Advent is fast approaching. Though I love Advent, I have always struggled with the traditional style of Advent reflections. I’m turning this year instead to The Liturgical Year by Prosper Guéranger: Mary’s immense happiness upon holding in her arms the Word who was made Flesh, her Son and the Son of God, on the sacred night of his birth surpassed even the immense joy when she had been overshadowed by the Holy Spirit and received from Him the divine fruit of her womb. During the nine months when Jesus was undividedly hers, what must have been her preparation?
Christians! Your Communions during Advent prepare you for your Christmas joy, by giving you something of the delight which Mary felt before the birth of Jesus. Yes, Jesus, you are coming to me, you who entered into Mary’s virginal womb, making it the sanctuary of your Majesty. You had prepared her, from her conception, with every grace, so that you had but to leave one heaven for another. Alas, my soul is weak in faith. I bow down my whole being before you, using your Mother’s blessed words: ‘May it be done to me according to your word. (see The Liturgical Year 94-95)
I have to admit that I definitely prefer the gospel passage where Jesus proclaims himself the Good Shepherd to this one read in today’s Mass which promises persecution and betrayal. The Good Shepherd who looks after his flock, keeping them safe from predators, rescuing them when they are lost, guiding them home, sleeping at the entrance to the sheepfold.
How could the same Jesus who promised me security and safety also tell me that I would be betrayed, persecuted, handed over, hated, and possibly lose my life?
For many years I pushed this passage to the back of my mind. There is certainly no bookmark in my Bible so that I could locate it quickly for meditation.
Today’s Gospel passage is one that makes us cringe. Is what Jesus says going to happen to us? To me? Or was Jesus just talking about the Twelve?
A few short verses after this passage, Judas betrays Jesus, Jesus gives us his body and blood at the Last Supper, and he walks the road to Calvary, a condemned prisoner betrayed by one of his own followers, hated, persecuted, handed over. Then he was put to death on a cross between two thieves.
“You will be hated by all because of my name, but not a hair on your head will be destroyed.”
While we may not be persecuted and put to death for the sake of Christ, every day comes with its own share of suffering. It is the courageous embracing of life’s struggles today that prepares us to embrace the cross in larger ways tomorrow that, yes, could even cost us our life.
The words of a therapist many years ago have stuck with me. In fact, they are the only words of his I remember: “Everything is okay. And even when they are not okay, they are still okay.” With time and the wisdom of years, I have learned that he was so right. No matter what has happened to me “not a hair on my head has been destroyed.” Yes, it is true that I have suffered loss of health, humiliation, pain, marginalization. Even as the tears cleansed and purged and healed, even as sadness ripped through my heart, I knew that somehow in God I was okay.
Jesus handed himself over to death because he was operating in the larger reality of divine and never-ending Love, and so it all had meaning. It all made sense. It was all okay. “Not a hair of his head was destroyed.”
When we pursue pleasure and fear pain, when we try to avoid death, when we are paralyzed by the idea of change that will cost us the perks and privileges of our lifestyle, the walls of human and spiritual destiny close in on us. Instead, when we face into the headwinds of reality with the courage that comes only through trust that we are indeed loved, when we choose to stand by the side of Jesus who alone is Truth, when we live by the beatitudes, when we bow before the Lord who calls us to walk the way to Calvary with him, our spirit expands and our soul is gradually overtaken by a supernatural joy beyond description.
On most days I probably would prefer to read the gospel of the Good Shepherd, but in reality, this is the gospel passage I most need to hear. To live in the world today with all its tempests and troubles one needs to be strong enough to trust in the always-greater reality of Love so that no matter what happens we can go forward knowing that “not a hair of our head will be destroyed.”
Praying with this Passage of Scripture
Lectio Divina is a way of listening to God as he speaks in his Word. It is a practice of communicating with God through Scripture and attending to God’s presence and what he wishes to tell us. In this slow and prayerful reading of the Word of God, we allow ourselves to be transformed by the Spirit who forms us into the image of Christ. There are four movements in Lectio Divina: Read (lectio), Meditate (meditation), Pray (oratio), Contemplate (contemplation).
Begin by finding a still space to pray. Breathe deeply and become quieter within. Abandon any agenda, worries or thoughts you bring to this prayer and entrust these things to the merciful care of God. Ask for the grace to be receptive to what God will speak to you through this Scripture reading. Grant me, Jesus Divine Master, to be able to know the mysteries of the kingdom of God and your unfathomable riches. Grant that your word penetrate my soul; guide my steps, and brighten my way till the day dawns and darkness dissipates, you who live and reign forever and ever Ame
Read (lectio) Begin by slowly and meditatively reading your Scripture passage out loud. Listen for a particular word or phrase that speaks to you at this moment and sit with it for a time.
“But before all this, they will seize you and persecute you. They will hand you over to synagogues and put you in prison, and you will be brought before kings and governors, and all on account of my name. And so you will bear testimony to me. But make up your mind not to worry beforehand how you will defend yourselves. For I will give you words and wisdom that none of your adversaries will be able to resist or contradict. You will be betrayed even by parents, brothers and sisters, relatives and friends, and they will put some of you to death. Everyone will hate you because of me. But not a hair of your head will perish. Stand firm, and you will win life.
Meditate (meditatio) Read the same passage a second time. As you re-engage the text, let the word or phrase that stood out become your invitation to speak from your heart with God who wishes to share his heart with you. Allow this word or phrase to wash over you and permeate your thoughts and feelings. You may wish to repeat this phrase quietly and gently for a period of time
Pray (oratio) Read the text a third time. Listen for what God is saying to you. Speak heart to heart with God. Notice the feelings that this conversation with God raises up within you. Share with God what you notice about your response to this conversation. You may wish to return to repeating the phrase quietly and gently, allowing it to permeate you more and more deeply.
Contemplate (contemplatio) Read the text a final time. Now be still and rest in God’s embrace. Ask God to give you a gift to take with you from this prayer. You might ask God if he is inviting you to do some action, for instance, make some change in your thoughts, attitudes or reactions, in the way you speak or how you treat others. Thank God for this gift and invitation as you conclude your prayer.
“We are a capacity, a pure capacity for Jesus; none can actuate and fill it but He…. We must not suffer ourselves to be in ourselves, except to see to it that Jesus Christ be living in us, and that He may use and enjoy possession of all that is within us.” (Cardinal Pierre de Berulle)
Image credit: Luis Carlos Bonilla Soto from Cathopic
“Well, I broke a piece off of the Rocking Santa while I was pulling it out of storage,” Dad said when I called him the other day. I caught my breath in the moment of awkward sadness. One more thing broken. One more memory chipped away. One more thing my mom loved that she would never be able to enjoy now that she is in Memory Care. One more piece of our life with her that wouldn’t be the same.
Since selling the house four years ago, Dad has one by one broken items that belonged to his family or Mom’s. He had held on to these fence posts that marked out the territory of his family identity, history, and memory. They were strategically placed around the apartment as if to say, “Everything is still the same.” They were physical connections to people and places that lived with him and within him all along. They were signposts to something important, but not important enough.
As each object is mended or boxed up and put away, Dad is assuming the role of becoming himself the memory keeper. The value of the things he has held on to is giving way to memories that are living with a depth he wasn’t capable of before this part of his journey to ultimate meaning.
The truth is that change is the essence of life. That existential crises are our greatest moments, passages in which we become more soulful, more transcendent, more thoughtful.
I must admit that there are things that I don’t want to break. Memories I don’t want to lose. I still create ways to convince myself that “everything is the same.”
I don’t know why I hang on to structures and routines and things for comfort and security. I don’t understand why even when I see its futility, I cling to the familiar and try to control things in order to reduce my anxiety.
The truth is that change is the essence of life. That existential crises are our greatest moments, passages in which we become more soulful, more transcendent, more thoughtful.
My experience with brokenness began with a stroke when I was just twenty-one. During the next forty years, Jesus visited me regularly with events that chipped away at what I thought was mine forever. Holding these things too tightly I had lived too close to the surface.
Just what does it mean to plunge deep into the capacity of the human soul to feel, to suffer, to glory, to remember, to cry, to laugh, to dream? Does it perhaps happen only when the things that we thought constituted memories are chipped and broken and quietly laid away?
We have no way of knowing the tender way in which God will open us to our own inner worlds. But we can be certain of this: God will turn us inside out and upside down through losses and sorrows probably many times in our life to accomplish in us what we so desire in ourselves.
Advent is a perfect time to reflect on the way the Lord is coming with song and jubilation to reconnect you to things deep and abiding in your life. For everything that chips and breaks, every memory you need to tuck away, every tear of nostalgia that is shed, God is kneading your heart, opening it to deeper presence, a greater nobility, and relaxed openness to the movement of love and grace.
Zion, herald of good news, go up on a high mountain. Jerusalem, herald of good news, raise your voice loudly. Raise it, do not be afraid! Say to the cities of Judah, “Here is your God!” See, the Lord God comes with strength, and his power establishes his rule. His wages are with him, and his reward accompanies him. He protects his flock like a shepherd; he gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them in the fold of his garment. He gently leads those that are nursing (Isaiah 40:9-11).
The grace we are asking of God: a deeply felt awareness of how God in all of history and most powerfully in the Word made flesh draws us into the unfolding of the mystery of his love which always is extravagant and which is ever seeking to save us. We desire that in doing this we enter into a process of healing and conversion that we might love Jesus and follow him more intentionally, completely, and wholeheartedly.
Horizons of the Heart is inspired by the Spiritual Exercises of St Ignatius and my own notes from my thirty-day Ignatian retreat in 2022.
Entering into Prayer
Offer your prayer to God, desiring that in every way it will give him glory.
Enter into one of the moments where the Gospels record Jesus praying to his Father. For instance, Jesus retiring to the mountains and spending the night in prayer. Draw near Jesus, perhaps kissing the ground upon which he is kneeling.
Imitate as nearly as you can the spiritual sensitivity of Jesus, the Word of God made flesh, in his all-night vigil before the Father… his posture… his grateful amazement… his return gift to his Father of complete surrender to him.
Assume the same posture, the same way of being, with all the way it spills over into your spiritual senses. “Taste” the sweetness of this gaze between Jesus and the Father. “Delight” in the divine communication of love that never ends between Father and Son….
End with gratitude, the gratitude Jesus shows his Father.
Entering the Story
Recall or determine what passage of the Gospel you will be using for your meditation. Take a few moments to center all your senses on the way one person or group is personally experiencing a single moment of this Gospel passage. Do you personally resonate with this experience in some situation or aspect of your life?
Ask for what you desire.
Read the passage from the Gospel. Focus on the moment of the engagement with Jesus. What is the person (or group) experiencing.
When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were terrified. But he said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.” Then they wanted to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat reached the land toward which they were going (John 6: 16-21).
Enter more deeply into the experience of the disciples as you feel inspired. Here is a possible thread you could follow:
The apostles were terrified. They were accomplished fishermen, but the Sea of Galilee was known for storms that arose without warning, putting small boats in danger of capsizing. These storms resulted from differences in temperatures as well as the differences in height between the seacoast and the mountains beyond. This resulted in strong winds that would drop to the sea, funneling through the hills creating violent results. Because the Sea of Galilee was shallow the waters could be “whipped up” more rapidly than deeper water, creating violent waves that put even larger boats at risk.
Yes. The apostles were terrified. Look, listen, taste, touch, smell that terror. What do you see? Grown men crying out, rushing around, depending on themselves to do something to save themselves. What do you hear? The disciples crying out in fear, their cries lost on the wind, as they faced death and loss. You taste the terror of men losing control of the situation, tossed about by the winds of nature.
Amédée Varin, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Immersing yourself in Jesus
Re-read the passage from the Gospel, noticing how Jesus experienced that moment, how he sensed it with all his bodily as well as emotional, mental, intuitive, and spiritual senses.
How is Jesus experiencing this moment? Don’t come up with an intellectual answer. Abide, instead, with the Word. Remain within Jesus and his experience. Allow him to reveal to you how he is most deeply experiencing his relationship with the disciples in this moment.
This may take you in any number of directions. In this passage Jesus is showing me he had this stance toward his disciples: no matter how hard they try, they cannot save themselves.
Revisit the narrative, using “the five senses of the imagination.”
Antonio Guillén helps us deepen this in this way:
Now it is no longer a matter merely of seeing and listening to the scene with the imaginative senses of sight and hearing. At this stage, all the other bodily senses come into play in one’s imagination: ‘to smell and taste with the senses of smell and taste the infinite gentleness and sweetness’, so that one touches with the sense of touch, ‘embracing and kissing the place where these persons tread and sit’ (Exx 124–125). This prayer becomes more a matter of the senses and feelings, and thereby emotionally more constant. (Imitating Christ our Lord with the Senses: Sensing and Feeling in the Exercises, The Way, Jan/April 2008).
In this passage, I was given to “taste” Jesus’ stability and power. I found myself bowing before him as my clothes and hair were whipped by the waves and rain. There I kissed his feet. Here there was a strange quietness, even in the midst of turbulence and danger. I “touched” clearly, how Jesus was more powerful than any storm. I felt immersed in his stability, as firm as a rock, in the midst of everything happening on the Sea of Galilee at that moment: the storms, the cries of fear on the part of the disciples, their terror at losing everything, even life itself. Jesus’ words: “It is I, do not be afraid,” were like incense, a sweet-smelling fragrance.
Entering still deeper into the mystery of Christ, allow your heart to taste, to smell, to touch the infinite gentleness and sweetness of Jesus. Allow your spirit to soak up what has been felt and known in this contemplative prayer.
As you do this your mind’s activity will fade into the background, and the mystery you are intuitively contemplating will begin to take over and engulf you, planting within your spirit an inner knowledge of the Lord.
You will at some point begin to intuitively sense the difference between the way Jesus spontaneously feels, speaks, and acts in a situation and the way you yourself feel, speak, and act in similar situations in your own life.
Antonio Guillén continues:
Thus as we pray, we allow the mystery of the life of Christ, which has become connatural with us and present…, to take over and engulf us. No one would deny that this exercise—something at the intuitive and not cognitive level—impregnates the soul and establishes firmly that ‘inner knowledge of the Lord.’ For now the senses and feelings have taken on the same orientation as the reason and the affective will, ‘a more intimate assimilation of what has been contemplated, a sort of impregnation, the spirit’s soaking up what has already been felt’—‘that I might the better love and follow him’ (Exx 104).
Growing in Perfect Understanding
Explore the two ways of experiencing this one situation: the way of the disciples and the way of Jesus. We are also in the same type of stormy situations and have a choice about the way we will live through them: as the disciples or as Jesus.
The disciples in this story experienced terror. They did not experience Jesus’ presence. They felt alone. They had no trust or confidence. They were without hope.
Their experience is a window into what Ignatius called “spiritual desolation.” St. Ignatius describes desolation as, “darkness of soul, disturbance in it, movement to low and earthly things, disquiet from various agitations and temptations, moving to a lack of confidence, without hope, without love, finding oneself totally slothful, tepid, sad as if separated from one’s Creator and Lord.” Spiritual desolation is fundamentally a movement away from feeling the reality of the presence of God.
Julius Sergius von Klever, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Now enter into your experience of Jesus in this same situation. In my case, it was an experience of stability and power, the firmness of the rock that is attributed to God alone, and that nothing in this world can move. There was a sense of God’s nearness, an increase in faith.
This experience is a window into what Ignatius called “spiritual consolation.” t. Ignatius said consolation is when, “Some interior movement in the soul causes the soul to come inflamed with love of its Creator and Lord,” it is when the soul strives to love no created thing more than the Creator of all. Saint Ignatius also calls consolation, “Every increase of hope, faith, and charity, and all interior joy that calls and attracts the soul to heavenly things and to salvation.”
Take a few moments to reflect upon how right now you can find yourself in such “storms” in your life: in relationships, reversals of fortune, accusations and misunderstanding, losses, illness. Our first reaction may be to cry out in terror, and that is perfectly understandable. If we remain here, however, we are experiencing only our fear with no real means of dealing with it, just like the disciples. When we move from terror into the stability and power of Jesus who is in the storm but not affected by the storm, greater than the storm, walking on the waves created by the storm, we discover how he reveals his presence to us, “It is I, do not be afraid.” The decisions we make from this space are truly wise, inspired, and blessed.
This prayer changes the way we perceive and experience reality. We learn how to be in Jesus and to imitate him in the way he experienced every aspect of human need and desire…
We reach more perfect understanding when we take quality time to feel with Jesus, as he reveals himself, looking and hearing, touching and tasting, in the Gospel Word. Contemplating Jesus becomes the path to imitating Jesus.
Rest in that awareness as Jesus helps you to resonate with what he resonates with. As you enter into his feelings and the way he uses his senses, you will gradually lose interest in your own spontaneous reactions, defenses, and self-promotions. Jesus will bring you to his way by attraction, sweetness, and beauty. He will make you feel safety, belonging, and hope.
“To educate our senses and feelings, to become imbued with his way of being and feeling, of resonating with everything that made him resonate, of abhorring everything that he abhorred, of reacting to things and to people as he sed to react, to spontaneously (the goal) feel with Jesus—to be more like him [than ourselves]…” (Imitating Christ our Lord with the Senses: Sensing and Feeling in the Exercises: Antonio Guillen (The Way, 47/1-2, Jan/April 2008), 225-241).
A gift to take with you
Allow an image or object that encapsulates all these experiences to form in your mind. Take some time to speak with God about the meaning or significance of this object.
Ask Mary, Joseph and Jesus to show you one specific gift they wish to give you. Receive it and remain in stillness and quietly relaxed presence under the influence of the Holy Spirit.
Reviewing the Graces of Prayer
When you finish praying, write down the main gifts and discoveries from this time of intimate contemplation. What is one concrete thing you can do to solidify these gifts in your life.
Questions about life’s meaninglessness, about the way in which our days pass like vapor, about how all that we do and accomplish seems to vanish without a trace as we age, these burden not just the heart of Qoheleth in today’s first reading, but at certain points in our lives these questions haunt us too. I once heard that the book of Ecclesiastes identifies the question to which the whole of Revelation is the answer. In this quickly changing world, all that our life has been seems to slip through our fingers, and our heart longs for life, true life, life that is a treasure that neither moth nor rust can destroy.
There is something cyclical in this description of continual, unending, “coming and going” of things. In this reading there is no sense of the enduring, of divine gift and guidance and mission, of an end which has been ordained for all things by God. Instead, the more things change, as the saying goes, the more things stay the same, endlessly repeating to seemingly no purpose.
Today many experience life in this way. Not being grounded in the fertile soil of God’s action and love, much of what constitutes activity in our world seems to have no real meaning. I believe that during the pandemic many began to feel this way. The tasks they had been doing in their jobs were now no longer satisfying to them, no longer seemed purposeful, no longer worth devoting their whole life to. They began to seek something more meaningful to do with their careers.
It is ultimately only God who truly defines us and the purpose of our lives, their unending purpose.
Touching the Sunrise 