Even in the dark you know me: a meditation for calming anxiety

Published on by Sr. Kathryn J Hermes, FSP2 Comments

Even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is as bright as the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
Psalm 139,12

I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep.
Jn 10,14-15


There is an anxiety that stems from not naming our fears. That comes when we don’t stop and ask ourselves why we suddenly feel so tired or why strangely the space that our heart occupies seems to have become tighter.

When this happens to me, I realize it is my body telling me it is time to stop and ask myself what it is I am afraid of. It is my own body telling me to go to the chapel and face my fears with Jesus!

It may seem surprising, but a shepherd counts his sheep several times a day, knows them all by name, and more, is able to identify each of the sheep in the dark by touch, so deeply he knows them. Our fears can disfigure our image of ourselves. That is why it is important to stop to face them, not as a nameless amalgamation of problems, but identifying each of the things that concern us. Only then can we surrender our fears one by one to Jesus.

Lord, help me remember that nothing we fear is unknown to Jesus. He is the Good Shepherd; he knows our name and is able to recognize us even in the middle of our darkness. Help me give Jesus my fears, one by one, and therefore liberate a space within me that is free to trust, a space that belongs to Jesus and where I can hear him say once again: “I give my life for my sheep.” Amen.

A reflective pause

  • Find a quiet place where you can pray, and take a cross with you
  • Breathe deeply
  • Bring to mind all that worries you right now.
  • Take a few moments to look at the cross and fix your gaze on the open arms of Jesus, who embraces all of humanity from the cross.
  • Welcome the embrace of Jesus who knows you by name.
  • One by one, tell Jesus all your fears.
  • Remain a few moments in interior silence and let Jesus open a space in you to trust.
  • With a free heart pray Psalm 23.
  • End with a word of gratitude to God.


To tuck in with you tonight

I trust, Lord, that even in the dark you know me.

by Sr Helena Marta Infante Gaspar, FSP

In your hands is my destiny

Published on by Sr. Kathryn J Hermes, FSPLeave a comment

“Command that these two sons of mine sit,
one at your right and the other at your left, in your kingdom.”

A Reflection on today’s Gospel reading: The mother of James and John requests places of honor for her two sons in the Lord’s kingdom.

Possibilities, prestige, power…. As any good mother looking out for the interests of her children, she took the opportunity to ask for places of honor for her two sons.

The other request for a place in the kingdom of Jesus that comes to mind is the request made by the repentant thief recorded in the gospel of Luke (23:42-43). 

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He replied to him, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

What is the difference between these two requests for a place in the kingdom? They clearly received two very different responses from Jesus.

The repentant thief speaks from a place of surrender, of petition, of awareness of his sin and his need. He turns to Jesus with the trust that is available to him at that most desperate moment of his life. He responds to the action of the Holy Spirit in the measure to which he is capable in this first encounter with his Savior. In a sense, we can say that he is more completely in the form of holiness which is Jesus himself, the form of obedient humble surrender:

Mary, the mother who stood beneath her Son as he died on the cross, no doubt heard this plea that broke from the heart of the repentant thief, and in her heart echoed her own words of obedient surrender uttered years earlier at the Annunciation, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38), and at the wedding feast of Cana: “They have no wine,” “Do whatever he tells you” (John 2:4-5).

The Kingdom of God is received, it is surrendered to, it is entered into by one’s complete alignment with God’s will for oneself. We can prepare ourselves, but we do this only by fertilizing the soil of our hearts through the living of the Beatitudes.

This is why it makes sense that Jesus asks the sons of Zebedee if they are ready to drink the chalice he was to drink. It was a matter, he was saying, of moving downward and pouring out one’s life for others. Then Jesus stated that he himself didn’t have that power to give away these seats in the Kingdom. This was a decision that was the prerogative of the Father. Jesus himself in his very identity as Son deferred in all things, in all ways, to his Father in complete and obedient surrender.

The request of the mother of the sons of Zebedee, and most probably the desire of the two apostles themselves, did not correspond to the very being of Jesus as Son and so was impossible to grant.

We are called to serve, to be last, to give our lives for others, to trust that the One who holds in his hands our very lives and defines our destiny is faithful and can be trusted.

What places of honor might you be seeking? They may be as world-oriented as the request of the mother of the sons of Zebedee or they might be as spiritual as great holiness or a ministry that stands out and stands above the mundane work of others. In any case, the trap is often very subtle. This Lent come to your Savior with your need and your poverty and see where he himself wishes to lead you.

But my trust is in you, O LORD;
            I say, “You are my God.”
In your hands is my destiny” (from today’s Psalm).

Image credit: Titian, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

 

I will turn your mourning to dancing: A meditation for calming anxiety

Published on by Sr. Kathryn J Hermes, FSPLeave a comment

You have turned my mourning into dancing;
you have taken off my sackcloth
and clothed me with joy.
Psalm 30:11

Now there was a royal official whose son lay ill in Capernaum. When he heard that Jesus had come from Judea to Galilee, he went and begged him to come down and heal his son, for he was at the point of death.
John 4:46b,47


Anytime I’m feeling anxious, I turn to Scripture and always find words of encouragement. These readings, above, are brimming over with hope and the promise of healing. And as the royal official in the story told by St. John experienced, God’s promise is always true. The official insisted that Jesus come with him to his house and cure his son, but Jesus does not comply with the official’s conditions; he doesn’t follow his directions, though he does cure the boy: “You may go; your son will live.” And the official believed Jesus and went home to find his son healed. Imagine how he first felt anxious because Jesus wasn’t following him home; and then imagine how that anxiety turned to joy!

There are times when I, too, tell the Lord not only what I need, but exactly how he should do it! I probably do that more than I realize. Even in my own worst days, as I experienced my own helplessness and vulnerability so acutely, I found myself praying, “Lord Jesus, what do you want of me? What is it you want me to do?” The answer that echoed in my heart was, “I don’t want you to do anything. I simply want you to remain in me and trust me.”

I know that in doing what he asks, I will experience his promise of “new heavens and a new earth.” He will most certainly change “my mourning into dancing.” In the meantime, while I wait in confidence, I am seeking to slow down, to accept the added limitations and spend some time in contemplative hobbies (I like to make rosaries); and become always more aware of God’s presence and his gifts – rejoicing and happy in what he creates.

Help me remember, God, before I lose myself in whatever it is that is frightening me, I can be still and remember these promises. You have promised my mourning will someday turn to dancing. You have promised my sadness will turn to joy. Help me to be patient, because everything happens in your time. You love me and you are with me, no matter how I feel, no matter what is going on in my life. You are always here. Amen

A reflective pause

  • Go to a place where you can be alone for a few minutes, where you can find silence. Find a posture or position that is relaxed and comfortable.
  • Breathe deeply. Inhale, exhale. Do it again.
  • If you feel sorrow creeping into your heart, tell it that it has no power. Sorrow and pain have no power over you. They have no power over God. God is stronger than all your grief, stronger than all your hurts.
  • Imagine Jesus speaking to you, and saying, “You do not have to do anything. All I want is for you to simply be. Be with me in this moment.”
  • Invite your heart to be still. Offer a word of gratitude to God.

To tuck in with you tonight

I trust, my God, that you know my sorrow and my pain.

by Sr. Mary Leonora Wilson, FSP