To take this road with Jesus (Cecilia González-Andrieu)

   Once a year, we are brought into Lent’s relentless reminder of fragility and our dependence on God and each other. According to the Scriptures, Jesus intentionally walks away from all he knew. He begins a process of shedding the comforts that could dull his senses from seeing deeply into God’s heart, or worse tempt him to look away from the pain crying out to God, coopted by the promises of power. Only against the starkness of his meeting this reality does Jesus’ insistence to endanger his life by going to Jerusalem for Passover make any sense. The reality of his community is there in lives crushed by conspiring powers. He cannot walk away from the offenses against God’s desire of radical love, so he must transcend the paralysis that could overtake him and his friends in the face of Rome’s brutality and the collusion of the powerful who rely on Rome to prop them up. 

   The extreme contradiction of his situation is captured in his entry into Jerusalem, where we note the symbolic power of the Mount of Olives. This hill of olive trees beyond the city walls from which Jerusalem comes into view, is both the site of the promise of God’s Reign as he arrives and the site of its most destructive betrayal as he is arrested. The reality is that it is both at once and this is where Jesus transcends the fear that could stop him, a moment that clarifies for him that violence can no longer be viewed as the answer to conflicts. 

   And so – we are called out of ourselves to take this road with Jesus – to take up the gift of the reign of God we are called to bring, while knowing that there will be murderous opposition to that gift. As we step out of our comfort into the starkness of what is real, we transcend fear to see clearly that we must continue on to Jerusalem because that is where change happens. 

--Cecilia González-Andrieu 

Image source: Giotto, Entry into Jerusalem (14th century), https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triumphal_entry_into_Jerusalem#/media/File:Giotto_-_Scrovegni_-_-26-_-_Entry_into_Jerusalem2.jpg 

Quotation source and full article

Sunday Gospel Reflection, April 2, 2023: He humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death...

He humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death…

How can we join in Jesus’ journey for salvation?

    In his Letter to the Philippians, St. Paul describes the trajectory of Jesus from the time of the Incarnation, when Jesus took on flesh, through his death and resurrection. Jesus emptied himself, Paul says, coming in human likeness – he humbled himself, dying on a cross, yet was ultimately exalted by his Father. Jesus’ life was that of the Suffering Servant described by Isaiah, who knows how to speak to the weary a word that will rouse them, but who is rejected by the masses: I gave my back to those who beat me, my cheeks to those who plucked my beard. The Servant is called by God and given the capacity to offer comfort, strength, and encouragement, but receives only buffets and spitting in return for his efforts. 

    Jesus will live and ultimately die, so that he can rise. His suffering, or Passion, at the hands of the Roman occupiers and the Jewish authorities, is chronicled in every Gospel; Matthew’s version is fraught with moments of disruption and difficulty, from the time Jesus makes his triumphal entry into Jerusalem on an ass, a simple, pedestrian animal, a beast of burden. Though the crowds cry out, Hosanna to the Son of David; blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, Matthew also notes that the whole city was shaken by his presence. The disruption he describes will be echoed in the Passion narrative when Jesus gives up his spirit, at which moment the veil of the sanctuary is torn, the earth quakes, rocks are split, and tombs are opened. Jesus’ journey to this point has been fraught: from his sorrow in the Garden of Gethsemane to his betrayal by Judas to his abusive treatment at the hands of the Sanhedrin. Peter will deny him, the crowds will choose Barabbas over him, and the soldiers will crucify him. From the cross, Jesus will pray Psalm 22: my God, my God, why have you abandoned me? 

 Jesus abandoned his divinity to embrace humanity; he emptied himself that he might be truly one with us, so that he could die and bring us to God. It is our sins that are nailed to the cross, our salvation that his sacrifice ensures for all time. Through his obedience, Jesus shows us the way to God, the path we too must follow, the journey we too must make; his death gives us access to God in our lives. In baptism, we die with him, that we might rise with him. To accept to walk this journey is to know that we too will be shaken, rattled, that our journey will be disrupted. Embracing Christ’s journey means our life will not go on as normal, ever again. Are we ready to take that first step, during this most Holy Week? 

This post is based on Fr. Pat’s Scripture class.
Image source: www.wordclouds.com

Listen to the voice calling us the Beloved (Nouwen / Haas)

When we keep listening attentively to the voice 
calling us the Beloved, it becomes possible
to live our brokenness, not as a confirmation
of our fear that we are worthless,
but as an opportunity to purify and
deepen the blessing that rests upon us.

--Henri Nouwen 

    We are invited to allow God to provide the courage we need to not walk away from our brokenness, but rather, move closer to it. When we do so, God will be there. 

    May we keep practicing humility like we would practice our favorite instrument. Daily. In prayer. May we surrender our ongoing attempts to determine and control the path of our lives. May we stretch out and reach out not only with our hands but with our hearts. With all that we are. With all that we have. With all that we ache for. With all of the dreams that we dream. With all that we hold on to. May we be able to give it all up. 

    We need to be afraid. Whatever fear we have, may it be, for us, a most precious and holy fear. This is the fear, the brokenness, and the weakness that can open up doors for us, leading us to an even more holy transformation. 

--David Haas,

Facebook, July 6, 2018

Image source: Suzi Dennis, Mary and Martha, mixed media collage, https://www.pinterest.com/pin/66005950763537414/
Quotation source

Like Lazarus we stumble into light (Rory Cooney)

Up from the earth, and surging like a wave,
Rise up, O Christ! your God defies the grave.
Up from the earth push blade and leaf and stem,
They rise for Christ, and we shall rise with them!

Up from the cross a billion voices strain,
Cry for a hand to lift them from their pain.
Up from the cross but scarred in limbs and side,
A wounded Church brings healing far and wide.

Up from the night Christ morning star awakes.
O what a light upon earth’s darkness breaks!
Up from the night Christ sows his life like wheat,
And death itself lies fallow at his feet!

Up from the tomb of all the past conceals!
See how our God a brighter day reveals.
Up from the tomb! Though death had bound us tight,
Like Lazarus we stumble into light.

Cry to the cross where tyrants work their dread!
Shout to the tombs where parents mourn their dead!
Sing to the earth, for God all newness gives!
Alleluia! Christ Liberator lives! 

To hear Rory Cooney’s hymn Up from the Earth, click on the video below:

Image source: Jesus Mafa Project, Jesus Raises Lazarus to Life (1973), https://elmensemble.org/2021/04/02/called-with-lazarus-to-a-new-dying-and-a-new-life%E2%80%A8/
Video source

Free me from the unfreedoms (Andy Otto)

Lord God,

You give me the gift of freedom, guiding me to a life of joy, calling me to be my truest self. As you freed Lazarus from the burial cloths, and gave sight to the blind, and called the rich man to detachment, free me from the unfreedoms that pile up, which blockade me from the life-giving joy you have for me. Remove those things which hinder my life with you. I can freely choose this. And I do. 

Amen. 

--Andy Otto

Image source: Art by Stefan Salinas (2022), The Raising of Lazarus, www.stefansalinas.com (used with the permission of the artist).
Prayer source

Why did he weep? (Makoto Fujimura)

   Upon seeing Mary, Jesus does not respond with the analytical words he spoke to Martha. He does not say a word. “Jesus wept.” When Richard Hayes, the famed theologian at Duke, responded to one of my lectures, he put it this way: “At Bethany, the Incarnate Word of God stood wordless.” 

   Upon seeing Mary’s tears, Jesus wept. 

   Why? 

   Why did he weep? All he had to do is to take Mary by her hand, go to the tomb and call to Lazarus to rise from the grave. He could have told her, “see, ye of little faith!” 

   Why did Jesus waste his time weeping? His tears served no rational purpose, gained no pragmatic results. 

   My friend Steve Garber told me, standing in front of Charis-Kairos (The Tears of Christ) that he would not be a Christian apart from those tears. Jesus’ wasteful tears. 

   Jesus’ tears are still with us. 

   Physically in the air. 

   We breathe them every day. 

--Makoto Fujimura, Artist 

Charis-Kairos (The Tears of Christ) 

Image source & complete (and remarkable) article, entitled, Tears for Fragile Emanations: A Lenten Reflection, https://makotofujimura.com/writings/tears-for-fragile-emanations-lenten-reflection-2014

Surrendering to the divine (Pat McDonough)

   Mary, like any mystic, trusts her own experience of the Divine within, and surrenders to it. Do we? 

   Do we recognize God’s presence in both the miraculous and the mundane? Have we been taught to seek the Mystery and share the Mystery? How can we share the Mystery of Jesus - as parents, as professors, as priests, if we haven’t surrendered to all the stuff that we’re holding on to in order to make room for the Divine to grow in us, as Mary, the great mystic, did? 

    It is all present or it is nothing. God has our attention, or doesn’t. 

   Gabriel gets Mary’s attention. Who has my attention? Who has your attention? 

--Pat McDonough

Happy Feast of the Annunciation! 

Source of images: Marc Chagall, Annunciation (?), detail from the Chagall Peace Window, United Nations Building, New York, https://besharamagazine.org/arts-literature/a-thing-of-beauty/
Quotation source

I am the resurrection and the life (Krista Wheeler)

    The process of creating this icon of Jesus and Lazarus (with Martha and Mary in the background) has been quite the emotional journey. 

    When studying the story of Lazarus, I kept envisioning the moment Jesus held him after Jesus said "Come Forth!" and was resurrected, and what that moment must have felt like for both of them. Lazarus, a sense of bewilderment and disbelief, and Jesus, a sense of relief mixed with grief and joy. I tried to find a way to display all of those emotions. What I found in sharing the process along the way is that many people have identified with those very emotions and picture Jesus embracing them in the same way, as do I. I imagine Martha and Mary sharing a moment of grieving relief too, their beloved brother finally awaken after their precious friend finally arrived. 

    The succulents and birds of paradise are what Fr. James Martin, SJ Martin describes as growing at the place of Lazarus's tomb today. The skull and moths represent death and life. The tomb is, of course, from where Lazarus was resurrected. The four vultures representing the four days Lazarus was dead. Martha and Mary, Lazarus's beloved sisters and caregivers. And "ego sum resurrectio et vita," which means "I am the resurrection and the life," Jesus' words. 

--Kristen Wheeler, Artist 

Image source, from which you can order your very own copy of the Lazarus icon on matted prints and handmade icons: www.moderniconographer.com
Published by Fr. James Martin on Facebook, 2022. 

Sunday Gospel Reflection, March 26, 2023: I am the resurrection and the life...

I am the resurrection and the life…

Do you believe Christ’s Spirit dwells in you? 

    Imagine being raised from the dead! As Jesus approaches the end of his ministry in John’s Gospel, he knows that he needs to demonstrate beyond any doubt that he is the Son of God. When he learns that his friend Lazarus is ill, Jesus nonetheless remains for two days in the place where he is, for there can be no doubt that Lazarus is dead if Jesus’ actions are to have any effect. When, finally, Jesus arrives in Bethany, only Martha, the sister of Lazarus, has some modicum of faith in him: I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you, she tells Jesus. Jesus knows Psalm 130; he knows that when he addresses himself to the Father, he will be heard, for his soul trusts in the Father’s word. Surrounded by the Jewish community of Bethany, Jesus thanks his Father for hearing him and summarily raises Lazarus from the dead: Lazarus, come out! As Jesus has just told Martha, he is the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in him even if he dies, will live. And thus, Lazarus exits the tomb and is unbound. 

    Yet the story of Lazarus is our own story. Jesus comes to lead us through death to life, life in him. Like the promise of God to the people of Israel conveyed by Ezekiel, Jesus comes to put his Spirit in us, that we may live. As the people are restored to life, made whole by the Spirit of God, so, too are we blessed by the kindness and mercy and fullness of redemption born of the death and rising of Jesus. And, as Paul tells the Romans, If the Spirit of the one who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, the one who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also, through his Spirit dwelling in you. If we are focused in the love of Christ and in the power of God at work in the world, in us and through us, then we belong to Christ and are one with him, no longer alone in our fears or isolation or brokenness, but one in his Body, one with him, in Spirit and truth. We too raised from the dead by the Lord who loves us beyond all telling, who hears our voice, and calls to us, come out, that we might be unbound! 

This post is based on Fr. Pat’s Scripture class.
Image source: www.wordclouds.com

I see the world (Andy Stanley)

     Sometimes I just want it to stop. Talk of COVID, looting, brutality. I lose my way. I become convinced that this “new normal” is real life. Then I meet an 87-year old who talks of living through polio, diphtheria, Vietnam protests and yet is still enchanted with life. 

     He seemed surprised when I said that 2020 must be especially challenging for him. “No,” he said slowly, looking me straight in the eyes. “I learned a long time ago not to see the world through the printed headlines. I see the world through the people that surround me. I see the world with the realization that we love big. Therefore, I just choose to write my own headlines:  “Husband loves wife today.” “Family drops everything to come to Grandma’s bedside” 

     He patted my hand. “Old man makes new friend.” His words collide with my worries, freeing them from the tether I had been holding tight. They float away. I am left with a renewed spirit and a new way to write my own headlines. 

 --Andy Stanley 

Image source: https://www.upworthy.com/13-side-by-side-portraits-of-people-over-100-with-their-younger-selves-rp 

Quotation source

Let me see and hear (Tippett / Nouwen)

Taking in the good, whenever
and wherever we find it,
gives us new eyes for seeing and living.

--Krista Tippett

Dear Lord, 

    Give me eyes to see and ears to hear. I know there is light in the darkness that makes everything new. I know there is new life in suffering that opens a new earth for me. I know there is a joy beyond sorrow that rejuvenates my heart. Yes, Lord, I know that you are, that you act, that you love, that you indeed are Light, Life, and Truth. People, work, plans, projects, ideas, meetings, buildings, paintings, music, and literature all can only give me real joy and peace when I can see and hear them as reflections of your presence, your glory, your kingdom. 

    Let me then see and hear. Let me be so taken by what you show me and by what you say to me that your vision and hearing become my guide in life and impart meaning to all my concerns. 

    Let me see and hear what is really real, and let me have the courage to keep unmasking the endless unrealities, which disturb my life every day. Now I see only in a mirror, but one day, O Lord, I hope to see you face to face. 

    Amen.

--Henri Nouwen  

Image source: Marko Ivan Rupnik, The Healing of the Man Born Blind (mosaic), https://www.bethimmanuel.org/audio/man-born-blind
Quotation source 1
Quotation source 2

The Christian way of seeing (Bishop Robert Barron)

    In the strange and strikingly beautiful account of the healing of the man born blind in John’s Gospel, we find an iconic representation of Christianity as a way of seeing. Jesus spits on the ground and makes a mud paste, which he then rubs onto the man’s eyes. When the man washes his eyes in the pool of Siloam as Jesus had instructed him, his sight is restored. 

    The crowds are amazed, but the Pharisees—consternated and skeptical—accuse him of being naïve and the one who healed him of being a sinner. With disarming simplicity the visionary responds: “If he is a sinner, I do not know. One thing I do know is that I was blind and now I see.” 

    This is precisely what all Christians say when they have encountered the light of Christ. It was St. Augustine who saw in the making of the mud paste a metaphor for the Incarnation: the divine power mixing with the earth, resulting in the formation of a healing balm. When this salve of God made flesh is rubbed onto our eyes blinded by sin, we come again to see. 

    Reflect: How is the Christian way of seeing different from the culture’s way of seeing? 

--Bishop Robert Barron,

Gospel Reflection, March 22, 2020 

Image source: El Greco, Healing of the Man Born Blind (1567), https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Healing_the_man_blind_from_birth#/media/File:La_curacion_del_ciego_El_Greco_Dresde.jpg

Sharpening our spiritual sight (Daniel Harrington)

    [In John 9,] a man who had been blind since birth comes to see on both physical and spiritual levels, while those who seemed to see perfectly well become increasingly blind. The man born blind is a good symbol for us in the middle of Lent as we try to sharpen our own spiritual sight. 

   In a somewhat unusual (almost magical) procedure, Jesus anoints the man’s eyes with mud and sends him to wash in the pool of Siloam. Healed, the man is able to see on the physical level. But that is only the beginning of his coming to see the true identity of his healer. When his neighbors question him, the man affirms that he was indeed healed by “the man called Jesus.” 

   When the Pharisees contend that his healer could not be from God because he healed him on the Sabbath and thereby performed forbidden work, the man asserts that his healer is “a prophet.” […] When the opponents summon the man again and try to make him condemn Jesus as a sinner, he refuses and states that Jesus must be “from God.” When he finally meets Jesus again, the man accepts Jesus’ self-identification as the “Son of Man”—in John’s Gospel a glorious figure. Note the man’s journey in coming to see who Jesus really is: first a man, then a prophet and someone from God, and finally the glorious Son of Man. 

   The blind man’s progress in spiritual sight is paralleled by the opponents’ descent into spiritual blindness. While their inquiry starts quite objectively, their understanding of Jesus becomes increasingly hazy. First, they insist that Jesus must be a sinner because he broke the Sabbath. Then they dismiss the man’s claim that Jesus is from God. Finally, in their own encounter with Jesus, they fail to recognize their spiritual blindness and sinfulness in rejecting Jesus as the revealer and revelation of God. 

   The blind man’s story reminds us that we need God’s grace and revelation to move toward sharper spiritual vision. Likewise, the opponents’ descent into greater spiritual blindness warns us that if we think we already know all about Jesus, we may be blinding ourselves to the many surprising features of Jesus’ person and fail to see in him the glory of God. 

--Daniel Harrington, SJ 

Image source: 6th-century Rossano Codex, Healing of the Man Born Blind, https://hail.to/tui-motu-interislands-magazine/publication/ak395Yu/article/bMIND39 
Quotation source & complete article

Sight but no vision (Helen Keller)

The only thing worse 
than being blind is
having sight but no vision. 

--Helen Keller          

Image source: Duccio, The Healing of the Man Born Blind (1307), https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/duccio-the-healing-of-the-man-born-blind Quotation source

St. Patrick's Breastplate

    St. Patrick's Breastplate is a popular prayer attributed to one of Ireland’s most beloved patron saints. According to tradition, St. Patrick wrote it in 433 A.D. for divine protection before successfully converting the Irish King Leoghaire and his subjects from paganism to Christianity. (The term breastplate refers to a piece of armor worn in battle.) However, more recent scholarship suggests its author was anonymous. In any case, this prayer certainly reflects the spirit with which St. Patrick brought our faith to Ireland! 

    Often, in times of difficulty, people sometimes pray a shorter version of this prayer as a shield for divine protection, using just the following 15 lines about Christ: 

Christ with me, 

Christ before me, 

Christ behind me, 

Christ in me, 

Christ beneath me, 

Christ above me, 

Christ on my right, 

Christ on my left, 

Christ when I lie down, 

Christ when I sit down, 

Christ when I arise, 

Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me, 

Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me, 

Christ in every eye that sees me, 

Christ in every ear that hears me. 

You can read the full prayer by clicking here. 

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! 

Image source: St. Patrick, stained glass window, Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, Port Clinton, Ohio, https://www.ncregister.com/blog/what-st-patrick-can-still-teach-the-world 

Prayer source

Sunday Gospel Reflection, March 19, 2023: Everything exposed by the light becomes visible...

Everything exposed by the light becomes visible…

How can we see and recognize truth?

    When God sends the priest and prophet Samuel to anoint a successor to King Saul, Saul is actually still the reigning monarch! But God knows that it will be important to get Saul’s successor established in the hearts of the people before that transition is to take place, and so Samuel is sent to Jesse of Bethlehem, for one of Jesse’s sons is to be anointed future King of Israel. Once Samuel arrives, God tells him not to judge according to physical appearance; it is not the sons of lofty stature whom God chooses, but the ruddy youth David. Not as man sees does God see, God tells Samuel, for man sees the appearance, but the Lord looks into the heart. Once he is named King, David will rely upon God’s vision and wisdom to get him through dark days and keep him on right paths: The Lord is David’s shepherd, Psalm 23 reminds us. There is no better reason to see clearly than to recognize God as the source of all help in our lives. 

    Although it is ostensibly the man born blind who is healed when Jesus anoints him with mud in John’s Gospel, in fact, the story is about the possibility of recovering vision on the part of each person who enters into Jesus’ orbit. The blind man does not seek out Jesus; Jesus’ disciples ask simply, Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents? and that question is enough to prompt Jesus to intervene to heal him. The parents of the man come to know the truth: we know that this is our son and that he was born blind, they admit. Jesus will later tell the formerly blind man, I came into this world so that those who do not see might see. But the Pharisees refuse to see with God’s vision; they remain blind in their sin, judging by appearances rather than seeing as God sees. They refuse to see the truth that stands right before them. 

    If we accept new life in Christ, then we must and will, as St. Paul tells the Ephesians, live as children of the light, enlightened by the truth of Christ’s death and rising, and revealing that truth to our world. God often works to reveal the truth to us in new and challenging ways. How willing are we to see beyond what we know for certain? How open are we to the truth of our sacramental life in Christ? And once we see that truth, how can we do anything but reveal it in love to all we encounter, that we might build up the Body of Christ, the community that, since the pandemic, has become so precious to us all? 

This post is based on Fr. Pat’s first Scripture class via Zoom, March 19, 2020.
Image source: www.wordclouds.com

Who is the woman at the well? (Carolyne Wright)

In this late season, who is the woman at the well
drawing water, reflecting on the woman at the well?

Millennial fissures in the well-rim, weed-choked cracks
where brackish water rises for the woman at the well.

At the bottom of the well shaft, the sky’s reflective eye
opens, closes on the shadow of the woman at the well.

Where are the rains of bygone eras? Preterite weather
yields more rusted bucketsful for the woman at the well.

Ancestral well of Jacob, where a weary traveler rests,
where Jesus asks for water from the woman at the well.

Oh plane trees of Samaria, in whose shade a stranger
speaks of artesian fault lines to the woman at the well!

Chaldean fountains, oases of date palms and minarets—
how they flourish in the dreams of the woman at the well!

Mirages of marble, pomegranate flowers, cedars of Baalbek
shimmer in the sight of the woman at the well.

On the night of destiny, the angel Gabriel descends
and hovers by the footprints of the woman at the well.

Jacob’s ladder leans against the door of heaven—
on the bottom rung, the woman at the well.

Women of Sychar, women of Shechem! Draw aside your veils,
reveal the features of the woman at the well.

Wise ones, why do you weep? Do you fear your fate
tips a mirror toward the woman at the well?

Oh artisan of sorrow, mystery’s precision, sit down
beside your sister, second self, the woman at the well. 

--Carolyne Wright,

Ghazal: Woman at the Well 

Image source: Diego Rivera, The Woman at the Well (1913), https://artsandculture.google.com/asset/the-woman-at-the-well/HwHJhp2yyzqDZQ 
Poem source and explanation

Understanding and empathy (Fr. Ron Rolheiser)

    In his Second Letter to the Corinthians, Paul writes that, though innocent himself, Jesus became sin. That single expression, unless properly read, can be one of the most horrifying lines in scripture. Yet, understood within the dynamics of love, it powerfully highlights what love really means beyond fairytales. Real love is the capacity to absorb injustice with understanding, empathy, and with only the other’s good in mind. 

--Fr. Ron Rolheiser,

Facebook, November 14, 2022 

Image source: Paolo Veronese, Jesus and the Samaritan Woman (ca. 1585), https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Veronese.Jesus_and_the_Samaritan_Woman01.jpg

Drinking from the well of eternal life (Bishop Robert Barron)

   [In John’s Gospel,] Jesus says that the Father promises eternal life for everyone who believes in the Son. Every human being is a subject of inestimable value, because he or she has been created by God and destined by God for eternal life. 

    When Jesus speaks to the Samaritan woman at the well and promises her water welling up to eternal life, it is evocative of what Aquinas means by creation: the presence of God always at work at the very roots of our being. Creation is not a once and for all act of the essentially transcendent God but rather the ever-present and ever-new gift of being poured out from the divine source. What Aquinas implies is that the creature is a relationship to the energy of God, which is continually drawing it from nonbeing to being, making it new. 

    Once the soul has been transfigured, the only path that seems appealing is the one walked by Christ—that is to say, the path of radical self-offering, self-surrender. Fired by the God-consciousness, in touch with the divine source within us, drinking from the well of eternal life, we are inspired simply to pour ourselves out in love. 

 --Bishop Robert Barron,

 Gospel Reflection,

November 2, 2020 

Image source: Bryn Gillette, The Woman at the Well. For an in-depth analysis of this remarkable painting, go to: https://www.bryngillette.com/blog/2019/11/9/the-woman-at-the-well-john-4 (Be sure to scroll through the whole article!)

The water that I shall give you (Henri Nouwen)

   In the midst of Lent I am made aware that Easter is coming again: the days are becoming longer, the snow is withdrawing, the sun is bringing new warmth, and a bird is singing. Yesterday, during the night prayers, a cat was crying! Indeed, spring announces itself. And tonight, O Lord, I heard you speak to the Samaritan woman. You said: Anyone who drinks the water that I shall give you will never be thirsty again; the water that I shall give you will turn into a spring inside him, welling up to eternal life. What words! They are worth many hours, days, and weeks of reflection. I will carry them with me in my preparation for Easter. The water that you give turns into a spring. Therefore, I do not have to be stingy with your gift, O Lord. I can freely let the water spring from my center and let anyone who desires drink from it. Perhaps I will even see this spring myself when others come to it to quench their thirst. 

--Henri Nouwen

Image source 1: He Qi, Samaritan Woman at the Well, https://slideplayer.com/slide/12214556/
Image source 2:  Fr. Patrick Michaels, drawing made on March 12, 2020, during the last Scripture class before the many, many long months of quarantine during the pandemic.  This drawing remained on the board in O'Brien Hall until well after we had begun having Mass in the church again, as a reminder to those of us who love Fr. Pat's class (and his drawings) of what we would someday regain, post-pandemic.  There are other pictures, including close-ups, here: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2957158777678858&type=3
Quotation source

God always acts out of love (Fr. Patrick Michaels)

    God's revelation is absolute love -- that's what we are called to. God always acts out of love. God will always stretch us beyond what we are expecting, which is why we are meant to hope in him.  

--Fr. Patrick Michaels 

Scripture Class, OLMC, 

March 9, 2023 

Image source: Ivan Mestrovic, Woman at the Well, Notre Dame University, 
http://notredameclassof1969blog.blogspot.com/2018/06/2-nov-1968-notes-from-college-scenea.html

I've seen Him for myself and I believe it (Olivia Lane)

I heard a story from the Bible
When I was just a little girl
About a broken-hearted woman
Who met the Savior of the world
Thought it was just another story
One that the preacher man would read
But as I'm sitting here at home
Drinking red wine all alone
I think that woman might be me
'Cause tonight I feel just like
The woman at the well
Wondering how someone could love me
When I can't love myself
But You want me as I am and that sounds crazy
I guess maybe that's why grace is so amazing
Staring at that empty bottle
I swear I caught a glimpse of Him
He met me right there at the bottom
And turned that wine to living water
And taught me how to love again

Yeah, tonight I feel just like
The woman at the well
Wondering how someone could love me
When I can't love myself
But You want me as I am and that sounds crazy
I guess maybe that's why grace is so amazing
It's no longer just a story when I read it (when I read it)
'Cause I've seen Him for myself and I believe it

'Cause tonight I feel just like
The woman at the well
Wondering how someone could love me
When I can't love myself
But You want me as I am and that sounds crazy
I guess maybe that's why grace is so amazing
Just like the story from the Bible I heard when I was just a girl
I'm the broken-hearted woman
Who met the Savior of the world 

To hear Olivia Lane perform Woman at the Well, click on the video below: 

Image source: https://exponentii.org/blog/the-woman-at-the-well/ 

Video source

Sunday Gospel Reflection, March 12, 2023: How can you, a Jew, ask me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?

How can you, a Jew, ask me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?

How often do we put up barriers to God? 

    Having left Egypt to escape slavery, the Israelites wander the Sinai Peninsula, destined to spend forty years in the desert for failing to believe in God’s promise to them. Their complaints are manifold. In the Book of Exodus, the people grumble against Moses, blaming their leader for their thirst: Why did you ever make us leave Egypt? Was it just to have us die here? The people fail over and over again to trust in God, constantly questioning God’s care for them, although God has never stopped caring for them. Their quarrels and tests are examples of the barriers the people erect between themselves and God. As Psalm 95 notes, their hearts are hardened in the desert. The psalmist calls his contemporaries to better.  Psalm 95 is an invitation for the people to gather in worship, to give thanks for all God has done: Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving, let us kneel before the Lord who made us. But we can only kneel before the Lord if our barriers are removed, if we are open to God’s work in our lives. 

    The Samaritan woman whom Jesus meets at the well in John’s Gospel has put up her own barriers between herself and God. She has been married multiple times and is currently living with a man who is not her husband. In his request to her, Give me a drink, Jesus reaches beyond these barriers, and more. The woman is a Samaritan, and Samaritans were cut off from Judaism; she is a woman not of his own family and yet he speaks to her. Jesus is willing to violate the social customs of Jews and Samaritans alike in order to reveal himself as God in her presence: I am he, Jesus responds when she mentions the Messiah who is coming. Just as extraordinary: the woman believes it!  She is not caught up in the possible blasphemy of the statement or Jesus’ potential overreaching here: rejected by her own society, she is accepted, welcomed, loved by the Messiah himself, and her transformation will be radical. Dropping all barriers, she invites all who will listen: Come and see a man who told me everything I have done. She is ready to worship in Spirit and truth, to worship from the heart, from the source of grace itself, and her community joins her in this worship: we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the savior of the world. The fields of followers are indeed ripe for the harvest! 

     We believe that Christ’s death and resurrection are effective in our lives, bringing us forgiveness, opening the heart of God to us, dismantling all barriers we might have erected between ourselves and God. Such faith is a gift from God; it is not our own doing. Paul reminds the Romans that Christ’s death and resurrection were salvific for all people, and that we are justified by faith; we know that hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit. Whatever barriers we might erect, the love of God made manifest, Jesus Christ, has come to remove them. Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving, indeed, and recognize the God who made us, who saved us, who loves us more than we can ever know. 

This post is based on Fr. Pat’s Scripture class.
Image source: www.wordclouds.com

To come down off the mountain (Fr. James Martin)

Jesus asks us to take the fruits of our time with God to others. To come down off the mountain. And to do the hard—and rewarding—work of being an apostle for social justice. 

   On the last day of my first retreat as a Jesuit novice, my spiritual director said, “Time to come down from the mountain!” I had no idea what he was talking about. So I said, “Huh?” Smiling, he reminded me of today’s Gospel passage, the story of the Transfiguration, when Jesus is “transfigured” before three of his closest disciples. (The Greek word used is metemorphōthē: he undergoes a metamorphosis.) It’s a mysterious reading in which Jesus’s identity as the Son of God is again revealed to the disciples. 

   In response, the disciples want to stay. “Let us build three tents,” says Peter. Who wouldn’t? Who wouldn’t want to remain with Jesus there forever, worshiping him and basking in his (literal) glory? 

   Yet this is not what they are called to do. Following Jesus’s lead, they “come down from the mountain.” They return to the day-to-day work of being a disciple. 

   Working for justice can be hard. Several years ago, I asked Sister Helen Prejean why it seemed that so many people who work for justice can be, for want of a better word, angry. She said it was because they sometimes found it hard to see discernible “results.” Think of how long Sister Helen worked against the death penalty—decades—before Pope Francis declared it “inadmissible.” Justice work is necessary, but hard. 

   After a consoling time in prayer, a moving liturgy, a satisfying retreat, an inspiring book, an hour in spiritual conversation, or a walk in the woods in silence with God, we sometimes want to do nothing more than “remain.” But Jesus asks us to take the fruits of our time with God to others. To come down off the mountain. And to do the hard—and rewarding—work of being an apostle for social justice. 

   What “mountaintop” experiences do you find to sustain you in your work for justice? How are you being called to come down from the mountain—taking the fruits of your time with God to others as an apostle for justice? 

--Fr. James Martin

Image & quotation source: Mount Tabor, https://ignatiansolidarity.net/blog/2021/02/28/coming-down-from-the-mountain/?fbclid=IwAR3ZMVX7Gb22LUROUuaVJyoZLMmW1RjO8NCHTs0ZkgY4FMIzQ3SJbOYG3a4

Luminous with his grace (Fr. Billy Swan)

   The image that the Gospels use to convey the Transfiguration is light. Jesus’ face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. This is appropriate, for light allows us to see what is already there. Jesus was always divine, but people could not always see his divinity. On the top of Mount Tabor, it became clear to Peter, James, and John who Jesus truly was: God from God and Light from Light, as the Nicene Creed tells us. This light shone out from his humanity and concrete existence. God’s light shone through him and not apart from him. This point is crucial as we understand our lives in Christ. God’s grace and light shine through our humanity and make it radiant in transfiguration. Our faith in Christ is not an obstruction to living a fully human life; it is the source of living a fully human life. 

   Holiness is to take on the nature of Christ and to become luminous with his grace. That is why many representations of the saints in sacred art display them with a halo around their heads and bodies. At the Transfiguration, Jesus’ radiance with the light of heaven entices us and excites us with the prospect of our own transfiguration in him. 

   On the Feast of the Transfiguration, we join in praise of the God who is light and who allowed that light to shine from the humanity of Christ on Mount Tabor. We give thanks for the gift of that light that we have received at Baptism and that we joyfully bear to all. As we navigate experiences of darkness and suffering, may we come to believe that God still loves us in the night as his grace purifies us, changes us, and unites us more deeply to himself. 

--Fr. Billy Swan 

Image source: https://anastpaul.com/2018/08/06/feast-of-the-transfiguration-of-the-lord-6-august-todays-gospel-mark-92-10/ 
Quotation source & complete article

In the presence of the holy (Fr. Ron Rolheiser)

   Rudolf Otto, in his book The Idea of the Holy, submits that in the presence of the holy we will always have a double reaction: fear and attraction. Like Peter at the Transfiguration, we will want to build a tent and stay there forever; but, like him too before the miraculous catch of fish, we also want to say, Depart from me for I am a sinful man.  In the presence of the holy we want to burst forth with praise even as we want to confess our sins. 

--Fr. Ron Rolheiser, Facebook 

Image source: The Transfiguration, Armenian Gospel (1038), https://jimfriedrich.com/2018/02/10/which-light-do-we-belong-to-a-transfiguration-homily/  

More on Rudolf Otto’s book The Idea of the Holy

Listen to him (Vivian Cabrera)

   [In the story of the Transfiguration,] while [the disciples] stayed and faced this unknowing, even though they were afraid, I don’t know if I could have done the same. I want to believe I could have but my lived experiences tell me otherwise. It always feels like something terrible is going to happen right before God reveals himself to us. And why do we feel the urge to want to run away? What can I do to make me stay? The answer lies in what the Gospel says: This is my son, listen to him. 

   Our hearts can tell us what our minds can’t comprehend. They urge us to stay. As we enter Lent this year, let us sit in the certainty of what our hearts tell us, these hearts that were created by God, for God. Let us cry out what the psalmist says: Hear, O Lord, the sound of my call; have pity on me and answer me. Of you my heart speaks, you my glance seeks. It’s up to us to stay and wait… long enough to let the Lord show up and speak. 

--Vivian Cabrera 

Image source: https://tableprepared.com/2014/03/19/this-is-my-beloved-son-listen-to-him/
Quotation source

Time to listen (Pope Benedict XVI)

   We live in a society in which it seems that every space, every moment must be 'filled' with initiatives, activity, sound; often there is not even time to listen and dialogue... Let us not be afraid to be silent outside and inside ourselves, so that we are able not only to perceive God's voice, but also the voice of the person next to us, the voices of others. 

 --Pope Benedict XVI 

Image source: https://www.hearingaidsaustralia.com/Hearing-Aids/news/NewsArticle.jsp?News_ID=32
Quotation source