From my journal: God is
God is
God is acting
God acts in a nucleus of fragrant silence
in the storm, fire, earthquake.
Only stand and listen
at the entrance of the
cave
to the Word
of Silence.
where God reveals….
we only witness
worship
witness to others
martyrdom…
die to all else.
When the earth shatters seeds grow
This past weekend we learned of a terrible event that happened back in late November, when Ethiopian Orthodox Christians gathered for a festival along with others seeking refuge from the ongoing fighting in the Tigray region. Eritrean soldiers arrived at the monastery and opened fire, killing over 70 people. Other recent news including the killing of 18 protesters in the military crackdown in Myanmar.
And then I read a third article, in which I learned that laboratories across Africa and Southeast Asia stand ready to manufacture vaccines to meet a global shortfall—but the patent holders are unwilling to share crucial information that could save hundreds of thousands of lives.
I have to tell you this, my friends: I read all these stories and my Lent just broke open. What can I think, or say, or even pray in the face of such pain?
I have to take refuge in the cross, in Jesus on the cross, at that execution place where this season is leading us. Jesus knew. Jesus knew what would be in the hearts of all these victims. Even more than that, he knew what would be in the hearts of all these perpetrators. And his heart went out—to all of them.
I’m not a gardener, but many of my sisters are. What I have learned from them is that when the earth shatters—a little bit—seeds can find soil in which to grow. When our humanity shatters, when our hearts shatter, then there is a place for God’s love to enter and take root and flourish. It’s difficult not to focus on the wound that shattered the heart, even the wounds that shattered Jesus’ body, but behind all the pain is God’s intentionality. We are wounded, we are suffering, we are victim and perpetrator, but we can all be redeemed. We can all enter the Kingdom. Jesus knew all humanity’s cruelty and selfishness—and died for us anyway.
That is where Lent is headed, where Lent has always been headed: to the cross. The world is just making it a major point, this week, to remind us of that.
Blessings,
Sr Kathryn
God at the Center: Guest Post
I want to talk about a journey, our journey to God. In some ways, that’s what Lent is: a journey through 40 days of anticipation to the cross and then through to the resurrection.
In the early Middle Ages Christians were encouraged to make a special journey, a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. One of the reasons for the Crusades was to protect pilgrims. But most people didn’t have the means or the ability to make such a difficult journey, and so a substitute had to be found.
That substitute was the labyrinth.
In 325 A.D. Christians placed a labyrinth on the floor of their church. Although Christians must have been using the labyrinth earlier, this is the first historical record we have of the Christian use of the labyrinth. Since that time labyrinths have been prayed, studied, danced, traced and drawn as Christians sought to use this spiritual tool to draw closer to God.
Using a labyrinth involves moving one’s body and opening one’s heart to Jesus. All you
have to do is follow the path and you will find the center. A “typical” labyrinth experience involves preparing oneself at the threshold, following the single path to the center, spending time in the center, following the same pathway out the threshold, and then responding to the experience.
Maze or Labyrinth?
We often use the words “maze” and “labyrinth” to mean the same thing, but they’re very different. A maze is a puzzle filled with dead ends, with the idea you’ll get lost a few times; a labyrinth has one circuitous path that brings you unerringly to the center.
A labyrinth is the ideal metaphor for our journey. It presents a long, sometimes frustrating path but if we stay on it, if we persevere, we reach the center. We reach God.
Why do it now? Just as on Monday we talked about incorporating fasting into our spiritual lives, so too can we incorporate labyrinth prayers into our prayer lives.
There are many ways to pray with a labyrinth. We’ll talk about them after the video.
Even if you don’t live near a full-sized labyrinth, you can still use one for prayer by simply printing it out on paper:
You probably can think of ways you can use this design in prayer. I’ll suggest a few more:
1) Ask God a question as you enter the path. Then, as you walk slowly through the twists and turns, listen for an answer. Let your steps and your silence invite the presence and guidance of God.
2) Start your journey to the center with confession (you may want to visualize your sins being left behind with every step you take). When you reach the center, journey out with affirmation (perhaps visualizing yourself picking things up or putting things on–like the righteousness of Christ, the smile of the Father, the purity of the Holy Spirit, etc.). Pause at the exit and give thanks for your cleansing journey.
3) Recite a breath prayer as you navigate the labyrinth, perhaps praying a different prayer on each leg or quadrant of your journey. (Breath prayers are short phrases that lend themselves to repetition: Lord, have mercy. When I am afraid, I trust you. Not my will, but yours. Say the word. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Holy Wisdom, guide me.)
4) Lay down your burdens as you walk to the center of the labyrinth (perhaps marking your labyrinth with the symbols of what you’re letting go). In the center, pause to thank God for taking your burdens on himself. Then count your blessings and give thanks on the journey to the exit.
The word “labyrinth” isn’t anywhere in the Bible, but themes of following God’s way,
spiritual journeys, and enjoying God’s presence—all central to labyrinth experiences—are throughout Scripture. Two additional verses that can be used while praying the labyrinth are, “You show me the path of life. In your presence there is fullness of joy”
(Psalm 16:11), and Jesus’ words, “I am the way, the truth and the life…” (John 14:16).
Has anyone here ever had an experience with a labyrinth? Is it something you might like to try?
by Jeannette de Beauvoir
Image Credit: Bas Gerring at Pexels
Come to me all who are weary: A Caregiver’s Prayer
In a night’s vigil of adoration in the shadow of the Eucharist, a sixteen year old seminarian was drawn into the silence. Into the invitation of God. Face to face. Heart to heart. The humbled awe of being seen, of being small in a divine plan still shrouded in mystery. The gratefulness at being known. Being called.
On the eve of 1901, this Eucharistic vigil changed the young seminarian James Alberione forever and gave birth to consecrated lives of thousands of women and men in the Pauline Family who would hear through him what he received that night from the Lord: “Come to me.” It was not just a Bible verse, but the cry of Jesus who silently extends his hands and opens his heart to the whole world every day and every night from every Tabernacle of the world.
“Come to me all who are weary.” The century that followed that call from the Eucharistic heart to James Alberione would be exhausting, a century bathed in the blood of the fallen in two World Wars and confused by the cacophony of voices claiming that truth was on their side.
“Come to me all who are heavy burdened.” It is the call of Jesus from the tabernacle to us today in a pandemic-stricken world, strangely now one in its search for wholeness and relief.
It is Christ’s invitation from the sanctuaries where he silently sorrows that so many walk by or walk away.
“Come to me.” Feel within yourself the sadness of the Lord who longs to wash away what troubles us and cheer us with his kindness. This Lent his heart longs for us more than we long for him. He hears and knows and sees us, even when our attention is elsewhere.
This Lent, Jesus knows the burdens you carry, the way of the passion that you walk and he doesn’t want you to walk alone. He sees you. He invites you into his divine and mysterious plan.
“Come to me.” Whatever are the tears that run down your cheeks, or those perhaps held unshed in the secret of your heart, go to him. Jesus is calling you from the Tabernacle and from the inner sanctuary of your own heart.
“I am here. Come to me. Tell me what you need.”
We just celebrated National Caregivers’ Day. How many of us have become caregivers, a heart-giving ministry of love for months or years that slip by uncounted, measured only by the sighs, the renewed energy to be there for another, the sleepless nights, the worries across the miles, the tears, the passion, His passion.
This Lent, Jesus knows the burdens you carry, the way of the passion that you walk and he doesn’t want you to walk alone. He sees you.
This past year how many caregivers have not been able to be near loved ones in order to care for them! This isolation and surrender too is the way of the passion, our hearts burdened with love as is the heart of Jesus. “Come to me and I will give you rest.”
This Lent, may our care for others resemble the care Jesus longs to give each person. Let us invite others with open arms to come and find rest in our presence, that they may discover his presence. May they feel heard. May they know they are seen. May they know they never walk alone, that through our hearing and seeing and walking they may find true rest for their souls.
To all who give care, blessed be God in the gifts he has given you and that you share with others.
Sr. Kathryn J. Hermes, FSP - We just accompanied one of our sisters, as her caregiver in the last couple weeks of her life. This is the book that helps us sisters every time: Midwife for Souls, by Kathy Kalina. Caregiving can be easier when it comes to the practical things of what to do. We can learn those. But we often don't have a teacher for the spiritual wisdom that we want to be a part of this caregiving journey for both ourselves and the one we are caring for. Kathy offers years of qualified experience and spiritual wisdom that will inform and comfort caregivers and loved ones. This book provides insight, showing how the support of one s Catholic faith and the power of prayer can be a guide in ministering to a dying person. This book is essential reading for anyone who accompanies others to the edge of life and helps in their birthing to eternal life.
A Consoling Word: He Goes Ahead of You (Mt 28:5-7)
The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is…
God Just Wants You (Luke 18:14)
“All who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.” (Luke 18:14) It’s a phrase that’s made its way into everyday wisdom—even outside of religious settings. We say things like: “Pride comes before a fall.”“What goes up must come down.”“The higher you climb, the harder you fall.”“Empty vessels make the…
How to imitate the very love of God (Matthew 5:43-45)
“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends…
Caregivers give the only life they have
When I was a postulant in St. Louis, I noticed during the Eucharist at the time of intercessions at one particular parish, one parishioner would always ask help for caregivers. This happened every time, and so one day when I didn’t hear him, I immediately noticed he wasn’t there. I remember his practice as a continual reminder, not only of the importance of this mission of caring for others, but also that it isn’t possible to give our lives for our brothers and sisters without the grace of God.
When our first parents disobeyed God, the question he asked them was: Where are you? In the moment humanity broke relationship with God, the consequences of original sin began to influence their destinies; but even then God himself was always looking for us. We see it in the question he asked Cain: Where is your brother? And in these two questions we are touched by the eternal movement of the Father’s love, which always seeks us—and finds us, so we can also find our brothers and sisters.
“Where is your brother?” This reminds me of two sisters in my community in Portugal, blood sisters as well as sisters in religious life. The elder one has been extremely sick for a number of years and her care has fallen to the younger of the two, who has certainly brought her back from the brink several times through her extraordinary care.
None of us has reservoirs of life we can spare. Caring for someone is giving the only life we have—our own. When my caregiver sister gives her life, it comes with an immense personal sacrifice, with tiredness and pain (because she is not young, either), with giving up many things that she’d like to be doing in the apostolate and in community life. But she does it anyway, and does it every day!
This summarizes the immense beauty of caregivers—and also the immense weight of their mission. How many times do these people reach the end of the day and feel they gave their lives, up to the last breath? But also how beautiful is this mystery of life we receive from those we care for, because God dwells in each of us and he enables us to receive and give life until the last moment of our own lives.
The disciple is no greater than the Master. Jesus our Divine Savior gave his life for us, up to the last drop of his blood, to make us children of God, children of the same merciful Father. With the awareness that we are all sisters and brothers, let’s ask him every day to breathe his divine life into each one of us, so that in the different situations of our lives we can continue to look for our brothers and sisters in need, and give our lives for them until the end.
Sr Marta Gaspar
Photo by Gustavo Fring from Pexels
Touching the Sunrise 