Coming Home

Dear Friends,

Thinking of home, wanting to be home is an abiding part of our human experience and longing. Refugees leave home with the hope of finding, establishing a new home – somewhere they will be known and welcome, consulted on matters of life…where they can keep “their things,” no matter how little they have…somewhere that people can come to visit and know hospitality…somewhere that they can put down the tent flap or close the door. To be homeless is to have none of these.

Home is where the heart is, “I’m coming home today,” the voice on the phone announces. “Country road take me home to the place I belong,” the late John Denver sang.

We not only want a home for ourselves and our families, we want a home for God. Hence, people all over the world throughout history set apart places to be sacred. We build altars, temples, churches and shrines, and we weep when people without sensitivity destroy these holy places because they belong to the other.

In the Synoptic accounts of the Transfiguration, Peter expresses our human urge to stop, to honor a sacred space by building a kind of home. “Lord, it is good for us to be here,” Peter says, dazzled by the sheer beauty on the face of the Lord, awed that he should be present to experience Jesus this way.

But Jesus says no. No home, not even a temporary one. If we follow Jesus, the Transfiguration story tells us we have to leave behind our desires, our securities. We have to leave the sacred mountain with Jesus – to go with Him to Jerusalem, to the sharing of Himself at Passover, to his trial and passion and death on the cross and resurrection. Jesus, who had no place to rest his head, (Mt.8.20) would find His apparent resting place in the tomb where he would be laid after his death on Good Friday.

But fast forward to the account of the empty tomb on Easter in the Gospel of John. There’s a detailed description of what Peter saw – a line that many of us consider a throwaway. “When Simon Peter arrived…he saw the burial cloths there, and the cloth that covered his head, not with the burial cloths but rolled up in a separate place. (John 20.6-7)” Did the separation of the head cloth tidily set aside mean anything at all? Yes, it did.

In the household culture of the day, when the master left the table after a meal, he left his napkin in one of two ways. If he left it crumpled, discarded as it were, it signaled the servant that the master was not coming back. But if the napkin was neatly folded at his table setting, the servant understood that the master wasn’t finished yet. He would be back. At the empty tomb, the folded head scarf signaled His followers that Jesus would be back, as indeed He was. Jesus, who was raised up from the dead is back. He lives with us, has made His home among us, walks with us through good days and bad. On His way to Jerusalem, at the mount of the Transfiguration, Jesus couldn’t, wouldn’t stop. But afterwards, after He had risen and gone back to His Father, Jesus would nonetheless stay with us, never to leave us. In the face of this mystery, with His Father and at the same time with us, we can say to the Risen One: it’s so good to have you home.

~ Sister Joan Sobala

Staring Down the Hinderer

Dear Friends,

Lent is less than a week old and we are already confronted with the desire to be done with it. That’s why, for the first Sunday of Lent, whether we are in liturgical year A or B or C, the readings are always about Satan and how he interacts with Jesus in the desert and this year.

Did you know that the word, Satan, means “hinderer?” Satan is anyone, anything, any relationship or situation, any interpretation of life or way of thinking that prevents us from becoming fully what Christ wants us to be – His brothers and sisters – alive and active on behalf of goodness in our world.

The naturalist, Craig Childs, once wrote about being confronted by a mountain lion in the wilderness that straddles New Mexico and Arizona. Childs, equipped only with a knife, knew that this weapon was no match against the cat which kills by leaping on its prey’s back and attacking the spine.

     “We (the lion and I) made clear, rigid eye contact. It began to walk straight toward me…A stalking stare…The cat was going to attack me…My only choice, the message going to the thick of muscles in my legs was to run…

     What I did instead was not move. My eyes locked onto the mountain lion. I held firm to my ground, and did not even intimate that I would back off.

     The mountain lion began to move to my left, and I turned, keeping my face to it, my knife at my right side. It paced to my right, trying to get around to my other side, to get behind me. I turned right, staring at it. My stare is about the only defense I had.

     It was looking for the approach. I wouldn’t give it any leeway, moving my head to keep its eyes on mine. The lion began a long, winding route, still trying to come from behind…It watched me closely as it left. It walked into the forest…I never saw the lion again.”

Craig Childs stared down the lion that would hinder his life. Jesus, in the Gospel, stares down the hinderer. By virtue of our baptism, you and I are given the courage of discipleship to do the same.

The hinderer still stalks us, and sometimes, presents us with something so desirable and apparently good that our resistance wears down.

The good news comes at the end of 40 days in the desert, when the angels come to minister to Jesus. God was with Jesus in His temptations and beyond them.

The story of Jesus’ temptations and those of Craig tell us in divine and human ways, that God, who has created us so lovingly and sees us as good, will not abandon us to our quirks, our rebellions or to the hinderer.

Early in Lent and throughout this season, God, the Father of Jesus and Our Father is with us and for us as we look the hinderer in the eye.

~ Sister Joan Sobala

Lent and the Holy Smudge

Dear Friends,

Lent begins on Wednesday. Not surprisingly, large numbers of people will find their way to one of the timely  Masses  and services that will be held that day. People, even those who do not frequent weekly liturgies, somehow find Ash Wednesday relevant.  We will accept on our foreheads and wear all daylong the holy smudge. We will wear it as a sign of conviction and a badge of commitment – a proclamation that we are believers in the Risen and Living Holy One who died to give us life beyond all telling. Lent is the beginning of our pilgrimage to Easter, with all that meant for Jesus and could mean for us.

The holy smudge, for us, is an outward sign of something deep in us. At least that’s the hope. The holy smudge is somewhat akin to the phylacteries (little boxes) the Israelites were instructed in Deuteronomy to wear on their foreheads and wrists . In these boxes were written the Shema, which begins: “Hear, O Israel, that the Lord our God is one.” Hopefully for the people who wore them they were more than outward signs.

A variety of people who walked with Jesus did outward public actions in his name, but Jesus was not impressed. He  spoke harshly about the ones  who did these acts  only to be noticed, but whose hearts didn’t belong to Christ. There was no personal commitment in them. Jesus said to them: I never knew you.

But Jesus knows us when we try to discern God’s will for our actions and the direction of our lives. We are called to be salt, light, blessedness for others.  When we cease to contribute to the worlds’ overdose of violence in word and action, the holy smudge of Ash Wednesday reaches our hearts. Justice, compassion and unity become more than causes. They mean that God in us is active and generous.

Great spiritual gifts have been given to us. We relish them and amplify them during Lent through the practices that are thousands of years old: prayer that opens us up to God’s grace, fasting that makes us understand the hungers that really matter and giving alms from our need and not just from our overage. This Lent, I hope we can be imaginative about what these practices mean. One Latin American bishop, recognizing that in his poor country most people had little to eat, told them to find new ways to fast. If you know how to read – he told them – teach someone else to read. That’s being imaginative with one of the core practices of Lent. Poetically put by some anonymous bard:

                                Is this a Fast to keep the larder lean? And clean of veals and sheep?
                                is it to quit the dish of flesh, yet still to fill the platter high with fish?

                                Is it to fast an hour, and show a downcast look and dour?

                                No: ‘tis a Fast to dole thy sheaf of wheat and meat unto the hungry soul.

                                It is to fast from strife and old debate and hate;

                                To circumcise thy  life.

                                To show a heart grief-rent; to starve thy sin, not bin;

                                And that’s to keep thy Lent.

~Sister Joan Sobala

Defining Heaven

Dear Friends,

Each time we say the Lord’s Prayer, we pray to “Our Father who art in heaven” and we include a line that says “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Heaven. When is the last time you included in your conversations some reference to heaven? Life, lived as it is today in the fast lane, is so absorbed in today that any thought of heaven leaves us skeptical. Still, even though the word “heaven” is not part of our everyday vocabulary, once in a while, it’s good to be reminded that heaven is a reality and a goal for Christians, as well as other religious groups. Muslims believe the deserving end up in a peaceful abundant paradise; many Buddhists and Hindus believe they must pass through a series of heavens before they get to the enlightened bliss of nirvana. Many Jews believe in life everlasting in God’s kingdom which shall never be destroyed. Some African faiths speak of a long journey to a lovely next world, while others teach that the heavenly spirits live among us.

Two stressful times, in particular, find people desperately hoping for heaven: first, at times of persecution, when people endure suffering for who they are at the cruel hands of others. At this time when life seems to be falling apart, the suffering and their loved ones focus on heaven and what God has in store. Secondly, when our loved ones are dying – we believe more compellingly than at more placid times that the dying are on their way to heaven. We want them to be whole, safe happy and without pain. Moreover, for Christians, life with God in eternity is for everyone.

In the long history of belief or conjecture about the afterlife, Jesus stands out as the One whose words and actions make heaven take on new meaning for his followers and for all time. He doesn’t speak of heaven as a reward, certainly not a place of material pleasures, tribal triumph or falling into the cosmos no longer a unique person. For Jesus heaven is a glorious personal transformation and an eternal communion with the living God. Ultimately, heaven is the believer’s true home and ultimate destiny. In Luke, Jesus says to the repentant thief also hanging on a cross: “This day, you shall be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23.43) In his own agony, Jesus thought of another person who was suffering. Paul puts the prospect of eternal life with God this way: “Eye has not seen nor ear heard what God has ready for those who love him.” (1Cor.2.9)

Christian teaching used to highlight heaven as our true goal with this life as an antechamber, a prologue. With Vatican II, believers have been taught to savor, build up and take delight in our lives and this world with all its surprising possibilities, needs and challenges. We now say that heaven is already here in our midst. Heaven is not some far distant place. Wherever the Beatitudes are lived out, wherever people are more aligned with God’s ways, heaven is already present. Dante, in the Paradiso, describes heaven as “a state of being in which we open up to more love.” That certainly can happen here and now.

Peter Kreeft, a professor of philosophy at Boston College says of heaven: “It is the New Jerusalem, and Paradise Regained, the Community of Saints and the Eternal Eucharist; everlasting Easter and a million Christmases. It is an end to death’s sting; it is the eternal ongoing, ever growing experience of God. It is the ecstatic dram of St. John: ‘Holy, holy, holy.’” Heaven is real, though we do not know its details.

Take a look around you. What heaven will be has already begun today.

~ Sister Joan Sobala

Phrases of the Heart

Dear Friends,

We’ve been so serious lately as a nation (and rightly so), but on this day before Valentine’s Day, let’s be playful. Instead of an essay, I invite you to think about phrases of the heart. Think about them, add to them, let them be part of your conversation and prayer over these days when we celebrate the faithfulness of the human and work to overcome the vagaries of the heart. Ready?

Happy heart / big-hearted / heavy-hearted / warmhearted / dear heart / lose heart / stouthearted / brave-hearted / heart and soul / heartache / heart to heart talk / sweetheart / cold-hearted / my heart melted / open your heart / bottom of my heart / heartbeat away / close to my heart / broken heart / you’re all heart (and of course, hearts of palm and celery hearts.) OK, now let’s get serious.

Jesus is described as a man of heart. Learn from me, for I am gentle and humble of heart (Mt. 11.29). My heart is moved with pity for the crowd (Mk.8.2). He was well aware of what is in the human heart (Jn.2.25). My heart is filled with sorrow (Mk.14.34). In Matthew, My Heart is nearly broken with sorrow.

And sadly, it is said of Judas that immediately after the Passover meal, “Satan entered his heart.” (Jn. 13.27). Better to remember Mary, who reflected on all that had happened in her heart (Lk.2.19) and who heard from Simeon that her heart would be pierced (Lk2.35).

The Scriptures also describe what our hearts are to be like. Love the Lord with your whole heart. (Mt.22.37) Remember that where your treasure is so is your heart (Mt. 6.21). Paul invites us to set our hearts on greater gifts (1Cor.12.31). He also tells us that the Holy Spirit will stand guard over our hearts and mind (Phil.4.7). The psalms remind us to give thanks to God with all our hearts (Ps.9.2) and to pray for a steadfast heart (Ps.57.8).

And here’s a whole set of beliefs and conclusions and turns of phrase collected from human wisdom or human folly about the human heart: The heart does not always have its way. Our hearts can change. The heart takes risks. Communities as well as individuals have heart. Only the heart can forgive. The longest distance is from the head to the heart. God can fix a human heart if we give God all the pieces. The heart is where we suffer.

Today, as the work of the day continues, as we meet people, perform whatever life tasks are assigned to us or which we voluntarily take on, as we eat and drink and love and explore the world, as we suffer whatever pain is uniquely ours, let us try to be wholehearted and single-hearted. Even when we are restless or anxious or subject to envy or rejection, when we seek God today, we shall find God (Jer.29.13). Count yourself among the believers who were of one heart and one mind (Acts.4.32).

May what you have heard from the beginning remain in your hearts (Jn.2.24).

~ Sister Joan Sobala

A Culture of Non-violent Resistance

Dear Friends,

Non-violent protests have taken place across the country and elsewhere in the world since President Trump’s inauguration, even to this weekend. In themselves, such protests are a powerful symbol of solidarity and resistance to perceived injustice. Otherwise seemingly ordinary people are moved to act in extraordinary ways, convinced that human problems can be solved without violence. A movement, which began to rise as seemingly isolated instances in the last century, continues to be treasured, and repeated, albeit in new ways. We not only see it, we recognize it as holy. It’s ours to carry on for the sake of life.

One remarkable instance of non-violent resistance in Nazi Germany has been told by a man named Nathan Stolzfus. He reports that a thousand women demonstrated before the Rosenstrasse Detention Center in Berlin, demanding the release of their Jewish husbands who had been arrested by the Gestapo. The women were defiant, refusing to disband. After three days, the Gestapo released the men. Almost all of them survived the war. The women’s resistance had been both powerful and successful.

Non-violent resistance ultimately led to President Lyndon B. Johnson’s signing the Civil Rights Act of 1964. True, there have been violent demonstrations since then, even into this century, but the non-violent protest was rising to the level of conviction in the lives of Americans and many people around the world.

The United Nations unanimously declared the first decade of the 21st century to be the “Decade for a Culture of Peace and Non-Violence for the Children of the World.” At times, popular movements have been violent, but what is exposed to the world in such violence is the incredibility of violent regimes who don’t understand that violence is self-defeating. People want peace. The gateway to peace is non-violence. The cessation of hostility and genuine reconciliation are ways to peace, and nothing less will do. We ourselves have to make the choice to be non-violent.

In 1999, I was in Selma for the 35th anniversary of the March to Montgomery which had ended in violence just over the Edmund Pettis Bridge. That anniversary day, while waiting in the streets for the event to begin, many original marchers told bits and pieces of what happened as they went through last minute preparations for the 1964 march: Keep your hands in your pockets. Look forward. Don’t provoke anyone. “Yes,” an ardent civil rights youth had called out, “what if someone hits me and I want to hit back?” “Then you don’t march!” shot back the organizer. It was more than a rule to follow. It was the hallmark of non-violent action on behalf of justice. Non-violence would eventually win in that call for justice.

Nowhere in the gospel does Jesus ever use or advocate violence. In the Garden of Gethsemane, not long before Jesus would die violently on the cross, Jesus said no to the use of violence by His followers. There, in the garden, Peter cut off the ear of the high priest’s slave, Malchus (Jn 18.10). Jesus told Peter to put away his sword. When Luke reports this incident, Jesus heals the slave’s ear. (Lk 22.51.)

In these days, we turn to Jesus, the non-violent teacher of non-violence, to show us firm resistance without recourse to the sword or its contemporary counterpart.

~ Sister Joan Sobala

To Stay or To Go

Dear Friends,

Think Chapter 6 of John’s Gospel. One day, Jesus asked Peter and his closest followers a vital question about staying with Him or leaving. Jesus had been talking about giving His flesh for them to eat and His blood to drink. His opponents pressed Him harder and harder about this unbelievable message. After hearing His words, some of Jesus’ disciples stopped walking with Him. “This is intolerable language,” they said. “How could anyone accept it?” (Jn.6. 60, 66)

Then Jesus turned to the Twelve. “What about you,” he asked. “Do you want to go away, too?” (Jn.6.67)

The ultimate decision: to stay with Christ or to leave Him. Peter then spoke and hopefully, we dare to make his words our own. “Lord, to whom shall we turn? You have the words of everlasting life. We have come to believe that You are the Christ, the Holy One of God.” (Jn. 6. 68)

The decision “to stay or to leave” looms before human beings of every age, nationality and outlook. People facing political unrest or change in their very nations ask themselves: Do I stay or leave? Refugees are crossing the world because of how they respond to that question. Married people, priests, members of religious orders, weighing personal needs and church developments ask: Do I stay or leave? Women who find resistance in the Church to our ministerial priesthood ask: Do I stay or do I leave? Workers in every field of human endeavor and expertise ask: Do I stay or do I leave? Stay in the field at all? Stay in the field here? Remember a few years ago, the sketch of the little girl, holding tight to the flags of the United Kingdom and England, while the flag of Scotland floated freely away? The caption read “Must you go?” Our questions of staying or going affect others, too. In consideration of them, we weigh our choices.

How do we deal with questions of leaving or staying as they rise in us? Surely it’s a question of judgment, values, convictions, of vision and hope. There is no absolutely right or wrong answer. But there are ways of weighing these questions with wisdom and insight.

I will stay, if there is more life than death in staying? I will stay, if I have something to offer and it can bear fruit? I will stay if there in me a sense of rightness about staying that I can’t shake?

Or I will go, if there is more death than life in staying. I will go, if there is nothing I have to offer that will bear fruit or if what I have to offer is unacceptable and cannot bear fruit. I will go if I believe that God bids me to go elsewhere.

Not very clear or measurable criteria are they? We can argue with them and create our own criteria.

Still, they are a start for our thinking and encouragement to face one of life’s more challenging questions. Who knows. Perhaps, up the road, clarity will confirm our decision and make firm our way.

~ Sister Joan Sobala