The Inspiration of the Holy Spirit

Dear Friends,

Happy Pentecost – the feast of the hovering of the Spirit over all of our lives without exception!

Because the Holy Spirit is freely given, we are tempted to believe and to act as though no work on our part is necessary. Wrong! The Spirit can act within us only if we are open to meet and accept the Awakener along the way.

Susan, a cleaner I know at the YMCA, has some handicaps which she could spend her days bemoaning. No bitterness in her. No self-pity. She says her ministry is hugs and encouragement for people she meets. She says she is moved by the Nudge. Just a daily welcome of the people who come her way. I see it in her each time I am at the Y.

I visited Barbara at the hospital last week. She is vastly incapacitated by a stroke, and unable to speak. In 1986, Barbara, who was volunteering at St. Mary’s Church, made me a multi-colored filing system for my homilies and talks. In our recent hospital visit, I told her that I was still using her system to my everlasting gratitude. Her face lit up with an angelic smile. The Spirit led me to her, to say words of gratitude that have been crowded in my heart for all these years. It’s never too late to speak of the gratitude that wells up in us.

How about you? When were you in the right place at the right time? When did you ask the perceptive question and didn’t know it was the right question? When did you act courageously and didn’t know why? When did you speak and have no idea you thought what you voiced? When did you see a person become strong in outlook and action when they had been timid or uninvolved before? Whom have you seen – a public figure or someone you know personally speak and act under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit?

The Mexican poet Armando Nervo (1870-1919) gives us a picturesque sample of the vast and endless ways the Holy Spirit draws us in if we are willing:

            Alone we are only a spark, but in the Spirit, we are a fire.
            Alone we are only a string, but in the Spirit, we are a lyre.
            Alone we are only an anthill, but in the Spirit, we are a mountain.
            Alone, we are only a drop, but in the Spirit, we are a fountain.
            Alone, we are only a feather, but in the Spirit, we are a wing.
            Alone we are only a fraction, but in the Spirit, we are one with everything.

Without the Holy Spirit, God seems far away, Christ is relegated to the past and there is no message of love to be heard, no compassion to be felt in our day. With the Spirit, the universe is fresh and vital, and all creation is involved in giving birth to the new, the holy. Together, today, let us greet and celebrate the Holy Spirit who rejoices to be one with all creation.

~Sister Joan Sobala

Awaiting the Holy Spirit

Dear Friends,

This is the Sunday between the Ascension and Pentecost. A time of waiting.

Jesus had left them. They would no longer look upon that much loved face or hear that authoritative voice that could be laced with kindness or steel.

Jesus was gone. Taken up.

But this time, they were not desolate as they were when he died. Now, they were primed, ready for…Well, they were not sure what they were ready for. Jesus had a way of surprising them.

Together, they went back to Jerusalem to wait and pray for the promised Spirit. In Acts 1.15, we are told there were 120 gathered for Pentecost. These included Mary, the Mother of Jesus, the Twelve with Matthias in place of Judas Iscariot, and I wonder who else? Perhaps Mary Magdalen and the other Marys, Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, Simon of Cyrene and his sons, the soon to be deacons Stephen and Philip. Maybe the son of the widow of Naim, and the little girl whom Jesus cured and the cripple from the pool of Bethsaida and the blind men Jesus cured. It is delicious to wonder who was included and why. They were diverse, many with little savvy and very little discipline as a group. Yet these were among the ones that Jesus called His own, and as they awaited the Spirit, their prayer blended where their lives did not.

What allowed them to not fall apart were two things: Jesus’ prayer for them and His message.

The intimacy, the uncompromising gift that Jesus gave is His prayer for His disciples, is in today’s Gospel. Reread it in John 17 1-11. Read it out loud. Read it to someone else. It confirms that the ones for whom he prays in this passage are loved by Him. Jesus recognizes these disciples belong to His Father. Jesus holds them close.

His message to them of peace, unity and courage was to be spoken and lived by the whole company of believers. It was about the reign of God – already in their midst but not fulfilled. Each of them would not receive the same message in the same way. There are as many nuances to the message as there were people receiving it. When the time came, the Holy Spirit would warm and encourage them to deepen their commitment and move into action. Then they would know what to say and do.

You and I cannot be in the upper room with the other early disciples of Christ for the next week, but we can join with one another all week in praying and waiting, repeating over and over, Come, Holy Spirit!

~Sister Joan Sobala

A Mother's Impact

Dear Friends,

Recently, Ron Klain was interviewed on the Jan Psaki show (MSNBC). Ron, you may recall, has just left his post as chief of staff for President Joe Biden. A man of distinction who served in other administrations, Ron’s interview was clear, strong, thoughtful. Who would have thought how the interview would end. In these weeks running up to Mother’s Day, Jan asked Ron about his mother, who had been a major influence in his life. At 61, Ron Klain burst into tears.

Mothers, whether living or dead, have a way of doing that to us.

That got me thinking about Jesus on the cross, peering down through pain-blurred eyes at His mother who came to see Him through these last hours. I wonder if, like Ron Klain, the very sight of His mother brought tears to His eyes, too. She couldn’t touch Jesus, but He remembered her loving touch. Somehow, Jesus found the strength to give her and John the beloved disciple to each other. She would be safe in John’s care and he in hers. It always went both ways. Jesus was mindful of others to the very end.

Jesus, Ron Klain, you and I all have remembered mother-stories – how we felt with them at significant moments or in ordinary daily living. Their hair brushing our faces, their hands red from kitchen work, their disappointment in something we said or did. Mothers are memorable. Our mothers taught us about all sorts of things, including stamina – “You’ll sit there until you finish your spinach!”

Maybe we didn’t particularly like our mothers. We just rubbed each other the wrong way. On the other hand, maybe we remember the glow of approval in their eyes when we did or said something notable in public.

Mother’s Day may stress us out. We don’t know what to do with our memories, good, sad or unexpressed. What we can do is pray in thanks to our Mother God for our mothers. They carried us. Some died in the process. Without them, we would not be here, not be the selves we are.

If your mother is alive, hold her hand. Let your eyes speak for you. Words sometimes get in the way. Entrust her to Jesus.

~Sister Joan Sobala

Creating Heartfelt Disciples

Dear Friends,

Several months into 2023, the world’s population is 8 billion. Of all of us earthlings, 1.4 billion are Roman Catholic, and 2.6 billion are Christians of various traditions.

That’s a lot of disciples of Christ! Beginning with the 120 who were together for the first Pentecost (Acts 1.15), followers of Christ have multiplied greatly in one way or another over the centuries. How has that happened?

The obvious, expected answer is through baptism, when a person is welcomed into the community of believers and sets a course of faithfulness throughout life. It may be that we were baptized as infants and nobody asked us if we wanted to be. It’s also true that not every adult’s reasons for becoming Christian are pure. It might be the thing to do in order to marry or leave one’s country of origin or be accepted in a desirable lifestyle.

But how does one grow in heart-membership? That’s the most important question.

Here’s a story that can give us a sense of how it happens and what we must do to become even more heartfelt disciples.

“When the house lights dimmed and the concert was about to begin, the mother returned to her seat and discovered that her child was missing. Suddenly the curtains parted, and spotlights focused on the impressive Steinway on stage.

“In horror, the mother saw her little boy sitting at the keyboard, innocently picking our ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.’

“At that moment the great piano master made his entrance, quickly moved to the piano, and whispered in the boy’s ear, ‘Don’t quit. Keep playing.’

“Then, leaning over, Ignacy Jan Paderewski reached down with his left hand and began filling in a bass part. Soon, his right arm reached around the other side of the child, and he added a running obbligato.

“Together, the old master and the young novice transformed what could have been a frightening experience into something wonderfully creative.

“The audience was so mesmerized that it couldn’t recall what else the great master played. Only the classic ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.’”

What does this charming story have to do with discipleship?

In our church, there are many people who have become masterful in serving the community or addressing issues of justice and peace. They are recognized for their giftedness. But the truly visionary ones find successors – fledglings or disciples who have not yet awakened to the possibilities of their service to God and to others. The true master, like Paderewski, plays on one side of the newcomer’s melody, and then puts his/her arms around the newbie and offers considerable depth to what the melody-bearer has begun.

That’s the point for each of us in ministry – ordained or voluntary. To welcome, instruct, bolster by our own practices the potential in the next generation.

Paderewski accepted the unplanned presence, eagerness, and talent of a fledgling, untested before the public. He made this child’s performance soar. All the child had to do was to keep playing. And the people remembered the child, the piano master, and their song together.

Paderewski’s actions were an example of what contemporary sociologists beginning with Erik Ericson, call “generativity” – passing on to the next generation the desire and taste for, competence in, staying power to create the next phase of what is important in life.

After we are gone, there will be no one to fill the void left by our absence if we do not encourage the disciple at the piano bench.

~Sister Joan Sobala

The Voice of the Good Shepherd

Dear Friends,

Each weekend since Easter, our Gospel stories have been about His disciples recognizing the Risen Christ – readings which also encourage us and instruct us to do the same.

On the Sunday after Easter, Thomas recognized Jesus, despite his professed doubt. Last weekend, the disciples on the road to Emmaus found Him to be a stranger who accompanied them, finally recognizing Him in the breaking of the bread. And this weekend we hear about the Good Shepherd, whose voice the flock recognizes, and they follow Him.

In today’s society, many cultural, political, religious voices clamor for our attention and attempt to seduce us by their appeal – voices that tell us what really is important and what we should pursue: having lots of money to buy state of the art toys, looking beautiful or handsome, driving a powerful, expensive car, being surrounded by the right people, being number one in school or business, living in the right neighborhood or belonging to the correct political party. A long list of enticements.

In the noise made by all these voices, can we still hear and recognize the voice of the Risen Christ and what His call is?

He certainly does not call us to the rejection of this life with all we love most deeply.

The Risen Christ’s voice calls us to:

faithful love and service,

justice when needed,

compassion daily,

delight in the earth,

fullness of life.

All these things cause us to stretch, strive, reach, weigh the options of the present moment, but we know we can never achieve them fully in this life. Think of the ways we or others suffer from pain, conflict, misunderstanding, the temptation to hopelessness. We are called to the more, but the more is unachievable in this life. Is it ever achievable?

Christians have always and everywhere believed that Christ’s ultimate gift is to bring us all home to heaven. The Easter season is just the right time for us to linger over thoughts of our ultimate destiny.

Heaven is the name for the fullness of life Christ promised. It is the fruit that never becomes overripe, the face and the voice that never cease to appeal to us. Heaven is the conviction that never fades, the music that always stirs us, the love that glows and is never diminished.

Yet heaven is not some far distant planet beyond the galaxies. It is already in process in the very people and places and situations we love. When you and I pay attention to this life which we live so ardently, we are really paying attention to intimations of heaven.

By what we become and what we do, day to day, we can either enlarge our capacity for life with God in heaven or we can be satisfied with our present capacity. What’s worse, we can diminish our capacity, by living distracted lives, inattentive to what really matters.

I invite us – you and me – to take the voice of the Good Shepherd seriously and become more open to His call.

~Sister Joan Sobala

The Walk to Emmaus

Dear Friends,

Some Gospel stories appeal to us with immediacy. We identify with their message with little or no difficulty. The prodigal father and the wedding feast at Cana are two such stories. The walk to Emmaus – today’s Gospel – is a third.

Today we find two dejected disciples leaving Jerusalem by foot, late on Easter Day. They have abandoned the other disciples who are huddled together behind locked doors in the upper room. Fear and anxiety plagued all of them. We know the name of one of the disciples heading toward Emmaus – Cleophas. Some people say the other disciple was his wife, Mary. Perhaps it was you or I.

How often in our lives have we known suffering, death, destruction. We’ve known Jesus’ passion and death and perhaps have been overwhelmed by them – failing to realize that the passion of Jesus was indispensable to His journey. Like Cleophas and his companion, perhaps we, too, have felt like losers, the unlucky followers of a failed prophet.

Jesus met them, meets us on the way. No berating. No words of disappointment or rejection. No anger. Jesus is a fellow traveler.

Through their tender interaction with Jesus, something stirred in them, in us. Balm upon our weary souls. Hearts burning with love within us in moments of bleakness or weakness.

And then it was night. Time to stop to be refreshed. Even on the midst of their sadness, Cleophas and his companion were hospitable, inviting Jesus to stay with them. They would be His hosts for supper. How little did they know that soon, the guest would become the host and would offer them living bread as well.

We, too, stop to be refreshed on the way. Each week we come to Eucharist, bearing the scope of our lives. We bring our marriages, friendships, relationships that have gone bad. We bring our hopes for a troubled world, our thanks for heartwarming surprises and ordinary good health. We bring everything to a faithful God who receives us and gives us His very self in return. We know Him in the breaking of the bread.

But we do not stay at Eucharist, even as Cleophas and his companion did not stay at table after Jesus disappeared from their sight. They didn’t linger to relish what they had experienced.

Quickly, the Scripture says, quickly they went back to Jerusalem to share the good news. Joy – the taste of God’s presence – is a gift to be shared with others.

So they went – and their good news was met by the good news of the other disciples. We have seen Him!

As we consider the Emmaus story in our own lives, where do we find ourselves? Are we running away from the pain and frustration of life, from a God who doesn’t seem risen or present to us? Or are our hearts already burning inside us and we don’t know how to interpret the movement within? Have we come to the table and been fed by the Lord? Have we returned to the community of believers, ready to do our part to help the community of faith thrive?

Easter means that great reversals are possible. The disciples on the road to Emmaus knew such reversals.

If we allow it, the disciples on the road in Rochester, Henrietta, Parma, Canandaigua will know the same.

P.S. The painting of Cleophas and Mary dining with Jesus in Emmaus featured at the head of this blog is the work of Rochester artist Dick Kane. It is part of a triptych which can be seen at Our Lady of Lourdes Church in Brighton.

~Sister Joan Sobala

Letting Jesus Easter in Us

Dear Friends,

Jesus is risen and walks among us – in the beautiful, fragrant gardens we experience, in the hovels and places made ugly by misuse. Christ is risen and He is here. So now what? 

Now is the time to let Jesus Easter in us. We are at a place of choice: will we go on to a new springtime of life with God and one another or will we go back through the tomb into our old ways? Easter calls us to places we have not been.

If we do choose to go forward to meet Christ at the seashore or behind locked doors or on the road to our personal Emmaus, as His disciples did, what will be our pace? Will pace be hurried or harried, languid, decisive, measured, determined, effortless, exhausting, unsure, cautious? Will we choose to go on with Christ deliberately or will we just let life happen? Who will walk with us? People we choose or people who are given to us? Will we recognize the Risen One in them, their words, their gestures?

Will our hearts burn within us as He speaks to us on the way, as we do necessary things, cross boundaries, head down unmarked trails, come to a crossroad? In going forward mindfully, we move with others unerringly into the heart of God.

With or without noticing Christ with us, we are on the move. With Him, we are enfolded in love and enlivened toward goodness, mercy, hopefulness.

 This is the drama of grace. 

~Sister Joan Sobala