Mighty Deeds

"Jesus said to them, “A prophet is not without honor except in his native place and among his own kin and in his own house.”   So he was not able to perform any mighty deed there, apart from curing a few sick people by laying his hands on them.  He was amazed at their lack of faith." ~from Mark 6:1-6

I'm so grateful for the opportunity to attend daily Mass on my lunch break.  Those thirty minutes of prayer in the midst of sharing bits and pieces of my client's lives at the clinic where I work helps me to cope with the stories I hear that are sad, stressful and difficult. And those thirty minutes of prayer allow me to deeply thank God when the stories I hear are happy, miraculous and joyful.

At a recent noon Mass, during his homily, Fr. Matt Walsh, SJ, spoke about Mark's  Gospel passage regarding the lack of welcome that Jesus received in His hometown.  He asked, "What could it possibly mean that Jesus wasn't able to perform any mighty deed apart from curing a few sick?  Wasn't curing a few sick considered a mighty deed?"   Fr. Matt explained that the mighty deeds that Jesus had wanted to perform weren't pertaining to the curing of the sick but rather to the increasing of faith in the people of his home town.  These people knew Jesus from His earliest days and they could not accept the fact that He was the Son of God.  They couldn't believe.

I reflected upon this as I prayed for the clients I had seen in my office that morning and for those that I would see in the afternoon to come.  So many of the women I see live lives of deep faith and trust, never really knowing where their next meal will come from, or waiting long hours for transportation while their restless children run and play in cold hallways, fearlessly fleeing from far-away countries for the promise of a better life in America where everything, including the language and the food, is strange to them, struggling to break free from abusive relationships and create a new life for themselves, selflessly giving their babies up for adoption, trusting that a stranger can promise a better life for the little ones that grow within their wombs.  Don't all of these situations require lives of faith and trust in a God who can bring good out of a seemingly hopeless situation?  

And how do I fit into the scenario of faith?  Perhaps I am more like those hometown residents of Jesus than I would care to admit.  Even when I am witness to stories of hope and faith through the course of my workday, when I see God performing miracles of love in lives that are extremely difficult, I fail to put my full trust in the Lord and believe that He will continue to carry me forward to a beautiful life abandoned completely to His love.  Too often I act as though all of the problems I encounter can be resolved through my own actions.  I dig my heels in and stubbornly resist God's plans for my life, rather than believing that with God all things are possible, even my own sanctity.

I do believe, Lord.  Help my unbelief.  Don't turn your back on my lack of faith but open my heart to  Your ability and desire to perform mighty deeds within my soul.  Amen.

The Fragments

"Even if you aren't good, God will love you into goodness, if you allow it.  And God will love you into generosity, and He will love you into honesty, if you open your heart to Him."  ~Bishop Richard Sklba

Retired Auxiliary Bishop Sklba

At Old St. Mary Parish we are blessed to pray with retired auxiliary Bishop Richard Sklba two mornings each week at daily Mass and on some Sunday mornings as well.  My family has come to love him and my children often comment that they think it would be great if he were a grandfather to them.  His gentle, quiet style makes for peaceful prayer and he never fails to leave his homily listeners with a nugget or two of wisdom that can draw us closer to the Lord.

On a  recent Sunday morning when the Gospel reading was about the loaves and the fishes (Matthew 13:14-21), Bishop Sklba shared a story about a now-deceased Carmelite Sister at the Carmel of the Mother of God in Pewaukee, Wisconsin, who had written a poem called The Leftovers, and dedicated it to him.  I immediately lit up with excitement knowing that he was speaking about one of my favorite poets, Sister Miriam of the Holy Spirit, also known as Jessica Powers.

Although I have read quite a bit of Jessica Powers' poetry, I could not recall reading The Leftovers.   I was unable to find it online so I finally broke down and purchased every book of hers that I could find. I am so glad to have made those purchases because I will be relishing her poetry over and over again for years to come.  The Leftovers, copied below, has much food for thought, pardon the pun.  I especially love the last line, "the fragments, too, were miracles of love."

Jessica Powers-
Sr. Mirian of the Holy Spirit

The Leftovers by Jessica Powers

With twenty loaves of bread Elisha fed
the one hundred till they were satisfied,
and scripture tells us there was bread left over.
Jesus did more:  with five small barley loaves
and two dried fish he fed five thousand men,
together with their wives and children, all
neatly arranged upon the cushioned grass.
The awed disciples, when the crowd had eaten,
gathered up what was left:  twelve baskets full.

Who then received these fragments?  Hopefully,
the least (though not less favored) and the poor.
I think of those who always seem to get
the leavings from the banqueting of others,
the scraps of bread, of life, that goodness saves.
I pray that they come proudly when invited,
make merry at their meal, and have their fill,
and rise up thankfully, remembering
the fragments, too, were miracles of love.

How often do we find ourselves getting by on fragments-cleaning out the last bit of food in the refrigerator before shopping for more, wearing an old pair of threadbare socks before finding and taking the time to do the laundry, scrounging around in our wallets to find the last dollar to give to our children for bus fare or school lunch, running out of energy and dozing off while reading a bedtime story to a toddler; giving the very last of who we are and what we have in service to the Lord and to others.  We use our resources and our very selves completely in our efforts to follow the Gospel.  Very often the ordinary moments of our entire lives are the fragments that God uses to reveal His love. And we ourselves are fragments when we are tired, hungry, over-worked, and low on funds.  We are miracles of God's love, each and every one of us, miracles meant to bring His deep love that dwells within our souls to the world around us, sharing all that we have, even though it might not be very much, with one another, so that all might know His love.

source

Profess Courage

"Courage daughter!  Your faith has saved you!"  ~Matthew 9:22

"Do not panic, but look to Christ."  ~St. Francis de Sales

"Be not afraid."  ~Pope St. John Paul II

"Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for You are with me."  ~Psalm 23

You are not powerless.

Fear is powerless.

Fear was crucified-

crowned and pierced

by the blackest of sins.

But our God rose above

the pounding of the heart

the sweating of the palms

and the terror of the imagination.

He faced fear head-on

and conquered it.

And now He holds your hand

and gently guides you

as you face your own fears.

What is there to fear?

Put your trust in Him, child of God.
Kick the shackles of fear aside
and profess courage.

Look deep inside and find

His strength thriving within your soul.

Believe in His love for you

and live.

The Fullness of Time

 "But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman." ~Galatians 4:4

source:  google images

She was

swollen with hope

ripe with Love

abundant with grace

saturated with trust

complete with life

full of time

His time

His eternal

never-ending

always there

abiding, enduring, everlasting 

past, present and future

timeless time

He entered

through Her

for us

and we, too, 

are forever timeless

through His grace and with her yes

we exist

in the fullness of time

Fragments

"He ordered the crowd to sit down on the ground. Then he took the seven loaves and the fish, gave thanks, broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, who in turn gave them to the crowds. They all ate and were satisfied.  They picked up the fragments left over–seven baskets full."  
 ~from Matthew 15: 29-37

source

Do you ever feel like a fragment; like the left over piece, not completely whole, not quite good enough, standing on the sidelines while the world passes you by, of no use to anyone?  I think at many points in our lives we can say that this sad description fits us quite well.  No one is immune to feeling left out at one time or another.  Consider the last player picked for a team, the employee passed over for a promotion, the youngest child who must stay home while the older siblings enjoy a special night out.  We long to be considered the first choice and the cream of the crop, to be included, but sometimes we must wait in patience for our turn to shine.

A fragment, according to the Merriam Webster dictionary, is an "incomplete part."  And of course, we are all incomplete parts of the Body of Christ, waiting for the day when we will be united to Christ's love for all eternity and will become fully whole.   In the above scripture passage, there were so many fragments left behind, that someone bothered to collect them and save them for use at another time, they weren't simply discarded as useless.  They were to be cherished as something to look forward to enjoying at another time, when hunger would strike once again.  And beyond this, we are told that there were so many fragments left that they filled seven baskets, seven being a perfect number.

So if you're feeling a bit cast-off or picked over don't dismay!  God is saving the best for last!  He wills that no part of His body, for we are all the body of Christ,  be lost. When your turn finally comes to shine for the Kingdom, you will be the perfect fit at the perfect time.  Hold fast to your faith and trust in the Lord.  In His time, you will be the favored portion.

My dearest Lord,

I rejoice in your faithfulness!  You never fail to amaze me.  Just when I'm feeling down and out, less than worthy, unneeded and unwanted, You reveal your desire and Your plan for me.  You let me know that I am loved, wanted and needed beyond my imaginings.  You draw me close to Your heart and whisper words of encouragement to my weary soul.  Thank you so much for your steadfast and faithful love!   Thank you for showering myriads of blessings upon me and upon all those who are feeling fragmented in this life.  What a joy it is to belong to You!

Amen.

Peter's Love: A Guest Post by Dawn Meyer

Enjoy this uplifting reflection on today's Gospel written by my friend, Dawn Meyer. 

This Sunday's Gospel gives us Peter, at the Sea of Tiberius, after Jesus' death and Resurrection.  (For the whole Gospel, read John 21:1-19. )

Peter's back in his boat, letting his net fall into the water.  He realizes that he "wasn't in his boat because he wanted to go fish, but because he wanted Jesus.  One day he had encountered the Master while casting his nets, he had encountered him in this same boat, doing the things he was doing now.  He now realized that he could do nothing, experience nothing without desiring that Jesus be present with him, in his midst..."  (Dom Maura Giuseppe Lepori, abbot general of the Cistercian Order, excerpt taken from Magnificat)

Where do we, like Peter, search for Jesus?  Knowing that we can do nothing without Him, where do we go to find Him, while we're here on earth?  Do you seek Him in the sacraments, where He fills us with His grace and love?  Do you seek Him in Adoration, in the silence of your heart, in front of the Blessed Sacrament?  Or do you seek Him in the warm embrace you share with a loved one or a friend?  Do you seek Him in the smile you give to the stranger passing by?  Do you seek Him in your daily life, at the grocery store, while you're pumping gas into the car, or when you're taking out the garbage?  He's in our midst, in the mundane and in the sublime.  He's there.  Just like He was there for Peter, when Peter desired to be with Jesus so much that he got into his boat to fish, hoping to find the Lord. 

After Peter sat in his boat all night, catching zip, not even one fish, who does he see standing on the shore when daylight breaks? Jesus!  The Lord tells the Apostles to cast their nets over the right side of the boat and after they obediently do so, the net is so full of fish they can't even pull it back up! 

Jesus knew they needed Him.  He knew Peter missed Him.  He knew that they needed to be nourished, not just physically with the fish, but they needed His presence, His Divine Love, to nourish and strengthen their souls so that they could carry out the mission He gave them... go out and proclaim the Gospel!  And so it is with us.  WE need to be nourished by Jesus' Divine presence, by His Body and Blood, by His grace freely given in the sacraments.  WE need all the Love that He gives us through the sacraments, but especially through the Eucharist, so that we, like the Apostles, can share that Love with those around us and transform the world! 

One more thing.  After the Apostles finish eating breakfast with Jesus, after He nourishes them with His Divine Presence, He longs to hear what Peter holds in his heart.  He asks Peter: "Simon, Son of John, do you love me?"

"Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." (Was he thinking, "Lord, I love you so much, I went out in my boat in the middle of the night, not to fish, but just to feel close to you!"?) 

We know what happens next.  Jesus asks Peter the same question twice more and Peter answers the same way..."Yes, Lord, you know everything, you know that I love you."  Jesus thirsts for Peter's love!  

And doesn't He also thirst for your love?

After He gives Himself to you in Holy Communion, He longs to hear you proclaim your love for Him, just as He longed to hear Peter express his love for Him.  When we kneel after receiving Jesus, we can silently proclaim our love for Him who now dwells in us:  "I love you, Lord.  Thank you for staying with me, thank you for imprisoning Yourself in the Eucharist for me and nourishing me with Your infinite Love!"  He wants us to lavish our love, the love that He gives us first, on Him! 

Peter's story is our story.  Aren't we just like Peter, waiting in the boat, searching for Jesus?  We long to be with Jesus.  We long to feel His love.  And in His goodness, Jesus is waiting for us on the shores of our lives.  He comes to us and nourishes us with His Divine Presence, with His love, each and every time we receive Him in Holy Communion.  And just like Peter, we realize that once Jesus is present in our lives, united in love with us....we can do anything.  "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Phil 4:13

Bands of Love

"I drew them with human cords, with bands of love;  I fostered them like one who raises an infant to his cheeks."  ~from Hosea 11:1-4

While I was pregnant with my daughter Mary, an ultrasound showed that there were amniotic bands in my uterus.  Amniotic bands are pieces of uterine wall that have broken free from the lining and float in the amniotic fluid.  They are a threat to the growing baby because as the baby moves around in the fluid, the bands can wrap around the baby's limbs or neck and cut off the limbs or strangle the growing child.  My sisters and I called an emergency rosary and we gathered in fervent prayer.  When I went back to the doctor for a follow-up ultrasound, all of the bands had disappeared.  The doctor felt that they had either never been there to begin with, and the first ultrasound was misread, or the bands had re-attached themselves to the uterine wall.  Either way, it was a miracle and we offered praise and thanks to God for blessing our family with a perfect and beautiful baby girl eleven years ago.

But after reading today's first reading, I thought of those amniotic bands a little differently.  I thought that maybe those bands were God's way of reaching out to my daughter.  Of course He loved her with His infinite fatherly love and maybe He wanted so desperately to touch her that He was reaching out to her while she was still in utero.  But the prayers of my family held off His touch and He had to wait to hold her through the arms of Paul and I after she was born.  Our arms are the human cords, the bands of God's love.

Now Mary is a wonderful and well-loved daughter.  Not a day goes by that Paul and I aren't holding her and telling her how much we love her and thanking her for being such a constant joy to our days.  (OK-full disclosure:  She doesn't hear about our love and gratitude when she is singing Justin Bieber songs at the top of her lungs.  Of course we still do love her despite the volume of her voice and the choice of musicians she admires-we just don't express it very well at those moments.  She wouldn't be able to hear us anyway!)

God loves all of us like that; He can hardly stand to let a minute go by without wrapping us in His loving embrace.  He gives us friends and family to reach out to us and hold us in their arms and to whisper kind words of love and care to our hearts.  How important it is for all of us to be the bands of God's love for one another, to lift each other's spirits like an infant to our cheeks-so tenderly and with the greatest of care.

Yesterday, I posted some links to a wonderfully uplifting blog by Meg, a young girl with a gift for reaching out to others with human cords of encouragement, and her post You Are a Princess, was along these very same lines; it was a reminder that God loves each of us exactly how we are, we are His beloved daughters (and sons!)  But sometimes we need to hear that message of God's love more than once, at least, I often do!  Today God sent me another message of His deep and abiding love through the words of Bishop Donald Hying's column published in the July 12th Milwaukee Catholic Herald.  Read it and know that you, too, are loved by God, your adoptive father, who only wants you to know that He will love you forever and always and will never let you go.  He holds you in his bands of love and He always will.

Adopted Sons and Daughters of God by Bishop Donald Hying

One of the astonishing truths of our faith which can keep us grounded and joyful through the hardest times is our divine filiation or spiritual adoption in Jesus Christ. Let me explain.

As Christians, we believe that in Jesus Christ – his life, death and resurrection – we receive a new identity, initiated at baptism, by which we enter into the very life of the Blessed Trinity as sons and daughters of the Father. The Sonship which Jesus enjoys in relation to the Father and Holy Spirit is graciously shared with us.

In multiple places in his epistles, e.g., Romans 8, Galatians 4 and Ephesians 1, St. Paul articulates his understanding of spiritual adoption. On a mystical level, Paul came to believe that the Christ event fundamentally changed humanity’s relationship to God. Jesus gains for us the forgiveness of sins, the promise of eternal salvation and a new intimacy with God, sprung from our filial relationship with the Father.

Jesus loves us so much that he shares his total self, even his divine relationships. Clinging to nothing as his own, Jesus opens up his own relation to the Father to us. What he is by nature, we become through divine adoption. In baptism, we can call God “Abba” just as Jesus does, because we are sons and daughters of the Father, brothers and sisters of Jesus, temples of the Holy Spirit. One gets the sense in Paul’s writings that he never got over the amazing graciousness of this divine filiation.

As St. John says, we are children of God, baptized into the priesthood of Jesus Christ, anointed by the Holy Spirit, created for love, destined to live forever. When we fall into sin or despair, we suffer from temporary amnesia; we have forgotten who we are.

I know this probably sounds crazy, but when I am walking through an airport or sitting on a subway, I feel the urge to go up to people and ask them if they know they are children of God. Maybe they do, but oftentimes it seems we have lost our way, as we painfully see the violence, poverty, hatred and disregard for human life that daily wracks our planet.

When we know our identity in Christ and our divine purpose, we can do all things through the One who strengthens us. Our lives matter and what we do in this life has eternal implications.

All of us struggle to authentically love ourselves. I know people who almost despise themselves, so often because they were not loved and nurtured as children. When we wholeheartedly embrace our identity as children of God, we can ground our self-esteem in the love of the Father. Then it doesn’t matter so much what other people think of us, or even what we think of ourselves.

The greatest truth is that God finds us loveable and good. I find the greatest antidote to self-hatred, despair, fear, anger and self-pity to be a solid meditation on spiritual adoption.

When the saints experienced the extraordinary love of God, they came to know themselves, the deep and real “soul” of their human nature, as a daughter or son of the Father, loved and created to love. When Paul experienced Jesus on the road to Damascus, when Francis of Assisi kissed a leper, when Augustine heard Ambrose preaching, when Therese of Lisieux read I Corinthians, when Edith Stein observed a stranger at prayer, when Mother Teresa picked up her first dying person, an explosion of divine love occurred which changed them forever.

The extraordinary deeds of the saints are grounded in their self-understanding as children of God.

Try meditating every day for several minutes on who you are in Jesus Christ. Go to the index of the Catechism of the Catholic Church and look up the passages on adoption in Christ. When I do this, I find peace, patience with others and myself, a deeper ability to forgive, a greater capacity to see the bigger picture; I find it easier to love others because they are children of God as well.

In heaven, we will all be walking around more radiant than the sun, filled with the glory of God, free of sin, conflict and division. So why do we need to wait until then to live out our identity as beloved children of the Father? Let’s go live it now!

The Upper Room

While the early morning sun rises over the lake, casting pink and blue shadows across the sky, a small group of friends gather in a cozy little chapel hidden away in the heart of the city, to offer the sacrifice of the Mass. We listen to the stories of the early Church in this Octave of Easter and my imagination carries me back to that long ago place and time. In my heart our intimate gathering of prayer and devotion is really taking place in that upper room where the disciples of Christ first gathered in fear and trembling which turned to amazement at the sight of the Lord in their midst. The host is raised and my heart cries out "It is the Lord!" (John 21:7) Like the disciples, I, too, am incredulous for joy. (Luke 24:41) He speaks to me and says "Come, have breakfast" (John 21:12) and I partake of His body and blood.

Oh Lord, make my heart an upper room where You appear and hold dominion. Fill me with Your grace so that, like the first apostles, I may carry Your presence in my heart, sharing You with all those I meet throughout the course of the day, filling the world with Your love and peace. Amen.

The Ref

"They were utterly amazed at what he taught, because his message was spoken with authority." ~Luke 4:32






















My family spends a great deal of time watching middle school and high school basketball this time of year as several of the Bender children play for the school and our church and the ones who aren't playing enjoying cheering on the sidelines during their sibling's games.

With all of the games that we watch, it's no surprise that we have become fond of several referees who have an especially good eye during the game, making expert calls and keeping joyful attitudes despite the stress of keeping players, coaches and fans happy.

My very favorite ref is a big, burly, older man who is all stomach and smiles. He not only refs the games, but he practically coaches them as well, giving the players tips on skills that will improve their games and reminding them to bend their knees when they are at the free-throw line. When he blows his whistle and makes a call he puts his whole body into it, slapping his arm to show exactly where the foul occurred and and motioning with his arms as well as with his feet to show traveling and double-dribble calls. He clearly puts his entire self into his work. I love a ref that entertains like this particular man does; he makes watching multiple and repetitive basketball games quite enjoyable.

So at one of my daughter's recent games where he was the ref, I couldn't help but recall last Sunday's gospel reading where it was noted that Jesus spoke with authority. This ref, too, spoke with authority and everyone present at the game payed close attention to his words and willingly abided by his calls without complaint. When I mentioned this to my husband and sons who were watching the game with me their collective groans were almost louder than the sounds of the game, for they have heard my reflective gospel musings far too often at events where most people would be hard put to find the presence of God. One of my sons was quick to call a foul on me by complaining, "Mom! This is a basketball game, it is not Church!"

But still, how could I not make the comparison to Christ? For in this ref's words and actions it was so easy to notice a holy presence. He clearly spread the gospel messages of kindness, joy and diligence through his words and actions. And couldn't we all take a tip of the ball from a ref who speaks with such authority? Shouldn't we all strive for the goal of making every word and action in our lives bring a little more of the authority of the word of Christ to life for those who are in our presence? And if we work hard and are successful at accomplishing this feat in the world, then when the day arrives when we meet the ultimate scorekeeper in heaven we can proudly say with St. Paul, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith."
~2 Timothy 4:7

Woman, Behold Your Son

"Woman, behold your son." ~John 19:26

That was the scriptural prayer that I held in my heart on the feast of St. John the Evangelist as I stood for 90 minutes at the bedside of my son, Joe, while he was in recovery from surgery. Joe, whose illness I wrote about briefly in my recent posts, Kneeling in the Manger and Lullaby Revisited, was suffering horrific pain from a large, infected lymph node in his neck that required surgery to drain the infection.

Joe asked to put off the surgery so that he could spend Christmas at home with his family, but on Monday morning, the day after Christmas, Joe came to me as soon as he awoke in the morning and said, "I'm ready. Let's go to the hospital." By Tuesday afternoon at 3 PM, providentially at the Hour of Divine Mercy, Joe was in surgery to have the infected lymph node that was behind his neck muscle drained of the infection that was the source of his suffering. Every surgery has possible complications associated with it and Joe's surgery was no exception, as the lymph node was so swollen and large at about 6 cm. in length, that it was pressing on an artery that led to his brain and it was possible that the artery was also infected.

There are times in your life when you can truly "feel" the prayers of others, and this was one of them. Promises of prayer came soaring in from friends and family and although we were all stressed and worried, my family had never before felt more loved and more protected by God than at any other time we can recall. The morning of the surgery we were visited by two priests who both performed the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick for Joe, and another priest who came to pray with us after the surgery was over. A quick visit from some dear friends brought cheer just a few hours before the surgery and then, after the surgery began, more friends arrived to keep watch with us and to distract us from our worries with lively conversation during the long 90 minute wait until the surgery was successfully completed and Joe was sent to recovery.

By 4:30 PM, I was allowed to go to Joe's bedside where I remained, standing, for the next 90 minutes until he was recovered enough to return to his room. During those 90minutes, he was continuously given morphine for his pain until he could tolerate it and popsicles to soothe his dry and aching throat. By his third popsicle, Joe was all smiles.

As I stood by his side, I thought about the fact that the surgery occurred on the Feast of St. John the Evangelist and I pictured St. John and the Blessed Mother at the foot of the cross and Jesus telling his mother, "Woman, behold your son." In my heart I knew that He was speaking those words to me now. And I beheld my beautiful, brave and wonderful son suffering the most misery he had ever known, yet I felt peace. On the day of the crucifixion, there was no peace for the Blessed Mother as she listened to the jeers of the taunting crowd and solders while witnessing her Son's suffering in the surroundings of hate. But here, at my son's bedside, as Joe suffered with his own cross, we were only surrounded by love and goodness and it felt as if all of our friends and family who supported and prayed for us were truly living the gospel message, the famous words frequently spoken by St. John the Evangelist, "Love one another."

Joe remains in the hospital until the type of infection can be determined so that the appropriate antibiotic can be prescribed, and although he remains in much pain, he knows that he is loved and that is the best medicine by far! And I thank you, dear reader, for your loving prayers as well!

Rend the Heavens

"Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down!"
Isaiah 64:1














I've been a lector for the past four years and with a prayer to the Holy Spirit before I approach the ambo to proclaim His word, I usually do just fine. But every once in a while the power of a passage fills my heart and soul and gets stuck in my throat. My nerves are overcome and my voice quakes as if it were the first time I'd ever attempted to read His holy words. Today was such a day. I wanted to stop right at that powerful passage and cry out with Isaiah...

Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down!
Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down!

A teenage boy leaves home with a pocket full of money
and wanders the streets all weekend
going from house to house looking for shelter
and a hot shower and a warm meal.
Where is the love of his mother?
Invited to participate in Mass, he asks,
"What is Mass?"

Rend the heavens!

A parish struggles under budgetary constraints
brought on by empty pews and empty hearts
and considers letting a priest go,
considers making do with less prayerful leadership,
less lifting up of God in worship,
in favor of more buildings.

Rend the heavens!

Young boys want to start a basketball team
and the priest rightly asks
"Why should I let you use my gym
when I never see you at Mass and
you aren't enrolled in Confirmation classes?"
We want the Church to serve us but
we fail to serve the Church.

Rend the heavens!

Babies are born to unwed teenage mothers
who barely know how to care for themselves
much less a new young life,
and mother and child cry together
for want of basic necessities and for love.

Rend the heavens!

These are dark days, O Lord.
Our hearts yearn for you
although we hardly allow
ourselves to know it
and we disguise our need behind
a false set of wants and a false sense of self.

Rend the heavens, O Lord, and come down!
Fill our hearts with a deep love for You.
End our misery, our poverty, our want,
and our spiritual starvation.
Show us that with You at our side
nothing else matters,
You are all we need.

O that you would rend the heavens and come down!
O that you would rend the heavens and come down!

My Neighbor

"You shall love the Lord, your God,with all your heart,with all your being,with all your strength,and with all your mind,and your neighbor as yourself." Luke 10:27

Looking back to the weekend just past, my time was filled with fun and meaningful events like attending the Rector's Dinner, the largest fund-raiser for St. Francis de Sales Seminary, going to a wine tasting with my husband and his sister, cheering on my daughter at her double-header volleyball games and standing witness with my parish at the Life Chain.

But by far, the highlight of the weekend was a special little trip that my oldest son John and I made on Sunday evening. John and Justin both work at a nearby nursing home in the dietary department. They love to share stories about the people who live there, and our family almost feels as if we know the sweet residents of the nursing home after hearing so many wonderful tales.

One woman, in particular, seems to be the topic of discussion at our home quite a bit. H. lives in the independent apartments that are attached to the nursing home. Poor H. seems to be ready for assisted living as her memory is quite poor and the boys often say that she is poorly cared for, and on top of that, many of the other nursing home residents dislike her and criticize her for her memory loss.

The independents are allowed to come to the dining room for dinner during the week, but on weekends the food served at the nursing home is for the assisted care residents only. (I don't understand that rule, do you?) It seems that on both Saturday and Sunday she came down to the dining room looking for food and the staff had to send her away because it was a weekend. John was especially heartbroken when he came home from work on Sunday afternoon and he told us that once again H. was looking for food, complaining about how hungry she was, but the staff had to send her back to her apartment or they could get in trouble for breaking the rules and feeding her. (Time to change that rule, don't you agree?) John overheard one of the nursing assistant's say that H. didn't have any food in her apartment. H.'s only son lives out of state, so she is all alone with no one to care for her.

On Sundays I always like to make a big family dinner, and since my husband has taken a second job and had to work and my daughter was eating dinner at a friend's house, we had lots of food left over. So, John and I made up a plate of dinner and packed up a bag of groceries and took it to H. at her apartment. John's description of her was quite accurate; she was incredibly sweet but also noticeably forgetful. She recognized John but didn't remember his name. She asked me if I was his girlfriend and when I told her that I was his mom she so kindly told me that I don't look old enough to be his mother. I immediately fell in love with her after that! When I told her my name she mentioned that Anne is her favorite name. Then, five minutes later, she asked "What was your name again?"

When we offered her the dinner, she mentioned that she did eat dinner already so we put the dinner and groceries in her nearly empty refrigerator, said goodbye, and went downstairs for a tour of the kitchen. One of the girls who was doing the dishes told us that H. did come down for dinner once again and she didn't care if she got in trouble or not, she gave H. a bowl of chili. (Good girl!) It did my heart good to know that there were staff members there who would risk getting "in trouble" at work to assure that a hungry 94-year-old woman had some nutritious food in her stomach.

Six blocks from my home a sweet little woman lives all alone in a world that often mistreats her for her mental capacity. During this month dedicated to respecting life I will remember that woman who is only six short blocks from my home. She is my neighbor and I will strive to love her as I love myself.

Rebellion

"It is my wish, then, that in every place the men should pray, lifting up holy hands, without anger or argument." 1 Timothy 2:8

This morning at Mass I stood at the ambo proclaiming the first reading from 1 Timothy 2:1-8, and I was distracted and dismayed by the fact that someone had rebelliously taken a pencil and crossed out some of the words in the very last line of the scripture and wrote politically correct terminology above them. Had I followed the suggested change, I would have read "all" instead of "the men." I stuck to the original text, a bit disturbed that the lectionary of holy words had been tampered with. Maybe to some, I would have been seen as the rebellious one for following the words as they originally appeared.

It got me thinking, though, about the nature of rebellion and how we all go through it at one point or another, don't we? At some point, we believe that we are indisputably right and justified in our behavior, in turning our backs against tradition and the status quo, against rules and regulations, in favor of going our own way, however misguided that way may be.

I was recently approached by a young man who called me by name and began to visit with me. I had no idea who he was. Too embarrassed to admit the fact that I didn't know him, I tried to tease his identity out of him with various statements and questions such as:

"Wow! You look great! I wouldn't have recognized you!"
"Where are you going to school now?"
"Do you play football? Basketball?"

No luck. I still couldn't place him. To my great fortune he asked me about one of my sons. Finally, a clue!!! And then I remembered seeing his mother a bit earlier and realized that his was her son and I was able to converse easily with him.

Later that night at the dinner table, I shared this story with my family and mentioned what a fine young man this boy appeared to be. My sons just shook their heads in dismay at my words and they conveyed to me that this "fine young man" was well known these days for his use of drugs.

It's so sad to me that more and more often our dinner table discussions revolve around my son's former grade school friends who have succumbed to a life of partying which includes drugs, alcohol and sex, and stories of violent fighting in the high school where rarely a day goes by that they don't witness someone throwing punches and profanities as if it were candy being tossed from a float in a parade.

All of this rebellion causes so much pain and although I don't have any answers, I know that there is much good hidden beneath the struggling facade of teenage life, and I clearly believe that the young man with whom I recently spoke is a good boy and God will bring him around to sanctity once he gets past the rebellion. But I am also deeply struck by how blessed I am that the tragedies caused by teenage rebellion have escaped my family so far and I am determined to hold my children closely in gratitude for their goodness and pray that it will continue.

And for the rest of us, let's join the men of whom St. Paul speaks by lifting our hands in prayer until we can get past the anger and the arguments of rebellion and can finally live in peace with one another and with ourselves.

"Be at peace with your own soul, then heaven and earth will be at peace with you."
~Saint Jerome

Look To Him

I woke up feeling moody and grouchy this morning, both tired and discouraged immediately upon arising before I even began my day. I didn't have the energy to fight off the ugliness and I was quickly caving into gloom.

I lector at daily Mass three days each week and today was one of them. As I approach the ambo I usually whisper a prayer to the Holy Spirit asking Him to speak through me and allow everyone present in church to be moved by the words of scripture as I proclaim them. But today I only muttered a half-hearted prayer to Jesus as I bowed to His presence in the tabernacle asking, "Please, help me get through this."

The readings were so beautiful on this Feast of St. Martha and despite my lack of fervor in prayer, I quickly felt the love of the Lord through the words I was reading. Who couldn't feel His love when reading 1 John 4:7-16, this beautiful passage about the love of God? But although I could sense His love, I was still distracted by my emotions and I lost my place which resulted in me reading verse eight twice: "Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love." My mistake brought about the heat of an embarrassed blush quickly rising in my face.

By the time I came to the psalm, however, my embarrassment proved to be unfounded, for there I was reading my favorite scripture passage from Psalm 34: "Look to Him, that you may be radiant with joy and your faces may not blush with shame."

God's timing is amazing, is it not? Despite my negativity and my half-hearted attempt to proclaim His word, He would not allow me to forget His great love for me and maybe it was His doing after all, that caused me to repeat verse eight today. I think He had a message in that passage that He wanted to drive home to me; He wanted me to know that in my contrariness I was failing to love, failing to look to Him and know Him.

Through His amazing providence and His perfect love, all shame and embarrassment is cast out, all moodiness, fear and hate are gone. I will always look to Him and know that

God is love!

Of Holy Ground, Holy Hours and Holy Men

"But the seed sown on rich soil is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields a hundred or sixty or thirty fold.” from Matthew 13:1-23














After hearing the above Gospel reading at Mass, my son Joe questioned me: "Mom, what kind of soil are you?" We all want to be the rich soil, don't we, because we know that it's the "right" kind of soil, the one that will yield the most holiness in our hearts. But sadly, somehow, I don't think I'm there yet, and maybe I need more composting in my heart to enrich my soil. I had to honestly answer that question by saying that right now in the present moment the garden of my life is growing in the rocky soil, for I am always quick to hear the word of God and impulsively and joyfully accept it and believe that now I will finally live as a loving and faithful child of God, that my faith is rich and deep and strong. But along comes a storm or two, and maybe a drought in between, and before you know it, I'm withered and complaining, barely hanging on to my faith. I need some type of continual sustenance to change my rocky soil into the rich and fertile holy ground of deep and lasting faith.

Yet it wasn't too long after I answered that question when I felt the sweet consolations of God despite the sweltering heat of summer and felt that maybe through the prayers offered today at Roses for Our Lady's monthly Holy Hour for vocations at St. Francis de Sales Seminary, that my soil was perhaps becoming just a little richer and more prosperous. The chapel was filled with over sixty people praying fervently for an increase in vocations for the Archdiocese of Milwaukee. We were blessed with the presence of newly ordained Fr. Kevin McManaman and his parents, too! I could feel the love of God permeating throughout the chapel, pouring out from His presence in the Holy Eucharist and filling the air with the joy of both answered prayer and prayers yet to be answered.

In the Holy Ground of the Seminary the soil is always rich and moist with prayer and I felt in my heart that God was drawing the roots of those prayers deep into the earth where they would be strengthened and sustained and result in the sweet fruit of many holy and happy vocations to the priesthood and religious life. Holy ground, fertilized by holy hours of prayer, resulting in holy men. How rich!!!

What kind of soil are you?

Take Courage

One of my favorite gospel passages is that of the interaction between Christ and the hemorrhagic woman who touched his cloak in a crowd. Sensing that some power had escaped from his body, he questions who it is that has touched him and bravely coming into his view, she admits her action. Seeing her great faith he speaks to her: "Daughter take courage; your faith has made you well." (Matthew 9:22)

Take courage, he says. And this daughter wonders, how exactly does a person take courage? For me, a chronic worrier and perfectionist, one who lives with constant fear and anxiety, nothing sounds more appealing than hearing Christ speak to me and say, "Daughter, take courage." But that courage escapes me, and I am left to shake in my shoes and wonder exactly how it is that I am able to make it through the tasks of each day without crumbling into a million pieces.

The temperature spikes and tempers flare, bills pile up with no end in sight, worries about tomorrow fill my mind and there seems to be no escape, no recourse for my troubles. The consolations of God seem far distant, the comfort offered by friends can't seem to sustain me and although I kneel in prayer fingering the beads, words of prayer don't burst forth from my heart. It's hard to believe that God cares, that he knows the burdens I carry and wants to relieve me of my distress. Spiritual reading tells me how blessed I am to suffer, for in my suffering I assist Christ in His passion and relieve the torment he endures from the sins of many. But still...still...I need relief that doesn't come from reading about the saints. I recognize that I am far from the holiness to which I aspire; I am not yet a saint, and most likely will never become one.

Yet again, in recent days, He speaks those words in Holy Scripture:

"In the world you will have trouble, but take courage, I have conquered the world." John 16:33

So I kneel down in the pew each day, head bent low, offering Him my fear and weakness, my impatience and short temper and I open my hands to receive His Body and Blood. And it is here, here in the gift of Eucharist, that I receive the courage which carries me through into the unknown of each day. This is it, the answer to my questions, the solution to my worries, His gift to me...I give Him my all, my entire nothingness and in return He gives me His everything from which I draw just enough courage to carry me through until the next time my Lord and I meet in the most intimate connection ever known. I ingest His Body and He innervates my entire being with His courage-producing presence.

And he speaks to me, "Take courage, it is I. Don't be afraid." (Matthew 14:27)

So I go in peace to courageously enter into life in His service for just one more day, each and every day of my life.

A Three-fold Answer: Joy, Hope and Love by Bishop-elect Donald J. Hying

A reflection on the readings for Sunday, May 29th, 2011: Acts 8:5-8, 14-17, Ps 66:1-3, 4-5, 6-7, 16, 20, 1 Pt 3:15-18, Jn 14:15-21

What great secret explains the amazing growth of the early Church against very daunting odds? Why did this new way of life spread so widely and rapidly, despite persecution, hardship and minimal resources? How did the first Christians back up their proclamation of Jesus as Lord with a transformed life of authenticity? A three-fold answer appears in this Sunday’s Scriptures: joy, hope and love.
















The first reading speaks of the great joy in Samaria as the people experience the healing power of Christ, mediated through the ministry of Philip. The author seems to use the word “joy” on purpose here as the lingering effect of an encounter with the Lord. Pleasure can satisfy our senses for awhile; happiness radiates an existential fulfillment in embracing the purpose of life. Joy pulls us beyond this world into the realm of the Holy Spirit. When we know the unconditional love of God to the depth of our being, when we encounter the gracious mercy of Jesus in the aftermath of serious sin, when the Lord is so real in the sacraments that we are surprised, we know joy. To pursue joy as an end in itself is ultimately fruitless because the focus is still on self-fulfillment. Joy seems to come, rather, as the by-product of a life offered up and given away in radical imitation of Christ’s oblation of self in the Paschal Mystery.

In the second reading, Peter exhorts his listeners to “always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope.” Apparently, then as now, hope can perplex, challenge and disturb. In the face of harsh suffering, unrelenting illness or a sudden death, a superficial optimism quickly crumbles. Hope is made of sturdier stuff because its very foundation is the power and love of the Lord breaking into the swirl of human events. When life forces us to face the mystery of evil or the weight of human weakness, hope can seem foolish, naïve or even insensitive in the midst of so much darkness and pain. But, hope is all the Church has ever had. We dare to believe our faith to be true, Jesus’ promises to be real and the kingdom of heaven our final home. No one can prove any of these things, but hope in the resurrection of Jesus Christ allows a Christian to look death in the face and sing, because God will win out in the end.

The Gospel of John this Sunday speaks of love as an “abiding,” the Son in the Father, we believers in the Son and the Son in us. In love, we come to share in the very life of God who has taken up his dwelling in the depths of our being. Thus, the Christian religion is first and foremost a love relationship, not a moral code or a belief system. How we act and what we believe flow from who we have become in this new divine life.

In his treatise on the Trinity, St. Hilary explains this divine indwelling. “Jesus is in the Father by reason of his divine nature, we are in him by reason of his human birth, and he is in us through the mystery of the sacraments.” When we rest in this Trinitarian Life, who is both within us and beyond us, we understand the true nature of Love, the Love that empties itself out for our conversion and salvation.

With the vivid memories of Jesus’ earthly ministry in their minds, the power of Jesus’ death and resurrection in their hearts and the presence of the Holy Spirit in their lives, the apostles went forth with a fresh boldness to evangelize the world. So convicted were they of the transforming nature of the Gospel message that they literally dedicated the rest of their lives to proclaiming Jesus to everyone they encountered. The truth of their words was confirmed by the joy, hope and love that radiated from their communal life and their individual witness.

We may be tempted to think that things are different now, that the Church is 2000 years old and burdened with the weight of history, no longer fresh and new. But what are two millennia in the eyes of God? Wasn’t it just last week that Mary Magdalene ran down the path to breathlessly tell the astonished apostles that the tomb was empty? Wasn’t it just the day before yesterday that the apostles burst forth from the Upper Room on Pentecost Day to speak of a world suddenly redeemed and different? Recently a colleague was commenting on the blessings and challenges of ministry in the Church today. She offered, “What is the point of doing any of this if we are not radiating joy, hope and love as we do it?” I could not agree more!

1. What robs you of joy and hope? How can you change that?
2. If we truly believe the Trinity dwells within us, what does that conviction demand of us?
3. Think of a person whose joy and hope has bettered your life. How can you pass on the gift?

(originally published in the May 26th, 2011 Milwaukee Catholic Herald)

Three Favorite Scripture Verses

Mary at The Beautiful Gate has tagged me in the lastest blog MEME. This time around the theme is "Three Favorite Scripture Verses." The rules are:

1.Write a post on your three favorite verses from the Bible and why you like them.
2. Link back to this post.
3. In your post tag three other bloggers to carry this theme forward, link to you and tag additional bloggers.

Tough one, Mary, very tough to stick to three-but here goes my best effort....

1. Really, my all time favorite verse is Psalm 34:5

"Look to Him that you may be radiant with joy and your faces may not blush with shame."

I spent too many years ashamed of myself for my depression and my weakness and my sins and my imperfections. I wanted to be somebody else-anybody else-but the person God made me to be. Remembering to look to Him, and really seeing Him and His great love for me, just wipes all that shame away and the joyful radiance that overcomes me outshines the shamefaced blushing that I used to live with. Every time I hear this psalm, I have no choice but to smile!

2. Last year while at Mass one Sunday, my daughter Mary nudged me to let me know that the particular Gospel reading at that Mass was her favorite and her words inspired me to write this post about it. It just so happens that that very same Gospel was read at today's Ordination Mass (more about the ordinations to come in another post!) and Mary and I exchanged knowing smiles, remembering how meaningful that passage is to her. Although my daughter and I frequently disagree these days about many things such as music, television shows and how she wants to dress, we can agree that this scripture passage is wonderful, and now it's one of my favorites as well, after all, it's all about love and what's not to like about that!

"When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” Simon Peter answered him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” He then said to Simon Peter a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Simon Peter answered him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” Jesus said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was distressed that Jesus had said to him a third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep." John 21:15-17

3. Something would be seriously amiss if I failed to list the quote from this blog title as one of my favorites!

"I say to myself, I will not mention His name, I will speak in His name no more. But then, it becomes like a fire burning in my heart, imprisoned in my bones, I grow weary holding it in, I cannot endure it." Jeremiah 20:7-10

After two years of striving to release my inner Jeremiah here on this blog, I'm still at it. Will there ever come a day when that fire stops burning in my bones? I hope not! Please, Lord, keep burning within me and calling me to share your love and your words with others!

Thanks for the tag Mary! And now I tag the following bloggers:

Amanda Rose at Little Steps Along the Way
Colleen at Inadequate Disciple
Rebecca at A Solitary Bird
and a fourth--
Lindy at Little Flower's Crown of Roses

Depth Perception-Fr. Don Hying

I'm looking deeper within my soul this year trying to come to a peaceful acceptance of the life that God has given me in both the blessings and the burdens. One of the blessings that God often uses to help me look deep within myself is my good friend, Fr. Don Hying, the rector of St. Francis de Sales Seminary in Milwaukee. Through his words of wisdom I see myself a little more clearly, I understand myself a little bit better, and gradually I am growing into a deeper acceptance of myself while falling more deeply in love with God. Once again, Fr. Don generously shares his words of wisdom, his scriptural reflection on this Sunday's gospel (Jn 9:1-41), from his most recent Catholic Herald column, with Imprisoned in my Bones readers.



The post-communion song at a wedding I celebrated recently was titled: “If you could see what I see.” The singer ardently wishes that his beloved could see herself as he sees her, because she is so beautiful, authentic and good, but then comes to realize that she can only come to see and know herself through his eyes and perception, as long as he keeps telling her who he sees and how that feels to him.

Today’s Gospel is the moving narrative of the man born blind who is healed by Jesus. Last week was the woman at the well; next week is the raising of Lazarus. These three narratives from John’s Gospel are models of conversion, using the images of water, light and new life and serve as profound reflections both for the catechumens preparing for baptism and the entire Church in this season of Lent. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus repeatedly heals blind people, not only of their physical disability but, more to the point, their lack of spiritual vision.

Our world today is becoming increasingly visual, from posting pictures on Facebook to streaming video on the Web to visualized conversations that are texted. Yet, we can easily remain on the superficial plane of the exterior of things, accepting at face value what we rapidly perceive, but never lingering long enough to dig below the surface of the images that others present to us. Depth perception requires prayer, silence and reflection.

If we just skim along the top layer of Catholicism, the Eucharist becomes a sentimental symbol, the Scriptural stories of Christ become like bedtime tales, and the moral life a naïve and unreachable ideal. If our heart and spirit is not moving ever more deeply into the vast mystery of God, our religious practice quickly becomes an empty ritual that we eventually put in a drawer along with our faded First Communion pictures and broken childhood rosaries.

I know when I am giving prayer short shrift in my life because I stop seeing, truly perceiving the miraculous truth, stunning beauty and overwhelming goodness that surround me. When I go on retreat at New Melleray Abbey, a Trappist monastery in rural Iowa, having stepped away from the ceaseless routine, I immediately see everything in a different light. The sunrise becomes a cosmic event, filled with pulsating light; the birds in the trees are performing a symphony better than any concert hall can offer and the food tastes spectacular because I am actually taking the time to enjoy it.

In reading the lives of Saint Camillus and Saint John of God, two remarkable servants of the sick, I have always been fascinated and inspired by their ability to literally see Christ in the people they served, the more repulsive the better. Their spiritual vision of the Lord in the suffering has a palpability to it, a tangibility that saves it from being a pious thought. The saints loved so astoundingly and sacrificially because they saw the world from God’s perspective. Standing in the dazzling light of Christ, they saw life and death, good and evil, the beauty, tragedy and possibility of the human person in such vivid colors, that they felt their experiences with a passion that we can barely comprehend, and thus did the heroic and bold thing.

Is my vision improving this Lent? Is Sunday Eucharist a consummation of God’s love in my soul? Do I see the beautiful possibilities in the people around me or only their problems and faults? Underneath the thousand details that make up the surface of my life, am I embracing a deep interiority of prayer that, every once in awhile, leads me to the very heartbeat of God? Am I coming to literally see Christ in the poor, the sick, the Mass, the Gospel, the rising of the sun, and my own little life?

In the first reading, Samuel anoints David as king, much to the astonishment of his family. Then he says, “Not as man sees does God see, because man sees the appearance but the Lord looks into the heart.” Through faith, prayer and the sacraments, Jesus gradually heals our vision, to see as He sees and then to become an extension of His love and presence in the world.