Enough for the Crowd

Dear Friends, 

"Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?" Jesus to Philip, John 6

The Gospel for this Sunday highlights Jesus’s question to Philip when they face a hungry crowd. This is a question Jesus also asks us when we turn to him for help in responding to hungry children, women, and men. 

This passage reminds me of a young man I follow on Instagram. Hamada Shaqoura is a 33-year-old chef, social media influencer, husband, and new father currently posting from a refugee camp in southern Gaza. After fleeing Gaza City, he and his wife are living with their baby in a small tent. His outdoor kitchen reveals the scarcity and generosity that characterize refugee life in Gaza. 

Shaqoura is the cook for his camp neighbors. He waits hours in food lines for bags or boxes of emergency food aid. After returning to his makeshift kitchen, he surveys the diverse supply and uses hoarded spices, experience, and creativity to produce a meal. Ingredients vary by the day, and may include chickpeas, beans, rice, grain or canned tomatoes. His knowledge of Gaza City restaurants and international street food informs his camp cuisine. He prepares tacos, hummus, soup, flat bread, or falafel. 

His Instagram and Tik Tok posts show excited and hungry children watching him work. They also show a scowling chef, whose frown is for the camera, not his guests. That angry gaze, he says, is for the political and social situations that result in hungry children in crowded camps. 

Listen with me to Hamada Shaqoura, a man of faith:

We believed we could do this, despite the scarcity of ingredients and the poorer quality of the food available due to the siege on Gaza over the last 17 years. The taste may remind people of a time before the war. You can give them a sense of hope that this war will end, and we will return one day to the normal lives we deserve. And when we do, we will eat the delicious food we used to. 

~ Sister Susan Schantz

*Photo from Bon Appetit, April 2024

Respecting Our Common Humanity

Dear Friends,

Last week, Sister Susan Schantz wrote in her blog post the poignant story of two Olympians who bonded against all cultural norms of their times and homelands. Now, in a time when wars and turmoil are experienced worldwide, communities and individuals once again take a break to cheer on athletes from around many countries, who have just gathered in Paris for the summer Games of the XXXII Olympiad. This year, 37 Olympians are refugees from their countries, including Cuba, Afghanistan, Syria and South Sudan, to mention a few, but they carry their people in their hearts, nonetheless.

The opening ritual typically shows national groups followed by their flag. While they might not think of it, here is a song of faith which rightly describes these athletes, the depth of their inner truth. If you know the tune to Finlandia, sing these words that acknowledge people’s love of their homeland:

This is my song, O God of all the nations,
A song of peace for lands afar and mine.
This is my home, the country where my heart is;
Here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine.
But other hearts in other lands are beating
With hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

My country’s skies are bluer than the ocean,
And sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine
But other lands have sunlight too, and clover,
And skies are ev’rywhere as blue as mine.
So hear my song, O God of all the nations,
A song of peace for their land and for mine.

During the games, let everyone do his or her best. Jump. Sprint. Swim. Run. Let competition be intense and strong, but not malicious. May athletes reach deep into their inner resources, but not disdain the resources of others, so that, by the end of the competition, in honesty and truth, athletes may say with Paul writing to Timothy (2nd Timothy 4.7):

I have competed well.
I have finished the race.
I have kept the faith.

Let’s support all athletes, whether they win or lose. Let’s cheer for people from other lands as well as our own. Let the awareness of our common humanity stir us to have respect and encouragement for all. This way, we have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

~ Sister Joan Sobala

How Things Can Be

Dear Friends,

There are inspiring Olympic stories aplenty, each summer and winter game. There is one story that stays with me year to year because of the violent time in which it unfolded, a time like our own.

German Carl “Luz” Long and US athlete Jesse Owens competed at the 1936 Munich Olympic Games. Both medaled in the long jump event. Their interracial friendship shocked both Germans and Americans. Their bond was strengthened when Long was shunned by Hitler at the games and Owen’s president, Franklin D. Roosevelt, never spoke about the African American’s win.

The two men kept in touch during the war years ahead. Long went on to serve in the German Army (as any able-bodied German man was forced to do) but his letters to Owens expressed a longing for peace.

Before he died in a battle with Allied forces, he wrote a final letter to Jesse Owens:

I am here, Jesse, where it seems there is only the dry sand and the wet blood. I do not fear so much for myself, my friend Jesse, I fear for my woman who is home, and my young son Karl, who has never really known his father. My heart tells me, if I be honest with you, that this is the last letter I shall ever write.

If it is so, I ask you something. It is something so very important to me. It is you go to Germany when this war is done, someday find my Karl, and tell him about his father. Tell him, Jesse, what times were like when we were not separated by war. I am saying – tell him how things can be between men on this earth.

Owens fulfilled his friend’s dying wish by going back to Berlin 30 years later and meeting with Luz’s son. The two formed a friendship of their own and Owens would serve as the best man in his wedding. The families of both men keep in contact to this day.

Can any words about peace ring true this summer? Can friendships be grown in Sudan or Gaza or Ukraine? In Chicago or Milwaukee? In Paris and Lagos? In Port au Prince or Moscow? If peace is possible it will come because of relationships like that of Luz Long and Jesse Owens, who showed “how things can be between men on this earth.”

~ Sister Susan Schantz

Mending Our Heirlooms

Dear Friends, 

Today’s blog is a meditation about heirlooms. Have you one or more? Treasures from your parents or grandparents or a favorite aunt or uncle or friend? We can have them, but maybe we haven’t ever considered thinking about them in a prayerful way. 

At the beginning of each summer, I take out of storage a crocheted bedspread my mother made between 60 and 70 years ago. Having been washed and folded away over the winter, the bedspread tends to be small, shrunken to barely cover the top of a queen-size bed. Within weeks of use, it stretches out to hang over the sides of the bed and nearly to the floor.  

The ability to stretch is my first lesson from this heirloom. Physical therapists tell us that stretching helps keep our bodies healthy and supple. Creative teachers tell students to use their imaginations to stretch their thinking. The Holy Spirit inspires us to stretch our embrace of God, by recognizing life’s situations as God-moments instead of just everyday realities. 

The picture above is a small portion of that bedspread. Threads have broken – no surprise after so many years. It’s time to go over the whole bedspread carefully and mend portions that need it. This is not the first or only year I have picked up needle and thread to mend the lace. It won’t look as neat as the original, but the stitches will hold the whole together, without more loss, more integrity at that one spot. Attentive stitching is necessary. 

The need to mend an heirloom is a second lesson worth considering. Faith is an heirloom. So is the Church. Personally, and together, we have received faith and life in the Church from our ancestors. Parts of it have become unraveled, pulled apart. Maybe those parts were weak to begin with, and they need attention to restore wholeness. New threads can help. In our faith lives, what has given way? What needs a mender’s hand? Can we do the mending ourselves or is the work in need of a more skilled hand? Who do we know who can help? And even more basically, do we even want to restore it? 

Finally, I am tempted not to use the bedspread – just keep it in storage. It could fall apart beyond mending. It’s a chance I wonder if I want to take. Should I just keep it as part of my past? I could glance at it every now and again when I am looking for something else. But treasured heirlooms, which are used, hold a greater measure of meaning than stored heirlooms. Use and mend. Use and mend. Use and mend. Visible. Touchable. 

The third lesson from our heirlooms is to use them and mend them. Let faith and the Church, ever ancient, ever new, be out in the open, whatever that might mean. Add your own stitches. Mend it over and over again. Make it real for the next generation. 

Take time this week to find and bring out into the open your personal heirlooms. Hold them and wonder “What do they say to me of faith and life?”  

Bye for now. I’m off to mend my heirloom. 

~ Sister Joan Sobala

Refreshing the Word

Dear Friends,

Have you ever been with family or friends when someone embarks on a retelling of an old story? You might respond by settling in for a pleasurable reminiscence. Or you might drift off a bit because you know how this one ends. Maybe you get restless and wish you had left the room before the storyteller got started.

Sometimes even a Sunday Gospel story feels a bit stale for me. I hear the familiar words and I remember the sequence of events. I may even recall a preacher’s interpretation from another year. I already know what’s coming for Jesus. The Good News doesn’t seem to spark a response. I’ve heard this one before. My mind wanders.

How can we experience a very familiar story as a fresh sacred text? At a Sunday liturgy, two designated ministers are there to help us hear the scripture. The reader and the preacher have a role, but it’s our work, too. Each of us is a minister of the Word. Let’s read the Sunday, July 7 reading from Mark, a familiar story about Jesus’ rejection in his hometown.

Mk 6:1-6

Jesus departed from there and came to his native place, accompanied by his disciples.
When the sabbath came he began to teach in the synagogue,
and many who heard him were astonished.

They said, “Where did this man get all this?
What kind of wisdom has been given him?
What mighty deeds are wrought by his hands!
Is he not the carpenter, the son of Mary,
and the brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon?
And are not his sisters here with us?”
And they took offense at him.
Jesus said to them,
“A prophet is not without honor except in his native place
and among his own kin and in his own house.”
So he was not able to perform any mighty deed there,
apart from curing a few sick people by laying his hands on them.
He was amazed at their lack of faith.

Here are some suggestions for rekindling the fire and light of this Gospel story. I’ve included some of my own thoughts in italics.

• Read the story the night before, or while you sit and wait for Mass to start.

• Read it aloud to yourself, as if you were reading the story to an eager child.

• Imagine one of the story’s scenes in your mind as if you were photographing or sketching it.

• Live the events of the story as if you were one of the characters. For me: A childhood friend of Jesus. His mother. His Torah teacher. A new disciple.

• Recall a quote that touches you. For me: A Nigerian proverb: Home is not where we live. Home is where we belong.

• Search your own mental playlist. Are there favorite hymns or songs about homecoming? I think of the Cheers TV theme song.

• Are there words from a favorite poem? I love these lines: Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in. Robert Frost’s 1915 poem The Death of the Hired Man.

• Is there a book title that resonates with this story? For me there are two: Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi and You Can’t Go Home Again by Thomas Wolfe

Of course, the next step is to spend time with the story, holding it close with these other words that give us a new lens. Perhaps some of the above deep reading approaches will help you as they do me. You may want to share an idea or two in the comments. Always open to God’s good news, we’ll refresh the stories. The Word is very near.

~ Sister Susan Schantz

One Nation Under God

Dear Friends,

This Thursday, our country celebrates its 248th birthday. How do we honor our nation which has been designed as a place of liberty and justice for all, yet has seemingly lost so much of its singular focus? Some would argue that the United States never did have a clear sense of solidarity. Mountains of evidence of inclusion and exclusion exist, but so do even higher mountains of people working together for the common good, for ideals that are worth our personal dedication and for harmony. God has been in the mix. “One nation under God,” we say in the pledge of allegiance. But whose God? Everybody’s God. And how much do we personally and as a people recognize God in our midst?

On this coming holiday, let’s be open to and invite one another to:

Be who we are, who we say we are. Sit a bit and think about the goodness we have seen and known, the good people we are. We are so often negative in our outlook and words. BE.

Be real. Honest and sincere, not cheaters who cut corners every chance we get.

Be aware. We have periods of ebb and flow, as individuals and as a nation. We surge toward an idea, a leader, a style, a song, but then we flow on, or those things that grabbed us yesterday flow on. What is lasting, anyway?

Be human. That means to recognize goodness and vulnerability in ourselves and others. As Vespatia says to her husband Victor in Anne Perry’s A Christmas Gathering, “Can you really forgive, if you have no need to be forgiven?” So much forgiveness and reconciliation is necessary in our land.

Be careful. Respect boundaries. Treat others’ gifts and lives with honor.

Be connected. Our blood can be used for other people when they need it. Sharing blood is a symbol of all the things we share.

Be humorous. Pope Francis recently told 105 comedians from many nations that “they had the power to spread peace and smiles.” The Pope highlighted “the unique role of laughter in bringing people together in the face of conflict.” We can’t all be comedians, but we can spark laughter instead of anger.

Be quiet. We don’t have to have the last word, or a handy rebuttal to every argument. We do need to speak when needed and to know when not to.

Be happy. Happy that you are here and that you belong to a land that is feeding so many parts of the world as well as caring for its own. We can rejoice because we live in the land of the free because of the brave.

Happy 4th and happy 248th!

~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>>~>~>~>~>~

On another topic, after 11 years of weekly blogs, I am happy to welcome as a writing partner Sister Susan Schantz. A Sister of Saint Joseph with whom I have lived and worked over many years, I know the convictions of her mind and heart, her talent for writing and staying power. Susan and I will be alternating weeks beginning next week. I am looking to her insights for my own personal refreshment as well sharing them with you.

~Sister Joan Sobala

Getting Through the Storms of Life

Dear Friends,

I once read that in any large gathering at least 25% of those present are dealing with some serious situation in life. It might be health-related, a marriage difficulty, challenges of their children, mortgage payments, job security or, if you’re young, challenges with parents. You may be facing some difficulty that seems insurmountable. That’s why today’s readings may resonate with you.

Today’s first and third readings are about the storms that threaten life. We read of upheavals in the sea. In the Hebrew Bible, only God had power over the sea. We see this in Job, where God directs the movement of the stormy sea:

Thus far shall you come and no farther.

Here shall your proud waves be stilled.

After the storm described in today’s Gospel, Jesus showed God’s very power over the sea. After the storm, the psalmist concludes with awe “God hushed the storm into a gentle breeze.”

The storms in these readings catch listeners’ attention. They deal often, if not daily, with personal, communal storms. God may seem to be asleep in the Gospel, silent and indifferent to the fear of the moment. Afterwards, the people who experience the storms experience new potential, fresh starts, new insights.

Knowing and believing that God is present in our most ferocious storms can give us an unexpected serenity, a calm that no storm can disturb.

The point of these readings can’t simply be that God will create smooth sailing for us if only we ask. Job knew better than that, as did Mark, the writer of today’s Gospel. So do we.

We like immediate responses to our prayer, but to live through the aftermath of storms, we need patience. Patience in our longing and patience in our belonging. Patience in our actions and in our waiting. Patience in our minds and our impulses.

The storms of life that engage us are sometimes interpersonal. Sometimes, we face life’s societal hardships, like the migrants fleeing from oppression in their homelands. Sometimes, our problems are daily hassles with the computer, with processing the next steps at work, small storms which are just too much for us to bear with equanimity.

In each storm that threatens to swamp us, here are a few things that might help:

Practice deep-breathing. Teach your body and mind to become calm when there is no calm around you.

Include God in your consciousness, for God does not abandon us as we are seemingly overwhelmed.

See your situation with new eyes. Treasure the residue of the storm.

Be grateful when the storm has passed.

Know this for sure. God doesn’t jump ship. God is your co-pilot as you steer the craft in the storm.

~ Sister Joan Sobala