The Many Faces of Mary

Dear Friends,

Are you old enough to remember holy cards? Pictures of Jesus, Mary, Joseph or the saints? I had a whole collection of Mary images. She was sometimes alone, sometimes holding Jesus. These cards exclusively portrayed Mary as white, pink-cheeked, young, clothed in simple blue or white.

At the head of this blog is a series of images of Mary created by artists* from various parts of the world. Mary looks like the people of their country. Her clothes and facial expressions are theirs. These images say that Mary belongs to them, not as a foreign import, but someone God has given them to be the Mother of God as they envision her, their own Mother, their morning star, teacher, companion and friend. As with Jesus, Mary is not a stranger to people of any land as they grow in faith.

This month, October, in the universal church, is dedicated to Mary, and, to the Rosary which is one way we pray to her. The Rosary is credited to Dominic in the 13th century, who taught it to people who were largely illiterate. They couldn’t read the Scriptures, but they could memorize the joys, sorrows, and glorious times of Jesus’ life. Saying the “Hail Mary” on each of 10 beads, they could blend the scriptural truths of Jesus with Mary’s own life. Jesus would not have come if Mary had not said “YES.”

Pope St. John Paul II added a new set of meditations to the Rosary. Entitled the luminous mysteries, they fill in the gap from Jesus’ infancy and childhood to His arrival in Jerusalem, passion, and death. The luminous mysteries include the Baptism of Jesus by John, the wedding feast at Cana, the proclamation of the Kingdom, the Transfiguration, and the Giving of the Eucharist at the Last Supper. Popes since the 16th century have encouraged believers to say the Rosary. With beautiful transparency, recent popes have reflected on the power of the Rosary in their lives:

“With the Rosary, we allow ourselves to be guided by Mary, model of faith, in meditating on the mysteries of Christ, and day after day, we are helped to assimilate the Gospel, so that it shapes our lives.” (Benedict XVI)

“The Rosary is our daily meeting that neither I nor the Blessed Virgin Mary neglect.” (Pope St. John Paul II)

“The Rosary is a School of Prayer and a School of Faith.” (Pope Francis)

The unity of all aspects of the mystery of God in Christ is present as fingers, heart and mind focus on the living Christ. Some people carry a chaplet (one decade in a small circular configuration) in their pockets to pray during a walk from one place to another. Some people simply finger the beads without words.

Many contemporary Catholics have given up the Rosary as a form of prayer as archaic or too repetitive. It takes practice to reclaim this way of prayer, especially now in a time when meditation and contemplation tug at our prayer-heart-strings. In the Rosary, the words of the Hail Mary slip in and out of the mystery being contemplated. After a while, it works.

~Sister Joan Sobala

*Photo above: Top (L-R): Mother and God: Queen of China (Chu Kar Kai); North American Indigenous Mother and Child (Fr. John Giuliani); Vietnam Mother and Child (unknown)

Middle (L-R): Italian Madonna (Allesandra Cimatrous); Sunshine Mother and Child (Shijun Munns)

Bottom (L-R): Modern Day Mother and Child (Jessica Russo Scheer); Navajo Mother and Child (Katherine Schange); Black Mother and Child (Unknown) Found in Corpus Reports

Yearning for Peace and Harmony

Dear Friends,

Yearning is not an everyday word in our vocabulary. Though an uncommon word, deep within us we yearn for harmony and peace, the richness of life shared, those realities that unite us as one.

Every age of human life, from the beginning, has uttered the cry of Habakkuk in today’s first reading – the cities of Europe overrun by the Mongols, the Jews remembering the Holocaust, the Japanese who bear the scars of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Naturals disasters in our country and across the globe, the events of 9/11, the unprovoked war in Ukraine make people cry out:

How long, O Lord? I cry for help and you do not listen!

I cry to you “Violence!” but you do not intervene. 

Our own city is plagued by murders of young people, battered women seeking shelter, pedestrians struck by drug or alcohol-impaired drivers. You and I are the brother and sister of everyone who suffers violence. We share in the cry of Habakkuk to God for help.

We want the day to come when there will be no more racism, when we will all be color blind. No more terrorism. Life will be too precious to be bombed or otherwise deliberately destroyed. No more sexism. Women will not be demeaned, used or considered inferior and men will not be pressured to live out destructive standards or die maintaining expected images.

We yearn for these things and more. In the light of all the Gospel can inspire, we yearn for a day when our church will pay so much attention to the growth and needs of people in Christ’s name that it cannot afford time to mistrust its members – a time when the strife and clamorous discord that Habakkuk speaks about are gone.

Yearning. We yearn for human possibilities that seem impossible. Left to ourselves, we might despair and smother the yearning in us before our hopes get too high. We fear the apparently impossible.

But listen to God answering Habakkuk and us as well:

The vision still has its time, presses on to fulfillment and will not disappoint.

If it delays, wait for it. It will surely come. It will not wait.

Jesus, throughout the Gospel, gives us an unerring vision – to love without clutching, to live without contention, to serve without competition. When we feel the yearning in ourselves for these or analogous things, it is God speaking to us.

Let’s face it, though. We don’t believe the vision is possible or that it is coming or that we have what it takes to live by the vision.

But God knows us. God has not given us a cowardly spirit, Paul reminds Timothy today. Rather, God has given us a spirit that makes us strong, loving and wise. Gifted with this spirit, as well as a faith that leads us to do the apparently inexplicable. Jesus encourages us to be so/do so in today’s Gospel.

The yearning of God for us becomes our yearning for God. It is not born of a naïve optimism but of bedrock confidence in the God who says:

Wait for the vision. It will surely come.

~Sister Joan Sobala

The Wheel of Fortune

Dear Friends,

We know that Wheel…of…Fortune…is one of our country’s most popular, longest running game shows. Viewers cheer wildly when a contestant accumulates gifts and money, and groan sympathetically when the wheel stops at Bankrupt.

Know where the wheel of fortune comes from? It’s an abbreviated form of today’s parable about the rich man and Lazarus. Many early medieval cathedrals in Europe have a wheel of fortune sculpted around the rose window. On the left, ascending side, the man is shown rising to wealth and prominence. At the top of the wheel, he is richly arrayed, but then on the descending side, he begins to fall into poverty and at the bottom, he ends up upside down with his toes sticking out of holes in his shoes or perhaps with no shoes at all – a graphic reminder that, although the world flatters the rich and powerful, material well-being is not automatically a sign of God’s favor or approval.

The rich man in today’s Gospel is not accused of specific injustices, but only of self-interest and self- indulgence, dressing elegantly and dining sumptuously every day. His sin was that he did not even recognize Lazarus’ longings, and perhaps even more seriously, did not even see Lazarus. He never noticed that Lazarus was there daily.

Self-absorption – reaching for the top of the wheel of fortune without regard for the poor stranger is a biblical theme that repeats itself in every age. Think Scrooge, for example, in The Christmas Carol. And in our day, think of the news commentators who encourage us in this voting season to put into office whoever will give them more money, a better lifestyle. For them, there is no need to think of Lazarus.

Suppose the American public did want to be faithful to Christ’s calling on behalf of the poor stranger? The situations are complex and vast. We feel paralyzed and desensitized. What can we do?

For one thing, we can register to vote if we haven’t done so, and we can vote for candidates and issues that will support and benefit the common good and the poor stranger. Voting can be a way of recognizing Lazarus. A second thing we can do is in our daily world. We can’t end the war in Ukraine or deal with the flooding and fires that strip people of their necessary possessions, but we can reach out a hand to the stranger in our neighborhood, in our own homes. SomeONE. Do we do that?

Another way of reading this Gospel is to recognize that Lazarus is within each of us. Lazarus – whom we ignore or don’t even see. There is the rich, valued part of us that we present to the world and there is the Lazarus in us that longs to be fed and recognized – the part of us we do not cultivate but which will be blessed by God when we come face to face.

The Lazarus in us is the part that has not succeeded, the addicted part of us, the part of us that lacks self esteem or haunts us in the night. Today’s Gospel tells us that our God values not just our successes but our very neediness, our woundedness, our need to be fed. Today, we are reminded that God’s love includes those parts of us that escape our best efforts – the Lazarus within us.

So, we celebrate Lazarus today. His name means “God is my helper.” As we try to make our world and ourselves more human, God is our helper.

~Sister Joan Sobala

Enthusiasm for God and the Things of God

Dear Friends,

In the Gospel, Jesus draws our attention to a crooked manager who has a redeeming quality – namely his enthusiasm for his own life. In a moment of crisis, this man acts shrewdly, wisely, and prudently to save himself. Jesus applauds his initiative and ingenuity. The crooked manager in Jesus’ story wants not just to survive, but to succeed, even if it means to move to a new place.

Through this story, Jesus tells His disciples and us to have the same enthusiasm for the reign of God that the crooked manager has for his own skin.

The call to be enthusiastic about God makes sense. The very word “enthusiasm” means being inspired by God.

It takes a lifetime to learn and internalize what it means to be a committed follower of Christ – to be public in living our faith and personal on our love for the stranger.

In some people’s lives, the name of this action on behalf of others is called heroism. Some heroes give some. Some give all. Certainly, unremarkable people turned into heroes on 9/11/2001 as strangers helped other strangers without regard for their own safety. Often in the years since then, we have heard stories of rescue and courage in the case of one, two a handful, a hundred people in danger.

Where did this heroism come from? From somewhere deep within them – some hidden place not even known to their self-consciousness.

That hidden place was their life drawn from God, their life with God. Our God – yours and mine – is the God of everyone. Some resist or ignore God, others know God in their daily lives. As the renowned psychologist Karl Jung put it, “Bidden or unbidden, God is present.”

News commentators in the aftermath of 9/11 had said that another possible target of the terrorists that day was the UN building. For some reason, that made me think of Dag Hammersjold, the UN Secretary General, whose plane crashed in Africa in 1961, when he was on a peace mission.

Then and often since, I have gone back to Hammersjold’s posthumous book called Markings, jottings written from the depths of his soul, for Dag Hammersjold wrestled with God all his life.

His words are apt for all heroes and for our own struggles with God:

  “I don’t know who – or what – put the question.

I don’t know when it was put.

I don’t even remember answering.

But at some moment I did answer Yes to Someone – or Something –

and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and

my life in self-surrender had a goal.

I came to a time and place where I realized that the Way leads to

a triumph which is a catastrophe and a catastrophe which is a triumph…

After that, the word ‘courage’ lost its meaning,

Since nothing could be taken from me.” 

This is the deep truth that Dag Hammersjold found in his being. This is the inspiration of heroes. This is the awareness that lives in me: God’s presence, bidden or unbidden, in me. 

~Sister Joan Sobala

We Do What We Can

Dear Friends,

Twenty-one years ago, the date 9/11 was seared into American memory as a day of violent attack, many deaths, courage and compassion. Stories about that day have continued to emerge – stories of not knowing what to do next, stories of love and friendship, stories that have rooted them in lands beyond the United States.

Michael Grady was a fairly junior Coast Guard officer in the area who took charge of a marine rescue operation as soon as he realized what had happened. Grady sent out the call: “Anyone wanting to help with the evacuation of lower Manhattan Island report to Governors Island.” Five-hundred-thousand people were stranded there. The only ways they could get off the island were by walking or by water. One-hundred-and-fifty tugboats, ferries, pleasure boats, yachts responded making the trip over and over again to bring people to safety on Staten Island, New Jersey and elsewhere. Later in the day, the same boats brought supplies to use at the World Trade Center – everything from bottled water to acetylene torches. People did what they could.

The play Come From Away tells the story of over 6,500 people on 38 jumbo jets that were diverted from their various destinations on 9/11 to Gander, Newfoundland, a town of about 10,000 people. Passengers were hosted by the townspeople who gave what they had and did what they could.

Kathleen Murphy was a native of Kinsale, Ireland, who worked for 40 years as a nurse at Lennox Hill Hospital in New York. Firefighters, fallen on 9/11 were brought there, and she knew Father Michael Judge, chaplain of the NYC Firefighters. Kathleen came home to Kinsale to die of cancer, but the first responders lost on 9/11 were still on her mind. On some property she had on a hill above Kinsale Sound, Kathleen Murphy created a memorial to the 343 firefighters who perished in the World Trace Center Towers. Three-hundred-and-forty-three trees of various kinds were planted. Each bearing the name of a firefighter. Later, visitors who came, including many family members of the deceased, brought photos and mementos, medals won for valor, quotes and recollections. Kathleen Murphy and the people of Kinsale did what they could.

        In remembering life’s tragedies, in going forward with life, we, too, must do what we can.

        When disaster strikes or enemies attack, we do what we can.

        When the call comes to drop what we’re doing to respond, we do what we can.

        When we think we can’t, we do what we can.

        When it seems that all we can do is pray, we do what we can.

        God is ever present, so with God we do what we can.

        It’s never too late to do what we can.

~ Sister Joan Sobala

The Dignity of Work

Dear Friends,

All of our lives we work. From our infancy to our death, we learn to take in and become all we possibly can about being human. This is major work for which we receive no money, but rather, we receive the human qualities that will inform our lives. For the work of our becoming, we praise You, O God.

On this Sunday of Labor Day weekend, let’s pause to think about the challenge to honor all work, beyond our becoming, and not to resist work as something not worthy of us. For the openness to work you inspire in us, we praise You, O God.

Let’s look upon work with the eyes of God. God is the first among workers, as we read in Genesis. God worked for seven days, and then rested. We are God like when we work, when we produce, create, imagine, enlarge and rest from our work. For making our work an imitation of yours, we praise You, O God.

All work is not of equal value, but all work is valuable. Not because of what we earn, although that is necessary, but all work is valuable because it is how we build, nourish, educate, make music and fun with one another. It’s how we sustain the human community. For the work of our minds, hearts and hands, we praise You, O God.

We have a habit of thinking some work is more important than other work. We tend to believe that, if I make more money, my work is more valuable. But consider the truth that the value of work is within us. As a dishwasher in a restaurant, I contribute to the health and safety of customers. As a beach lifeguard, I watch over the play of children, so that they don’t hurt others, deliberately or not. As a member of the military, my work is to serve the peace and not make war. How I think about the work I do contributes to my being more human. For our work which helps, serves, inspires, empowers other, we praise You, O God.

Some work is dangerous: military service, rescue missions, journeys into the unknown. Bravery is given to us when we need it. For our work which builds peace out of hostility and newness out of darkness. We praise You, O God.

The life work of some people is to organize the men and women who labor at essential jobs so they are not taken advantage of. For them, we praise you, O God.

In this world of brutal climate conditions, and brutal regimes which cause people to flee as refugees, there are women and men who answer the call to be first responders. For them, we praise You, O God.

Gracious, God, First Worker of the Universe and Lover of all You have created, as I study and learn from my life of work, help me to ask not, “Why does he/she have more than I do?” but rather to ask, “What can I be and do with what I have and am?” For the wonder of me, I praise You, O God.          

~ Sister Joan Sobala

Growing in Our Humility

Dear Friends,

Among the best insights into human life in our times is that self-esteem is essential to living fully. You and I need to know, accept and, yes, be glad about ourselves. False modesty and self-deprecation are unhealthy as well as untrue.

To recognize ourselves for who we are and what we are, to value ourselves, are all part of humility, a theme in today’s readings.

The American architect Frank Lloyd Wright was on the stand as a witness in a lawsuit. The dialogue went like this:

“What is your name?”
“Frank Lloyd Wright.”
“What is your occupation?”
“World’s greatest architect.”
“You’re not very humble, are you?”
“Sir, I am under oath.”

While self-confidence is a part of humility, self-promotion at someone else’s expense is not.

That’s the rub. That’s what the guest in Jesus’ story is doing – advancing himself at the expense of others.

Preoccupation with one’s status or position in relationship to others is not just a modern phenomenon. In Jesus’ day, the question of where to sit at a table was no idle matter. One’s honor, social significance and worth were at stake. But Jesus places no value on jockeying for position. Instead, He says to take a lower place. Let the master of the house be the one who invites his guest to a higher place if he so chooses.

How do we grow in humility? For one thing, we can make room in our lives for people who can teach us unexpected lessons. Missionaries who have gone off to foreign lands, fully expecting to bring great insight and value to the poor, often realize how much these people who welcomed them also taught them about life and God. But we don’t have to go off to a foreign land to gain insight from people of other nations. I remember a friend telling me about his own personal reluctance to engage a Pakistani cab driver in a long stop-and-go drive in New Your City. Reluctantly but truly, my friend learned much for his own life in that hour they were stuck together in traffic. Make room for people who can teach us unexpected lessons.

We grow in humility when we make room for new consciousness. It feels so secure to believe that we have the answers to life’s deepest questions sewn up. Or to believe that how we are and what we think is exactly right and we don’t have to change one iota. Humility means letting go of our absolutes about ourselves and our world.

Finally, we grow in humility when we make room for the child in us. As we grow up, we tend to leave behind in inquisitiveness of childhood, our need to belong, our sense of wonder. When we rediscover the child within, that child can lead us to see a new face of God and experience a new connectedness with all people, all creation.

Unlike Frank Lloyd Wright, we are not under legal oath to name the truth. Like him, we stand before God, before one another and before ourselves and are asked to name the truth of our lives.

What do we need to make room for?

~Sister Joan Sobala