who will judge, that each of us are called to make grown-up judgments based on an informed conscience, and that any who love God and who try to live in accordance with the values of the gospel are welcome at the table. But that brave stand has cost her inclusion in the very life of the Church. 

    And in a real way, she did it partly for my sake.  

    This is the nexus where my faith and fear meet. What if someone (me) is hesitant to approach the table unless an integral part of the self is hidden or silenced, even if conscience says I am justified? What does that say, if anything, about the gospel or the Church (or about my understanding of either)? How does a particular parish or minister mediate the all-encompassing love of the Trinity balanced against the call to daily holiness? And is it even fair to expect that they should? Add to all of this a deep and expansive love of the scriptures and of the church’s liturgy, a lived experience of the kind of parish community that can only have been instituted by the Spirit, and an irrevocable affirmation that I am Catholic to the core of my being. I guess what I’m really asking is whether I can have faith and a church. And if not, which is more important to me? I am still praying for an answer to that question, but I want to believe Kathy’s beautiful, inspired reflection: Jesus is Lord of all who hope in him. And still I will hope in him; I will hope in him who saves me.             

  3. CrisNovember 15, 2010 at 3:07 pm

    Thanks Michael Carlos for making me reflect and pray.
    Kathy’s hope set me on the right path. Personally between faith and church, I lean more on faith because the church (in the sense of institution, hierarchy, judicial governance, etc.) can walk away from the Gospel. Example: Maciel who founded the Legionnaires of Christ proven to be corrupt and guilty of sexual abuse. What about church as the people? – – that would be another issue. Many times in my life, the resolution of an issue comes not with the mathematical evaluation of the pros and cons side of the debate – – with the bottom line crystal clearly indicating the conclusion. Many times, the process is spiritually intuitive, through the whisper of the Spirit. – – Cris

  4. DonnaNovember 15, 2010 at 5:28 pm

    “Jesus is the Lord of all who hope in him” I believe this with all my heart.
    I also have to say that I would have to lean on my faith, as Cris stated above.
    I attended the Bible Conference this summer and heard a great talk by Thomas Smith on “The God who bends to bless us” reflecting on the Gospel of John. Jesus, who loves us beyond comprehension, bends to bless. Using the story of the woman caught in adultry, Jesus bending to write in the sand. Jesus, bending to wash the feet of his disciples, (even the feet of Judas). Jesus, bending over to a charcoal fire to feed the Apostles after his resurrection. I mention this because I believe Jesus would not want us to exclude anyone from his table. He bends to heal, reconcile & restore. Michael Carlos, God Bless you, you always inspire me!
    Jesus, you are the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords and … “the Lord of all who home in him”

  5. brebis galeuseNovember 18, 2010 at 3:25 pm

    If you have faith, there is nothing to fear.

  6. BobbieNovember 22, 2010 at 5:29 am

    In some ways faith and fear seem like polar opposites. I keep asking myself, “Is it possible that I can feel both at the same time?” But I do sometimes. There’s a war going on inside me when I don’t want to surrender to the God who reaches out to me and says, “Come….Fall into my waiting arms. I will catch you. Have no fear. “ Sigh….And I’m afraid, even terrified.
    For me, faith is not just believing a list of creedal doctrines. Fear seems like the opposite of faith, even though one might think doubt is. Doubts can sometimes surface; questions can linger; and it’s okay. Perhaps it’s because faith is about the relationship God has with me and my response to this God who longs for me. It’s because I know God who is so patient with me that I can have faith. When I am aware of this relationship, my fear dissipates.
    When I was a child, I believed what I learned in Catholic school and at Mass. I believed what my parents and family accepted as true. But then at some point, believing the catechism answers that I had in my head or what was “beyond reason” wasn’t enough. “Who are you, God? Reveal yourself to me,” became my prayer. And when it did, God gave me glimpses of a God that we don’t always talk about. This is not a God I can put into a little box and think I know or understand. Instead, this God is wild, untamable, uncontrollable, unconquerable, unlimited, dangerous. It’s not easy knowing this God because then I have to really let go and tread where I don’t want to walk or serve. Then I’m afraid because I have to release the imaginary security I hang on to for dear life. I have to reach out and clasp the hand of God who is there like a trapeze artist waiting to catch me. This is the God who transforms me and teaches me that I am loved and cherished, not because of what I do but because God is God the Lover and God the Cherisher. Is this not scary? Is it not too much? Is it not beyond what the mind can contain? Ah, but it’s only when my soul says yes that I can be free of fear and rely on the One who is beyond my thoughts. And then I just know…. Perhaps not necessarily in my head, since I don’t always have clarity and expression for what I know, but deep in my soul where there is no room for fear.

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Thirty-second Sunday – Ordinary Time Cycle C

6 November 2010
Comments (8)

Reflecting on 2 Maccabees 7:1-2, 9-14

When I was a young Catholic growing up in the warm parish community of St. Vincent de Paul in Denver, our favorite recess activity was to take our Saints Books out on the playground and horrify each other with the stories of their martyrdoms.  I think of that today as we hear that terrifying account of the torture and execution of the seven pious brothers (and their mother) by Antiochus Epiphanes IV around 170 B.C.

I used to know a lot more about how the saints died than how they lived.  Their deaths were so dramatic that I forgot to notice the faith statements of their lives.

Lately I’ve been thinking about Canada’s first canonized saint, André Bessette.  What a disappointing story.  He wasn’t devoured by Roman lions or skinned alive by Syrian emperors.  For forty years he just held the door open for people coming into Notre Dame College in Quebec.   And after his totally unremarkable death over one million people filed by his casket, weeping for this simple Holy Cross brother who lived his ordinary life with extraordinary love.

I guess that’s who  all the saints are: door openers.  Something about their lives, and sometimes their deaths, opens a door for us so we can see Jesus more clearly.  And on the day of our own deaths Jesus himself will open the door for us, for as today’s Gospel tells us, “he is not God of the dead, but of the living, for to him all are alive.”

Sharing God’s Word at Home:

What saint, living or dead, opens the door for you to see Jesus?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

8 Comments to “Thirty-second Sunday – Ordinary Time Cycle C”

  1. ChrisNovember 6, 2010 at 10:01 pm

    For me it’s St. Francis of Assisi. No matter how often I think of his words, “Preach the Gospel at all times, if necessary use words.”, I am taken aback by both the simplicity and transformational aspects of the teaching. We can reach anyone far more completely and sincerely just by who we are and how we act than what we say. HOWEVER, the catch is, that we must act as Jesus expects us “at all times”.

  2. DonnaNovember 6, 2010 at 11:34 pm

    Oh, I laughed when I read Kathy’s rememberance of reading the Lives of the Saints in school, because we did the same thing @ St. Joseph grade school in Pueblo “my saint was beheaded” and we would wait to hear the gasps.
    One of my favorites is St. Monica, who loved her wayward son so much and prayed for his conversion for 22 years! Who would of thought he would become St. Agustine, one of the great saints and doctors of the Church? I think of her love and perseverance and I pray for her intercession for all mothers, especially those who feel their children are lost.
    I love St.Juan Diego also, who brings hope to all the poor and indigenous peoples of the world!

  3. beckyNovember 7, 2010 at 10:39 pm

    The Saints have always somewhat baffled me. I
    I know it was their faith in our Lord that made them “Saints” But those stories use to make me uncomfortable to say the least. If we did some of things that many of them did, I’m sure the men in white coats and with butterfly nets would come after us. I use to think that there was something important that I was missing in their stories. And of course there was, they love Him more then anything on this earth, more then family and friends, more then food or comforts. I only pray that if the time ever comes I could be as strong as our future Saints that are coming out of Iraq and the areas of the Middle East. God Bless these priest that against all odds still answer the Call. So they are my modern day heros of faith and then of course my Saint is Mary Our Lady who so bravely stood by Jesus as his Passion unfolded. I have to lean on her strength so often when loved one have suffers some long horrible illness. As for me, I’m a wimp I just got pass a bad cold or flue and belly ached my way through the whole two weeks. I just can not imagine the pain that many of our Catholic heros have endured for the love of God! Becky

  4. adminkNovember 8, 2010 at 9:08 pm

    Hi dear friends,

    Thanks so much for your AMAZING prayers for Mary Ellen Johnson, who has been diagnosed with Stage Three ovarian cancer. She has been amazingly strong and upbeat since you all started praying for her two weeks ago. May I ask you to please also pray for Wyona “Penny” Schablitsky, a member of our large readership who is suffering from both liver and pancreatic cancer? She is down to 88 pounds and is in great need of the powerful prayer of this community.

    Thanks for the wonderful, wonderful contributions.

    Kathy

  5. brebis galeuseNovember 9, 2010 at 3:59 pm

    When I was a brand new Catholic, at the beginning of my conversion process — which continues today and will until I am no longer in this earthly body — I chose Joan of Arc as my Confirmation saint. I was obviously influenced by the Holy Spirit in this choice, as the role I’ve been given in the Church is to defend Her, especially in the mass media. In my dealings, I have adopted Joan’s motto, “I am not afraid. I was born to do this.”

    What a relief to know that I can confront the powers without being confrontational. Wow! In addition to showing us Jesus, the saints show us how to stand up for Jesus.

  6. BobbieNovember 11, 2010 at 6:12 am

    Through the eyes of a child, my Babci, (Polish word for grandmother) was a saint. She came to live with us when I was about 4. I can still see her sitting on a rocking chair in her room facing a picture of the Madonna and Child. Her hands were always in the pocket of the cobbler apron that she wore, her fingers moving along the beads as she prayed the rosary. It seemed she was always praying. She had come from Poland and lived a poor life here during the Depression. Babci had given birth to 13 children; not all of them survived. I remember her being very quiet, but kind and gentle. There was something about her that I wanted to emulate. I think it was the serenity that poured out of her.
    Her son was my father. He also lived a hard life, working several jobs in order to make ends meet. As a child, I watched him kneel to say his morning and night prayer, wherever there was some quiet in our small apartment. If we were in the living room, he would kneel in front of a kitchen chair. If we were in the kitchen, he would go into the living room or my parents’ bedroom, which was a room through which we passed to get from one end of the house to the other. There wasn’t much quiet in that space. When he and my mom moved in 1977 to a house they built close to the Jersey shore, he planted a huge vegetable garden. Every summer morning he would wake up at 5:00 a.m. to check out what was happening in the garden. There he spent hours. Later, he told me that he prayed in the garden in the midst of the tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbage and other veggies. I learned what I had missed all my life. He was a contemplative. I don’t really know that I missed it. I just didn’t know what it was. He died of a very painful cancer, suffering with humility and trust. Even in the midst of his pain, he was generously concerned about our welfare.
    My mother was a Martha busy kind of person, working hard, always making meals stretch to accommodate guests. She sacrificed in order to share. Mom seemed to enjoy the busyness of life. Every Tuesday she would go to help the crafters prepare for the annual parish craft fair. She loved to cook. I think it was her style of self-expression and a way to offer back to God the best of her talents. She crocheted so many afghans, always as gifts to share with those who wanted or needed what she had to offer. As an adult I lived with her for 14 years before she died. There I discovered her contemplative nature. I often came home from work to find her sitting in her recliner, her rosary wrapped around her fingers or her prayer book open to a favorite page. Other times she would be ripping out a line of crocheting. She had made a mistake during her nap dream. I watched her faith, different from mine, and learned what it means to be silent, to allow other people to choose, to accept what God gives, and to let go into God. She loved angels and I have no doubt that she is sitting in the midst of them, praising God.

  7. Gloria A. VarelaNovember 11, 2010 at 1:55 pm

    I like saints who are alive today, and living around us, and joyful, and laughing wholeheartedly, modeling Christ living in us and pouring out of us. For me the saint that opens the door for me to see Jesus is Lucille Dupuis. Lucille is the Foundress of Our Lady of Tenderness Poustinia, in Estes Park, CO. She offers a cabin for quiet reflective prayer, on bread and water, on top of a mountain. Her phone numer is 970-577-1383. I found that, yes, Jesus was truely the host, when I spent time at the poustinia cabin that Lucille makes available for those who seek Jesus in a deeper way.

  8. CrisNovember 11, 2010 at 3:59 pm

    I will pray for Penny Scheblistsky, my little way of opening a little door. – – – Cris

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Thirty-first Sunday – Ordinary Time Cycle C

30 October 2010
Comments (12)

Reflecting on Luke 19:1-10

Oh, Zaccheus.  We really get you.  Short in stature and huge of heart, you couldn’t hear or see through the crowd.  The Jesus whom you longed to know was here!  Right here in Jericho!  So you climbed straight up that sycamore in order to see him whom your heart already loved.  Your story inspires us still, and so we have the courage to pray:

From The Life of Jesus in Nazareth, 1908

Find us, Jesus, as we rise and pray our Morning Offering, as we care for children and parents, as we strap on our sneakers and go to the gym, as we give everything we have to our jobs and our families, as we make our examen before falling asleep.  Find us, Jesus, as we hear the baby cry and leave our warm beds, as we stand firm against the strong wills of our unformed teenagers, as we look at the same photo album a thousand times with our parents who suffer from Alzheimer’s.

Find us, Jesus, as we navigate the path back to peace after an argument, insight after a humbling experience, faith after a time of doubt.  Find us, Jesus, as we process together to receive you in the Eucharist, then to see you at every table throughout the week.

Find us today, Jesus.  See us in that sycamore.  Call us by our name.  Invite yourself to our house for dinner tonight.  Please, Jesus.   AMEN.

We are gifted with a question at the ground of our being. And even in the worst of times, we climb trees to find out what the answer might be.  (John Kavanaugh, S.J.)

My dear friends Mary Frances and Bill Jaster inspired this column.

Sharing God’s Word at Home:

In what ways do you seek Jesus?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

12 Comments to “Thirty-first Sunday – Ordinary Time Cycle C”

  1. Steve GivensNovember 1, 2010 at 5:05 pm

    Wow…exactly. We just want to see and be seen. Love the quote from Fr. Kavanaugh (a wonderful St. Louisan!)who spoke at my high school graduation 33 years go, when, of course, I wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to him! Youth is wasted on the young, as someone once said!

    Steve

  2. brebis galeuseNovember 1, 2010 at 5:42 pm

    I try to see Jesus in the people around me, and, boy, sometimes it’s difficult. I’m betting that they also have a tough time finding Jesus in me!

    I’ve tried thinking about my actions in a way that makes me more conscious. For example, would I get angry with another driver, if I knew that driver was Jesus? So, I try to remember that everyone is part of the body of Christ — when I am good at remembering that, I treat them with love and compassion.

  3. CrisNovember 1, 2010 at 9:40 pm

    I have fond memories of Mary Frances and Bill Jaster. They have been Christ to me. – – Cris

  4. eileenNovember 2, 2010 at 12:32 am

    Thank you Brebis for the great idea of seeing Jesus in other drivers. I will try that out this week.

  5. KarenNovember 2, 2010 at 4:23 am

    I love this story of Zaccheus, but not because of his longing for Jesus… I love how Jesus pursues Zaccheus, wanting to be part of his life and to share a meal in his home. Zaccheus, as a tax collector, was a despised member of society and yet Jesus pursued him. How reassuring to know that when we’re at our worst, in the midst of great sin and shame and suffering, Jesus will seek us out. “Find us Jesus…” What a lovely way to pray ~

  6. mikeandbetsyNovember 3, 2010 at 5:07 pm

    Jesus stopped under the tree and said, “Zaccheus, COME DOWN QUICKLY, for today, I MUST stay at your house.” In the sermon I heard on Sunday, the word “must” was emphasized. Jesus was compelled to call Zaccheus down, with the words from Wisdom in mind: “O Lord and lover of souls.”
    But I believe Zaccheus was likable, even without the description in Wisdom about God’s love: “But you spare all things because they are yours…” The short man who scrambled down when called and looked up into Jesus’ eyes can’t help but make me smile!
    I remember people who enriched my life, who were just irresistably likable, even though their faults were also evident. I was graced to know a lot of different people when I was younger, and had a chance to be working or studying in groups. Now life is more compartmentalized. I meet people at predictable times and in predictable places. That doesn’t tend to encourage the kind of out of the ordinary meetings of people like Zaccheus.
    The question was, “where do you seek Jesus?” It has to be in church, in scripture, and prayer time. But the column entries this week inspired me on being ready to find Jesus anywhere. And the prayer, Kathy, spoke so much of the sacredness of everyday life…of course Jesus can be found in so many places throughout a day. A prayer in the heart can be held all the time, instead of only at a “certain” time or place.
    Thanks everybody.

  7. eileenNovember 4, 2010 at 12:27 am

    Brebis
    I have an update for you. The Jesus I saw driving in front of me needs remedial driver’s ed! 🙂

  8. brebis galeuseNovember 4, 2010 at 1:03 pm

    Good laugh, Eileen! Maybe he was confounded by all the gadgets that weren’t on the donkeys in his day . . .

    I don’t always succeed in seeing Jesus in everyone around me, but when I am successful, it feels awfully good!

  9. BobbieNovember 4, 2010 at 9:12 pm

    Because of being “between jobs,” I find myself in places that I would not have been if I were employed. When I worked for the church, it was “easy” to recognize the person who walked through the door as another Christ. This was a part of my ministry. Now, with a different consciousness, I look at some of the people who are touching my life in a way that is colored by the “freedom of no strings attached.” They are Jesus ministering to me.
    There’s the ever so patient man at the Salvation Army, (from whom I’ve learned so much), who volunteers his time to equip people with computer skills. I see Jesus in his willingness to use his gifts to help people grow beyond themselves. Then there are the people who show up at the very same place where classes are held, so that they can have breakfast, lunch and a warm place to sit. They carry a lot with them; not only their belongings, but also the weight of this being “home.” In some ways they are itinerant preachers from whom I learn humility and solidarity. At the hospital where I volunteer, the sick and the wounded come in a steady stream. They wear masks to protect everyone else from their illness. In the health care workers who tend them with careful skill and hopeful words, I’ve come to know the Jesus who walked among the lepers, the people with contagious diseases. My volunteer position is to smile, greet people and give directions to where they want to go. The lame and the bleeding, the mothers with crying children, the people who tell me their most intimate situations, teach me to recognize the Jesus who took risks to share with us who He is. And then there are my friends who raise my morale when I receive another rejection after spending a lot of time on tailoring my resume and my application. They are the Christ who pray for me, send me a card, sit with me during a melt down, and remind me that God has something in store for me. If only I could recognize the plan and the Planner.
    So, I continue to seek Jesus in the people who unexpectedly come my way in the midst of these circumstances. I seek Him by being open to the everyday miracle that He offers me. I seek Him in God’s Story, in the way people share their lives with me, in the circumstances of my own life, no matter how difficult. I try to pay attention and live my life with intention, knowing that while I am seeking Jesus, He is definitely seeking me.
    Mike and Betsy, that work “must” throws a whole new light on things.

  10. DonnaNovember 5, 2010 at 3:12 am

    Sometimes we think we are in places by accident, not realizing that we are where we need to be right at this time in our lives. We are here to touch one another with the hands of Jesus.
    I believe Bobbie you are where you need to be this time in your life. You are finding Jesus in others and they in you!
    I pray you will find a job, and you have been so enriched by the people you’ve met and helped during this “between” time.
    Just when I thought I was going to “retire” and take a part-time job, I meet a young brain injured man, who has shown me Jesus everyday! He always has a smile on his face and volunteers at food banks twice a week. Does he know that he does more for me than I do for him?
    Jesus, call me down from that sycamore tree, you’re not done with me yet!

  11. ChrisNovember 5, 2010 at 4:58 am

    All beautiful thoughts and words. This poem by Hellen Steiner Rice always helps me get in the right state of mind.

    God, open my eyes so I may see
    And feel Your presence close to me…
    Give me strength for my stumbling feet
    As I battle the crowd on life’s busy street,
    And widen the vision of my unseeing eyes
    So in passing faces I’ll recognize
    Not just a stranger, unloved and unknown,
    But a friend with a heart that is much like my own….
    Give me perception to make me aware
    That scattered profusely on life’s thoroughfare
    Are the best gifts of God that we daily pass by
    As we look at the world with an unseeing eye.

  12. BobbieNovember 11, 2010 at 6:15 am

    Thanks, Donna. I collect words of encouragement the way I used to gather shells on the seashore. They are treasured in my heart and brought out on rainy days.

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Thirtieth Sunday – Ordinary Time Cycle C

23 October 2010
Comments (18)

Reflecting on 2 Tm 4:6-8, 16-18

It’s frustrating not to know more about the world of Jesus and St. Paul.  But there is a clue in the second reading today, an actual insider’s joke from St. Paul (or one of his disciples) to the church headed by Timothy in Ephesus.

Nero's Olympics

“I have competed well, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.  And from now on, the crown of righteousness awaits me.”  Hmm.  Why does he use the image of an athlete competing in a race, finishing it and wearing the crown?  Could it be that Paul, from his chains, is sending along a little joke about the crazy man on the throne, the dreaded Emperor Nero, the one who would be his executioner?  I think so.

By the time this letter was written the whole Roman Empire was laughing at Nero because, at the Olympics in the year 67, he actually bribed the judges to let him compete.  He entered himself in six races and, guess what, won every one of them (no competitors allowed). And when he fell off his chariot in the race against himself, he still won and got to wear the victor’s wreath and process around the stadium to thunderous applause-on-demand.

Thanks, St. Paul.  All these millennia later, we still get the message.  Unlike Nero, we’ll run the real race and we’ll finish it.  We’ll keep the faith.  And at the finish line, with our last breaths, we will reach for Him who has forgiven us.  And the heavens will rejoice that another set of sinners has been lifted onto the Winner’s Podium, to be crowned on high with eternal life in Christ Jesus.

Special thanks to my friend Thomas Smith for the background information given in this column.

Sharing God’s Word at Home:

How do you feel you are doing in “running the race” of faithfulness to your baptismal vows?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

18 Comments to “Thirtieth Sunday – Ordinary Time Cycle C”

  1. brebis galeuseOctober 23, 2010 at 12:43 pm

    Like Nero, I run this race all alone. Even when I plod, I still make some progress. When I fall, as long as I accept the grace to pick myself up again, I win and will get to wear the victor’s wreath. God is good.

  2. leehemmingerOctober 24, 2010 at 6:29 pm

    the word in this writing by Paul that has always stopped me cold is “rightousness”, simply because of my own interpretation of its meaning. Rightousness isn’t something I’ve had as a goal for my life, and have had to make a conscious effort to reduce its presence. The irony of today’s readings is that Luke’s Gospel suggests a different meaning for rightousness than explained in Paul’s writing. I hope that in the end, at the completion line, I will have competed well and kept the faith; but, I guess my own wish is that the crown will be one of forgiveness and mercy, rather than rightousness. Will I have been always faithful to my baptismal vows? Good question: what were those vows? If that was to love the Lord my God with my whole heart, mind and soul, and to love others as myself, I think God would say I’ve done that, even during the dark nights. We are called to holiness, community, mission and ministry, and my own belief is that each of these calls is accomplished by imitating Christ in our lives as much as humanly possible, while offering repentance for our failures. But, there are other things I’m not so sure of. Have I accepted everything handed down through tradition as Gospel truth? Or, some of the exclusionary laws established by man? Not so much. So, I place my soul in God’s hands and trust always in his/her love, grace and mercy.

  3. eileenOctober 25, 2010 at 2:43 am

    I was in 2nd grade and I was nervous standing in the crowd of unfamiliar faces at the annual skating meet for Catholic schools. I had practiced hard and was sure of a win. I saw the starting line in the big oval and took my place. The gun went off and my little legs were shushing. Shush, shush they went as I flew on the skates. But when I looked up everyone was a mile ahead of me. That’s when I realized that I was in the race with the 5th graders! To this day I remember only two other things. One, I was not going to quit and two, how wonderful my mother’s arms were at the finish line.

  4. Jen RadosevichOctober 25, 2010 at 1:15 pm

    Every time I hear this section of Paul’s letter to Timothy, I am reminded of my graduation from Catholic Biblical School–how we sang this song after Communion and how it was so full of meaning–everyone was moved. It wasn’t just that we had finished, but that we had finished well–celebrating “victories” with Jane, Kathy, Jennifer, so many things . . . It also holds, what I feel like, was a special message just for “our group” at Peg’s funeral this spring.

    I was a little surprised by your reflections, Kathy . . . Paul poking fun at Nero? But, I have to say, the more I think about it, the more I love it. I love the idea that we’ve missed something of an ‘inside’ joke–after all, we are only getting one side of the letter writing. How good is God, that even in the absurd–as Nero surely was–God can reveal His goodness and love?

    I have to say too, on a little bit of a personal note, I love that Peg was in on the joke before me. I loved that you help me to be surprised and challenged by scripture that is so familiar. It only serves to make it that much more comforting. Thanks!

  5. ChrisOctober 26, 2010 at 2:51 am

    I always envision Paul breathing hard as I read this … “I have competed well” – breathe – “I have finished the race” – breathe – “I have kept the faith.” – breathe. The last phrase is the one that gets me, that challenges me, “I have kept the faith”. It is the key to it all, our willingness to keep coming back, to get up when we fall down, to fight back the darkness, to just pray.

    I pray we all keep the faith of our baptismal vows and that we have the courage to lean on our God when we are weak.

  6. ChrisOctober 26, 2010 at 2:53 am

    BTW, thanks Kathy for this web site and helping us to all think a little deeper about our faith.

  7. leehemmingerOctober 26, 2010 at 4:20 pm

    Brebis – I hope you don’t always feel that you run this race alone; allow those of us here to accompany you, and lift you up when you need it.

  8. CrisOctober 26, 2010 at 6:17 pm

    I just want to thank everyone for stimulating my mind and heart regarding the scriptures. At the moment I am poised to give the final reflection tonight here at St Thomas More Lynchburg where I have been conducting the parish mission.
    Thank you all for your prayers and for sharing your experiences of the sacred. They have all been very helpful in my preparation. Gratefully- – Cris

  9. MichaelCarlosOctober 27, 2010 at 2:06 am

    I love Kathy’s suspicion that there is an insider’s joke in this week’s epistle. I wonder how many people noticed there is an interesting rhetorical trick played on readers in the gospel.

    Notice the opening line: “He then addressed this parable to those who were convinced of their own righteousness and despised everyone else.” First of all, it’s INCREDIBLY rare for the evangelists to intrude on the gospel in this way by introducing an explanation that is clearly editorializing. This is not one of the tricky parables: it’s clear at the end which attitude of prayer is preferred in God’s eyes. So why introduce the story this way? If you pay attention, the moment you hear that this parable is aimed at the self-righteous, what is your instinctive response? That’s right: “He’s certainly not talking about ME!” The evangelist sets us up to choose a side, so we naturally assume we’re one of the good guys, and we are sure the message is for someone else. But that’s the joke: it’s precisely this same attitude that is condemned in the parable. It’s a real dilemma, and at the heart of our call to live as witnesses to the gospel and at the same time to humbly acknowledge our need for grace and forgiveness where we are struggling or weak.

    Each week, I read the rich reflections on this site that are composed with such intimate, poetic power. There is a real humility in these personal stories, and a clear reluctance to fall into pride. But I hope that everyone who has had the courage and generosity to share your thoughts knows how brightly your faith shines, how your witness is a light to others who share this journey with you. Thank you for articulating the grace you encounter and the struggles you face as the Word stirs in us each week. You are a gift!

  10. brebis galeuseOctober 27, 2010 at 2:17 pm

    Lee, I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t get any help in running the race. What I meant to convey is that my salvation is my responsibility. God is holding eternal life for me, and I need to accept it. Of course, others are helpful by example and compassion, but only I can accept God’s grace for me. Therefore, I ultimately run the race alone.

    And, MichaelCarlos, whenever I hear these readings, my reaction is to pull a dagger out of my heart, knowing that I am one of those to whom it is addressed. I end up in an examination of conscience that’s wholly embarrassing, because I am self-righteous. I do think that I hold to Christ’s teachings better than others. It’s my pride that makes me believe that he is pointing a finger at me . . . and me alone. While I don’t actually pray in thanksgiving for being unlike the sinners, neither do I pray, “Lord forgive me for I am a sinner.”

  11. Gloria A. VarelaOctober 27, 2010 at 6:22 pm

    Running the race seemed easier when I was younger. As an older woman I see the finish line from a different perspective. It isn’t just “a race”, anymore. It is now life. How am I called to finish my life? by Doing? or, by learning to Be in life in a different way? I am starting to read Joan Chittister’s book THE GIFT OF YEARS. I pray that I will learn how to walk (instead of run) the race, to be more gentle with myself, and, in so doing, that I will enjoy my surroundings more fully.

  12. CrisOctober 27, 2010 at 7:19 pm

    Thanks for your very calming input, Gloria. The race and the competition are seductive. Worse, even frenetic. Thanks for helping me focus on be-ing. – – Cris

  13. DonnaOctober 28, 2010 at 2:38 am

    What great discussions this week!
    Thank you Kathy and Thomas for the background on Nero, all these years reading this scripture and I never knew!
    Thinking about the question of running the race,and keeping my Baptismal promises.. I know that throughout my life I have stumbled in this “race” and sometimes I find myself crawling but by the grace of God I keep on going.
    I, like Michael Carlos, always find myself intrigued by this Gospel message, and he said it so well..”to humbly acknowledge our need for grace and forgiveness” Amen!
    This reminds me of one of my favorite scripture verses in Micah, “to do justice, and to love kindness, and walk humbly with your God”
    I plan on reading the book that Gloria mentions, and recommend a great book that I just finished that has enriched my own prayer life, entitled “The Jesuit Guide to almost everything” by James Martin, S.J.
    God Bless!

  14. leehemmingerOctober 28, 2010 at 6:56 pm

    Gloria, thanks for your great input. Being in my later years, it is still a mystery how to BE…there is still so much to be DONE, and sometimes I feel called to DO something about it. And, economic reasons dictate that I still must work, so it seems there is just not enought time to simply BE as often as I would like.
    @Brebis…we do ultimately run the race alone, don’t we? I hadn’t thought about it in your perspective. But, with God’s wonderful grace and love, we’ll make it to the end.

  15. adminkOctober 29, 2010 at 5:26 pm

    Hi everybody,

    What a wonderful week you all provided for the hundreds of readers on this site. The contributions are all so thoughtful and rich. People tell me all the time how much they enjoy reading the conversations.

    Jen, how great to hear from you again. Yes, I heard from many of the members of that great graduation class this week. We all hold this scripture from 2 Timothy so close to our hearts because it was the signature scripture of your class. We had all fought hard to finish the race, and the closeness of your class is one of the great fruits of that struggle.

    As we near All Saints and All Souls Day, may I ask you all to remember the two members of that class who sang the beautiful song that goes with that text with all their classmates that day? Jen Baxley and Peg Howlin have finished their race. O resurrected Christ, bring them into the fullness of light and life with you.

    And may I ask one more favor? I’ve been to two funerals of Biblical School grads this year, and both women died of ovarian cancer. Now, another grad, Mary Ellen Johnson, has been diagnosed with at least Stage Three ovarian cancer. Since I was blessedly healed of that disease, I have the courage to ask all of you to join me in praying for Mary Ellen as she searches for the strength to climb the mountain ahead of her.

    All you holy men and women, pray for us!

  16. adminkNovember 1, 2010 at 6:46 pm

    Oh, I am so sorry. How could I have forgotten that we also lost our dear classmates Jane Mahoney and Dale Monchego that year as well?

    And THANK YOU to all who have written to say that you are praying for Mary Ellen. She needs those prayers so badly. She has a steep mountain to climb.

    Love to you all—
    Kathy

  17. KarenNovember 2, 2010 at 4:04 am

    Thanks so much Kathy and Jen for remembering our Biblical School Class so lovingly. I too hear the song in my head everytime I read this scripture from 2 Timothy, and I tear up, missing those who have gone before us into the Hands of God… Thanks also for sharing the insight regarding Nero and that St. Paul was likely “making fun” of the emperor! It certainly changes the way I read this scripture specifically, and other Pauline texts too!

  18. BobbieNovember 4, 2010 at 9:39 pm

    How do you feel you are doing in “running the race” of faithfulness to your baptismal vows?
    Another election season has come to an end. I am so glad! There are too many promises that in reality should not be made and undoubtedly will be broken. But that’s the way of it. We try to take people at their word and then hang on to it.
    This Nero story has me chuckling and it makes me think of the political campaign as a race of competitors. Of course, my mind goes off to consider how our world has become so competitive. In some ways we’ve lost the message of cooperation. We compete for the lowest prices on things and send our companies overseas to leave so many people jobless in the US, while people in the third world work in our companies for pittance. We compete with the neighbor for who has more “stuff,” although I think he economy has slowed down the buying just because…. We compete with our ideology, theology, methodology. Who’s right, who’s wrong? We stand against each other. And like Nero, I think sometimes we stand against ourselves. I know that for me it wasn’t easy to vote. I had to wrestle with myself to be faithful to the way baptism calls me to live.
    It’s the everyday decisions that demonstrate my faithfulness. What candidate do I support? How do I live a “green” life? What do I recycle? How much “stuff” do I accumulate? With whom do I share what I have and who I am? How do I stand in solidarity with the poor? How do I spend my time? How do I pray and worship? What am I doing to grow in my relationship with a God who calls me to victory, a victory over myself, my false self, my sinfulness? The Faithful One calls me to faithfulness. Hmmm…. Who has priority for me? Whether I walk or run, skip or dance, I know that I have to follow Jesus the Leader. He is the One who invites cooperation, oneness, and community. Do I “run the race?” I don’t have one drop of athletic blood inside me so I’ll just pray, “Jesus, hold my hand. Walk with me? Please.”
    What great insights from everyone. Thank you.

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Twenty-ninth Sunday – Ordinary Time Cycle C

17 October 2010
Comments (11)

Reflecting on Exodus 17: 8-13

Last Sunday I was giving a talk about biblical history.   I had a big, heavy burlap chart that needed two people to hold it.  About ten minutes into this lesson Fred, dropping his arms (and thus the chart) said, “Will Aaron be coming soon?”  And the class, very biblically literate, erupted in laughter, recalling this story today from Exodus about Moses’ arms being held up by Aaron in the heat of the battle.

Victory, Oh Lord Painting by John Everett Millias 1829-1896

I looked at the couple I had recruited for the chart-holding task.  Their arms were aching, but they had dutifully stretched that chart across the room until they just couldn’t hold it anymore.  They, and hundreds of others, have been holding up the good works of the Church all their lives.

Afterwards, the doors of the hall burst open and a group of beautiful young adults came rushing in, hastily setting up the cots for a number of homeless families who will be staying at the parish this week.  They are part of a whole army of parishioners who will hold up the arms of these struggling families, providing friendship, food and shelter for them as the adults go to their jobs or look for work this week.

My cousin Maureen has a long list of people for whom she prays, every single day.  The years come and go, but she is always there, like the widow in Luke’s story today, holding up in prayer those who are sick, or jobless, or divorcing, or grieving.

Will Aaron be coming soon?  As I look at the faithful work of the Church around the world I can confidently say that he is already here.

Sharing God’s Word at Home:

How are you helping to hold up the arms of the weary?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

11 Comments to “Twenty-ninth Sunday – Ordinary Time Cycle C”

  1. brebis galeuseOctober 17, 2010 at 2:00 pm

    Ah, perseverance . . . tenacity . . . persistence . . . singleness of purpose . . .

    How well do I keep my eyes on the finish line?

    Which of my distractions fit into the requirements of the race? Righting a wrong? Speaking against an evil? Encouraging a parent?

    The human mind is capable of justifying almost any action. I try to guard against rationalizing my actions in light of the race, but I know that I fail often. Then, the graces of perseverance, tenacity, persistence and singleness of purpose give me the opportunity to turn back and focus on the finish line.

    My biggest difficulty is what Jesus tells his disciples, to pray always without becoming weary. I need to remember to pray not for what I want but for the will of God. It is not my worst fault, but it is right up there . . . wanting my will rather than God’s.

  2. beckyOctober 17, 2010 at 6:14 pm

    I am waery therefore I am lifted up more than I lift.
    I use to love charity work, I thrived on it. and I miss doing the things that I use to do, the things that made me feel alive and needed. But it seems that since I’ve retired and gone disability that I just don’t have the drive that I once had. I try to help my two little great-nieces. and their mom but even that wears on me sometimes. I think that I have told been too many time that I am an enabler. And now I worry that I may be loving those I love to the gates of hell or something. I miss the days when a good deed was just that “a good deed”. I do thank God for all the support and care I receive from friend and family. I am so truly Blessed. last sping I move into an appartment the first time in many year that I have been on my own and alone. And my need to move for the second time with in a year came about so sudden, but the Lord provided me with a good friend and her family and my uncle and hie family, and the move went though smoothly! I have had to learn that excepting help from those who want so to do good things for me is a charitable act as well. It’s not easy and down right embarrasing at times, I think they call that pride. But when I remember the inner peace I received when it was me giving help, and how worry that I felt when I wasn’t able too, I can’t say no thanks to their beaming smiles of love and care. I am waery and I am Blessed. Becky

  3. brebis galeuseOctober 18, 2010 at 12:56 am

    Becky — I was glad to read that you realize that allowing others to help you is a charitable act. I had a priest friend years ago who told me that when he asked me to do something for him, it was a gift to me. I thought about that a lot before realizing that he was correct. He gave me the gift of being able to do something for someone else.

    You and I have reached the time when we cannot do what we did before. So, we can now give the gift to others to allow them to do what we used to do. That is a great gift, isn’t it?

  4. beckyOctober 18, 2010 at 4:59 am

    Thank You Brebis, I was just glad that someone understooded what I was trying to say what with all my typos. There are many cycles in life. No one is on top forever, but it is hard to let go of the reins to a way of life like being a care taker, isnt it. It’s the cross we bear while on earth in these bodies. It’s with the grace we answer the calls from God that determine who we have become at each stage of life, that makes us saints and sinners.

  5. leehemmingerOctober 18, 2010 at 4:46 pm

    I confess that these past three years have been a lesson in humility. I have been humbled again and again, as the eldest child who grew up with the expectation of being able to do all things, for all people. And, certainly able to take of myself!! There have been times when there was no alternative to accepting help, when I was simply unable to do some things. But, ASKING has been another lesson entirely – it was more likely that I would just do things (like driving, when it wasn’t the safest thing to do) than ask for help. Maybe it was just plain pride, but also there was a component of fear, not wanting to feel let down when those asked were not able or available to assist. What I was able to ask for was prayers, which obviously was the most important, as I am now living a miracle of improvement. But, even that request wasn’t extended to every arena – you will notice that my name has been conspicuously missing from the parish prayer list. But, in the familiar arena of the Sisters of Charity it was easier to ask that they storm heaven for my intentions. And, I certainly did not always receive God’s will with grace. My journey to sainthood has been a bumpy one, and I continue to ask God for the strength, wisdom and acceptance to take the next step. One of my mom’s isms was “Pride goeth before a fall.” She didn’t ever say how far we had to fall.

  6. Steve GivensOctober 18, 2010 at 4:52 pm

    Makes me stop and ask myself this question today: who has been holding up their arms for me while the powers of good and evil duel for my life? Whoever you are, thanks be to God for you and praise to the One who pays attention to little things like me…

  7. vivianOctober 18, 2010 at 6:42 pm

    For 27 years I have been a divorced mother of five beautiful children. In the first few years of that time, I wondered how I would survive, how my children would be able to thrive without the benefit of their father, living at home and working. For many years, he earned a very good income. It allowed us the Catholic school education in grade school and high school. It was difficult after the divorce. I found a full-time job, continued with their education as it was, as the years went by, they each were emancipated, the child support was gone. We still needed to live, eat, travel back and forth to school and work. I struggled financially, eventually losing our big and spacious home. I remember the day I walked out of that home for the last time, dearest Kathy told me to walk around, take a last look and remember all the wonderful times spent there, the great parties inside and outside in the yard, and to leave all the bad memories there, close the door and look to my new home and build memories again. I thought then that I would surely give out, I realized that all along, not only was I being held up by both of my arms, but, that God was truly carrying me. He kept me on the right path, my children flourished as I did also. I loved my job working for the library. A job I kept for 26+ years and retired from last November. I now have 6 beautiful grandchildren, my daughters are all wonderful mothers and my son is a kind, loving, generous uncle to his nieces and nephews. I am very proud to be their mother. I was asked many times, who did you lean on in those lean times, my answer was always, on God… He has never let me down…

  8. sandyeroybalOctober 19, 2010 at 1:44 am

    Hi Kathy,
    I am not sure if I am logged-in or not. I am not receiving your weekly comments. I did receive them at first, but not lately. I love this site and I love reading everyones stories.

  9. CrisOctober 19, 2010 at 4:06 pm

    Vivian’s story leaves me pondering… how faithful God is even outside that sacrament of marriage! He never abandons his little ones. This is one of the reasons why I try to correct people explicitly when they refer to divorced people as coming from a “broken family.” Some people who are married are more “broken” than divorcees. – – Cris

  10. clm1127October 20, 2010 at 1:57 am

    Thank you, Cris, for the difference: Broken families aren’t necessarily the ones of divorce. Many things break families. And in review of the comments about helping others. You may never be able to pay back what someone does for you but you can always pay it forward! Allowing someone to be generous gives the giver grace also!

  11. Gloria A. VarelaOctober 22, 2010 at 4:22 pm

    My dear mother, Julieta 102, just passed away, surrounded my family and so much love! My husband and I cared for her in her elder years. You could say we were her ‘Aaron’ in so many different ways…truely, a blessing for us, to see the physical/mental decline of a person, to the very last breath. The paschal mystery…her dying, her death, with full expectation of her resurrection. Certainly those who have been close to us never die, as we carry them with us where ever we go, to the greater honor and glory of God.
    I am helping one of my daughers at this time in my life.I travelled out of state to be part of her little family as she awaits to deliver her third child. As a mother of five, I so appreciate all young mother’s sacrifices, having, and raising their children. The new generation. The future members of the Body of Christ. Amen.

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Twenty-eighth Sunday – Ordinary Times Cycle C

9 October 2010
Comments (19)

Reflecting on Luke 17:11-19

Do you have a certain time in your life that is so indelibly marked in your heart that you return to it almost daily?  For me that time is the fall of 2007, when a staph infection took me to the very limits of my strength.  Those horrible months are all stamped in my memory: the screaming pain, the overwhelming nausea, and the second-by-second waits for the medication to start working.  Those flashbacks return to me now, in this gorgeous fall of 2010, through the distinct sensory messengers of cooling days, leaves changing, and darkness descending earlier.  And this is what that suffering has seared in me:

One returned and thanked him

Utter delight, every single time I drive myself anywhere in the car.  Almost unbearable pleasure at the smell of apples falling from the trees. Laughing out loud as I walk by myself down the block in less than a minute, remembering the agony of trying to take even five steps at a time.  The ecstasy of walking into the grocery story.  The heavenly touch of those who love me.

But I think the most delicious experience of all is remembering, the endless remembering, of being brought back from the depths by the living Body of Christ―the hundreds of friends and family who took care of me through it all.   There can never be enough words of gratitude.  But it’s kind of a “cellular gratitude”.  It’s not anything conscious.  Pain dug a well that is now filled to overflowing with astonished gratitude.  Like the cured Samaritan leper, I will give thanks while I live.

Sharing God’s Word at Home:

Have you reached a place of “cellular gratitude”?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

19 Comments to “Twenty-eighth Sunday – Ordinary Times Cycle C”

  1. brebis galeuseOctober 9, 2010 at 12:20 am

    My heart is indelibly marked this time of year, too. It was ten years ago, as I watched my second son fighting for his life. I will never forget the ravages of chemotherapy and three fatal doses of radiation on his body to prepare him for the bone marrow transplant that didn’t, ultimately, work. Hate-filled words his bride screamed at him when he was at his lowest still come to my mind at the most unexpected times. The lack of support from my family members during his last months, when I needed them most still pains me at times. My mother screaming at me in front of my friends after the Rosary the night before his funeral, “I’m going to give you ONE LAST CHANCE to allow us to support you,” after the total silence from my family for the previous three months is indelibly imprinted on my brain.

    The worst kind of grief is that of a parent following the death of a child. I had already experienced this when my first son died, so I knew some of what to expect. I did not count on the help from the Holy Trinity, but it was there with all the graces I needed. I began to realize how many women want children but do not get that opportunity. I am grateful for the experience of mothering two beautiful, wonderful sons.

    I am most grateful for God’s grace keeping me from retaliating for hurts imposed on my baby (he was always my baby even at 28) — I am grateful that God’s grace covered my anger and allowed me to say the things that would be comforting to my son instead of the things that in my humanness I wanted to scream at those doing the hurting.

    My cellular gratitude is that Curt is now with his brother J.R. in heaven waiting for their Mom. I do not cling to this life, as much as I enjoy it most of the time, because I know that if I do what it takes to win the race, I will be with those sons for all eternity. How could one not be grateful for that?

  2. beckyOctober 10, 2010 at 5:07 am

    I have had many health issues over the years. And as I meet the peaks and valleys in the medical journey I have had to remember that doctors are people too. I have been blessed with really good one and I have had some that were sour grapes. Bitter and mean. But all along I always tell myself that my life is in God’s hands. If I live one more day or one hundred more years, it all in His good wisdom and grace that I am at all. I don’t like suffering it is the only part of illness that scares me. Death is not the thing I fear. But getting there is what I never want to journey through. Perhaps it’s because I spent many many years watching members of my family suffer long and hard illnesses. I have seen it divide us little by little. My sister’s baby died from SIDS at 21/2 months and then a week later our mom died after 2 months in ICU. Both were hard to deal with only one was a shock. But I have learned that what doesn3 kill us make us stronger if we have the courage to trust God and His wisdom, and His mercy.

  3. noory42@aol.comOctober 10, 2010 at 10:12 am

    Dear Kathy, I attended your lecture on Saturday,
    October 9 at St. Mary’s in Littleton, CO
    My love and prayers are with you as you
    continue this mission of Jesus’ Real Presence.
    How wonderful to hear your talk, it was a
    blessing for me.
    God bless you and Ben

  4. defensorOctober 10, 2010 at 7:05 pm

    I know extactly what you’re are talking about a staph infection. I had the same thing you had in the same hip, I had 4 surgeries, all together 8 surgeries. I didn’t know what to think, when I was going through all these surgeries, one think that I see now is how God was trying to get me closer to Him. you see that was the only time that I would go into deep prayer, with every surgerie. and when that was over, I would go back to my old ways. today I see his plan and am very grateful for his patients.He has given me a chance to live in his presence. my spirtual life is very good. Thanks to God.not to forget His Mother.

  5. bonita a richardsOctober 10, 2010 at 9:11 pm

    Am I registered on the Church of the Risen Christ denver web site?

  6. beckyOctober 11, 2010 at 10:30 pm

    Yeah, it’s me again. I have thought about my comment, and it wasn’t my best efford to express myself. Here is an example thats more personal. In 1988 I had an infection in my leg, I get celluitist pretty often because I have psoriasis. From that infection I developed blood clots that went to my lungs.One night I woke up and couldn’t breathe. While I was in the hospital my fever was so high that I hallucinated. When I was being let go. The doctor told me that I almost died. You know, I knew it, but hearing it was painful. There have been so many of these near death times what with car accidents and all, I am amazed at the mercy of God. Sometime I don’t know who I am that God reaches out and draws me back time and time again. This is how I have learned of the great love the Father has for His children. I once thought of suicide and He reminded me of all the times I could have died and didn’t. I learned what a gift this life is. Every life is call forth by Him, none are mistakes!

  7. Barbara WilliamsonOctober 12, 2010 at 10:02 pm

    My Dearest Kathy,
    How I remember those days of your illness–but I knew how strong a woman you are and I knew you would make it thru it all. LOOK HOW FAR YOU HAVE COME—YOUR STRENGTH IS SHOWING AND YOUR POSITIVE ATTITUDE IS TRULY A MARVEL!!!! I AM TRULY BLESSED TO HAVE YOU AND BEN AS FRIENDS
    Blessing
    Barbara

  8. CrisOctober 12, 2010 at 10:02 pm

    Brevis and Becky are saints! Thanks for your stories. It’s easy to be grateful when things are going well but when life clobbers you with a 2 X 4, repeatedly – – and you still keep singing the praises of the Lord, this is no longer a human act. It’s a God event.

    Thank you for these lessons. Pray that I truly learn from them.

    Cris

  9. leehemmingerOctober 13, 2010 at 2:23 am

    I guess I’ve been like the other 9 lepers in the past year; failing to give thanks for the good news. The past three years have been filled with so many things I have trouble remembering which one came when. In August 2007, they did a lung biopsy to diagnose an interstitial lung disease, pulmonary fibrosis, and the first of October told me my life expectancy would be 2-3 years. Then, October 27, 2007 I sutained a terrible fracture of my right humerus, leaving me unable to live my life with much activity (and unable to assist my dear friend Kathy in her time of need). A failed union requiring surgery to pin my arm the next summer; rapidly progressing cataracts due to high dose prednisone requiring bilateral eye surgery; the deaths of my 32 year old grandson, and two nephews age 35, two years apart; bilateral knee surgery; two car accidents, both totalling the car and one fracturing my sternum; one wonders which suffering is worse – physical or emotional. They both take their toll, and when they come in waves together it’s hard to tell them apart. Then, in January, when the tests on my lungs indicated an improvement, I really could not give thanks. I was tired and had no energy to have to go on working and dealing with all the therapy, etc. What was the purpose of this new information, and what did God want from me? This was the first time in my life that I had so much trouble dealing with the suffering in life, and it was difficult to feel God’s presence. Prayers continued, but it just didn’t seem like I could hear the answers. I’m in a much better place now, working for full surrender to God’s will, waiting for His plan to be revealed, but the questions continue: the nephew who died last April was the brother of my 34 year old niece who is dying of melanoma; together their ages don’t add up to mine, and I would gladly trade places with either one of them. Renay’s mother is losing her last child, and I’m still here. “Take up my cross and follow me” is a directive we can’t begin to comprehend, and I echo Mother Teresa: “I know God doesn’t give us more than we can handle. I only wish he didn’t trust me so much”. I guess He has trusted several of us a lot recently.

  10. MichaelCarlosOctober 13, 2010 at 3:39 am

    Cellular gratitude. I love that phrase, and it immediately struck a chord in me. Yes, there is a moment and place that is a part of who I am – beyond analysis, beyond self-reflection, beyond conscious thought, but always there in its entirety when I reach for it. It blesses and sustains me, and makes me forever grateful for the gifts that have sprung from that experience.

    It’s a specific place: the second pew on the left side of the sanctuary in my childhood parish. My memory is not of a single point in time, but is the endlessly repeated habit of an entire childhood — daily mass through most of my eight years of parochial school; the parade of Sundays structured by the beautiful rhythm of the liturgical year; holidays, baptisms, weddings, and even funerals. I remember every sensory experience: the color of the light from those simple stained glass windows, the sound of the fans and the swamp coolers in summer, the touch of hands during the Lord’s Prayer, the dancing flames from the votive candles, and always, always the faces and voices of my parish family. 

    That pew was like a safe, sacred island around which the torrent of my life flowed. My childhood was not without its sadnesses and struggles, but in that place I could hold in my heart all the happiness and blessings as a counterweight to those fears and wounds, and all the bad stuff dissolved in the glow of that vibrant, loving community of faith. My hopes and happiness were anchored in the countless hours I spent in that pew. This memory lives in me, even now when I live fifteen hundred miles and twenty years away, even when I rarely enter a church these days. I can close my eyes and be there once again: a child of God in the embrace of an extraordinary assembly of believers.       

  11. leehemmingerOctober 13, 2010 at 5:00 am

    how beautiful, Michael. What a grace-filled spirituality. Thanks for sharing your memories.

  12. mikeandbetsyOctober 14, 2010 at 6:17 pm

    Kathy, your remarks about gratitude encourage me. They are beautiful, and they make me feel a deep happiness to read how you have recovered from that crisis. I just bless you for coming out of that dark place to the kind of joy you are experiencing now.

    It’s telling too, that a clear comparison exists between how you experience your memories, and how I had just written in my journal last week about my own. I was back in Ohio, and the smells and sights of fall, the sounds of the trees and leaves falling, brought me back to another year also. But the cellular response of that memory was one of regret and embarrassment…1981, and mistakes I was in the middle of making that affected other people. I realized that those memories caused a bodily response…shrinking in the middle, crying tears from inside organs, and more. Then the bodily sensation of depression, like a bad taste in the mouth, only it is everywhere else too.Then I read how your memories of 2007 caused you to feel the unbearable joy you are talking about. Just at the same time I had been writing about how the unpleasant memories were causing me to feel unpleasant things.

    But I realized something else…. there were other memories; the good things that were going on during that time, that made me smile, to feel that gratitude, and appreciation: an older nurse I was working with who was a loving friend, a book that my brother gave me that was so moving to me I wrote the author and received a handwritten gracious response, and other good things.

    I wondered about this: maybe some people are wired differently, like me, to allow the unpleasant memories to dominate, pushing down the good ones…while some are wired to attend to the good ones, like you Kathy.

    Maybe we could call my response a habitual lack of gratitude. However at least this time, I did realize I had been pushing down the sweet memories and I savored them for awhile.

    Sorry to go on and on. Just to say that I don’t think I would have been the leper who returned to Jesus, but one who couldn’t believe the cure and anxiously looked for signs of returning disease.

    Could prayer be the difference? Staying close to Jesus? Which causes a cellular presence of Our Lord? Which leads to joyful gratitude and faith? This is just more encouragement for me; to keep trying to do the same; pray and stay as close as I can to the Lord.

  13. beckyOctober 14, 2010 at 8:27 pm

    Thank You Cris, but trust me Im no saint. Im one of those people who says “if they only knew the real me”. I have experienced some unusual things in my life. But who hasnt? This is how my mom raised me, “also remember that no matter how tough life gets, someone else has been there, done that or worse”. By the grace of God there go I! Thanks to everyone who shared and opened my eyes and heart wide and more profoundly to His mercy this week. Becky

  14. brebis galeuseOctober 15, 2010 at 11:11 am

    I’m not a saint, either, but I hope to be one day.

  15. DonnaOctober 16, 2010 at 1:06 am

    What sacred stories filled with heartbreak, love and beautiful memories have filled this column!
    You are all such a blessing!
    Thank you!
    Donna

  16. mamidecincoOctober 16, 2010 at 1:32 am

    My husband’s grandfather died this summer. He and my husband had a wonderful relationship and that was passed down from the two of them to our five children. His wishes were for no Mass, no funeral, no memorial. But I knew that my husband and our children needed a chance to remember him and to say “good bye for now”. They needed some closure as this was a very difficult loss. So we loaded everyone in the car and drove to California to his grave site.

    It was just the 7 of us at his grave. We stood and prayed. Then we started remembering. Everyone from my husband, our 13 year old son, all the way down to our two 6 year olds shared memories of their great grandfather. And as they shared and I listened and remembered…my heart was just filled to overflowing with gratitude. Gratitude that my husband and children had known this man and been loved so deeply by him…that he had managed to make each one of them feel like the most special person in the world to him. There wasn’t room for sorrow in my heart in those moments at his grave side…just complete joy and gratitude for God’s blessing of this man to my family.

    I was taken by surprise by feeling joy in a moment like that, but every time I think of that hot August day outside of Los Angeles, my heart swells with love and I can’t help but be thankful for the gift of love each of my family members have experienced through their grandfather.

    ~Kim

  17. eileenOctober 16, 2010 at 4:12 am

    I stood in church on Sunday next to my 92yr.old mother as this gospel was read. As it began speaking about the lepers I immediately felt part of the story. They were healed by Jesus who then told them to go see the priest. Why go to the priest? It was his responsibility to give the okay for them to return to their community, to let others know they are okay. Now ask yourself what if the priest had said NO? What if he wouldn’t even see them? This is where I find myself in this gospel. In accepting my homosexuality I felt the love of Jesus as I longed for his healing. I too went to the Bishop of Denver asking for acceptance but you know the end of that story. I held back the tears as I stood next to my mother. She is from the time when the Church was not an institution to be questioned. I stood with my head down, still too ashamed to tell her who I am.

  18. adminkOctober 16, 2010 at 3:55 pm

    Hi everybody,

    I am so touched, so deeply moved by the honest and deep sharings on the site this week. Thank you so very much for trusting this space, and its readers. I hope that it will continue to be a safe place for reflection and faith-building.

    I think the new essay for this weekend will be coming up soon, so let me just thank you all for a wonderful week.

    Kathy

  19. Artseller63October 16, 2010 at 8:04 pm

    Your reflection for the 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time, in which you shared with us your thoughts on “cellular gratitude,” hasinspired me to share… While I admit I have not been through the ordeals you have, life has brought me to the point where your words resonate loud and clear, beginning when – each day about 3:30 AM – my eyelids pop open and as soon as I realize I’m awake, I thank God for allowing me to try one more day to live my fullest for Him. With the exception of my sinful humanness, every single day is filled with gratitude for just being alive.

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