Time in the Desert

Dear Friends,

We began this Lent with a Sunday reading about Jesus’ time in the desert. We hear this story each year and imagine Jesus’ struggle with those temptations orchestrated by Satan. We think of the bible’s Exodus stories, too. Moses walked God’s people through decades of desert. They all traveled in hope, a hope threatened by fatigue, doubt, and dissent. Where is desert for us this 2025?

Desert is certainly close to home. We each have our own desert places. Like Jesus, we are tired and hungry, hungry for peace, for direction, for God’s presence. Like the traveling believers in Exodus, we are troubled and quarreling, beset on all sides by danger and despair.

In his poem, Desert Places, Robert Frost describes this emptiness:

I am too absent spirited to count;
The loneliness includes me unawares.
….
I have it in me so much nearer home
To scare myself with my own desert places.

Desert is a fearful place of isolation and longing. As believers who are traveling in good company, we ask:

• Who am I called to be in a time of violent conflict?
• How is God nourishing my heart in this lonely time?
• Who needs my care during these desert times?

Traveling in hope,

Susan Schantz SSJ

Seeing Anew this Lenten Season

Dear Friends, 

Lent began last Wednesday. Perhaps you are already immersed in your own way of focusing these six weeks so that they are spiritually uplifting and deepening to you. The facts of life in these United States and in our world at this time may already give you more than enough to keep you prayerful and disciplined. But another framework could be useful. For this, let me invite you to turn to Jesus as he appears in Mark 8. 22-26.  

Jesus came to Bethsaida, where the locals brought Him a blind man. “They begged Him to touch him. Jesus took the blind man by the hand and led him outside the village. Putting spittle on his eyes, Jesus laid His hand on him and asked, ‘Do you see anything?’ Looking up he replied, ’I see people looking like trees and walking.’ Then He laid hands on his eyes a second time and he could see clearly; his sight was restored and he could see everything distinctly. Then He sent the man home and said, ’Do not even go into the village.’” 

Jesus took the man by his hand. This Lent, will you allow Jesus to take you by the hand and walk out of the town – out of the world – you have been living in? In this world you have known, are there some things you have clung to and been blind to? Only in daring to walk hand in hand with Jesus will you be able to see how to be faithful to God in your daily life as you go forward. Jesus does not berate you for not seeing. He walks with you to a new place and freshens your eyes and heart. God is faithful to you. 

I see people looking like trees and walking. Clarity of vision does not come all at once. Shapes and meaning and focus come only with trusting Jesus to repeat the process with you until you can see what is truly present. God sustains us in the process. 

Do not even go back into the village. That sounds like a throwaway line, except, that for him, what did the village represent? Was it where he was born blind? Became blind? The place where people took his blindness for granted and thought he did not have the capacity or desire for clear vision? All around us – in our workplace, neighborhood, recreation areas, are people who do not see, by choice or by happenstance. Maybe here we ourselves chose to fit in and not see. Go instead to a place where you are welcomed, loved, accepted. Where you can grow. And see anew. 

These three things: to take Jesus’ hand which He offers us, to be patient with the work of seeing anew, and not go back when we have been living a blind life. Together, these make up an effective way of approaching this season as we prepare for our Easter Lord who comes to us beyond the boundaries we have allowed between us. 

~ Sister Joan Sobala

What a House Holds

Dear Friends,

Twenty years ago, I spent a day at poet Emily Dickinson’s home in Amherst, Massachusetts. I stood on holy ground in her lovingly restored little garden. I climbed the stairs she used. I loved being in the bedroom where Emily wrote. I touched her desk. I looked through the window at the leafy path that led to the house where her dear friend and sister-in-law lived with Emily’s brother. Even now, when I read one of Emily’s poems, I am sitting with her for a while in her Amherst room. 

Rooms are more than walled spaces. All the walls become history walls, infused with the spirit and energy of the people they shelter. We Sisters of Saint Joseph are living through a planned remodeling of our French Road Motherhouse. For close to twenty-five years this building has been a Congregational ministry headquarters and residence. The reconfiguration of some of our common areas is stirring up memories and feelings. 

• Every four years, we’ve elected our leaders here.
• We have such wonderful Christmas masses in the Chapel.
• Staff and volunteer service awards are the best parties we have.
• Anniversary celebrations of Sisters and Priests are so joyful.
• Funeral services fill the Chapel with memories, music, and friends.
• Family and friends are always welcome guests.

You’ll still feel the heartbeat of the family of Joseph here. Walls and halls will pulse with even more stories as we welcome old and new friends. 

~ Susan Schantz SSJ

Choosing Reconciliation Over Retribution

Dear Friends, 

Know who Abishai is? Probably not. Abishai is not a well-known figure in the bible, but we read about him every three years in Ordinary Time. It’s a valuable thing to linger over him today, because Abishai continues to be part of our everyday world. We’ll recognize him as this blog unfolds.

Abishai was David’s military advisor.

King Saul and young David were in conflict, battling over who would lead the kingdom. Saul was about to kill David, when David fled. Saul’s army pursued David, but couldn’t find him. Then, David had a stroke of luck. David and his friends came upon Saul asleep, unguarded and defenseless.

“Kill him!” an elated Abishai counseled David, but David refused. Saul was his king, the Lord’s anointed one. Trusting in God’s wisdom, David left the task of dealing with Saul to God.

Can you imagine how Abishai might react to David? “What is the matter with you? Are you a fool, David? Saul will kill you if he can. King? What kind of king is Saul to you? Act now, David. Kill Saul!”

But David chose to be guided by mercy, justice, and compassion.

But during his encounter with the sleeping Saul, David took Saul’s spear to show that he could have killed the sleeping king if he chose to do so, but that he, David, preferred reconciliation to violence. Saul was moved by David’s actions, and a kind of restless peace was born between them.

In today’s Gospel, Luke reports that Jesus sided with David rather than Abishai. Jesus urged His followers to use the spiritual tools of mercy, compassion and justice when involved in conflict. In fact, Jesus encourages us to use God-like generosity toward those who do wrong to us. And more, Jesus tells us to do good to them and for them. Jesus urges us to break the cycles of violence, hatred and evil by returning compassion for violence, love for hatred and good for evil

What a seemingly impossible path to walk. The world seems full of Abishais who tell us to get them before they get you. 

In the United States today, we experience the call to retribution against past governmental leader and positions. Subtle or maybe explicit violence.

Jesus and David would have it be otherwise.

But if these readings are a lesson for world leaders, they are also for you and me.

Today’s readings ask us to look at our own words. Do they hold hate, disdain and contempt for others because of real or perceived wrongs? What do we see when we study our tendencies to be aggressive and violent in our relationships?

My own personal Abishai whispers to me: “Show them that they can’t get away from being mean to you.”

Abishai becomes active in me when I hit back.

Each of us needs to learn from our contemporaries who have internalized the spirit of today’s Gospel passage – community leaders who work hard so that Jesus’ teaching will be a living force in the world. Begone Abishai.

Come to me, Jesus. Stand with me, David.

Help me not to judge, not to condemn. Help me to pardon, give, love, be compassionate in word and action.

~ Sister Joan Sobala

The Refreshing and Cleansing Waters

Dear Friends,

This Sunday’s first reading from Jeremiah 17 imagines the faithful believer:

Blessed is the one who trusts in God, whose hope is in God.
That one is like a tree planted beside the waters
that stretches out its roots to the stream:
it fears not the heat when it comes; its leaves stay green;
in the year of drought it shows no distress but still bears fruit.

And the response from Psalm 1 echoes this image:

That one is like a tree planted near running water,
that yields its fruit in due season, and whose leaves never fade.

The Hebrew scriptures often draw our attention to refreshing water:

Beside restful waters he leads me to revive my drooping spirit. Psalm 22
I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground. Isaiah 44
And you will be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water whose waters do not fail. Isaiah 58

Cool, clear, refreshing water. Water that cleanses and heals and energizes. Here the weak and thirsty can drink. Here the journeying pilgrims gather for restoration. Somehow people who love God bring water to dry places. Humans and God work in tandem. Moses compared his own God-given words to water:

May my teaching drop like the rain, my speech condense like the dew; like gentle rain on grass, like showers on new growth. Deuteronomy 32

During this time of social and political unrest, we could pray for people in leadership in all sorts of arenas, that God would enable them to speak words that strengthen and unify, words that welcome and inspire. Let us pray for each other, that our words be like a gentle rain refreshing our fellow pilgrims.

In hope,

Susan Schantz SSJ

The Power of Our Stories

Dear Friends,

Much of winter is still ahead of us. On cold, snowy nights, shut off the telly, put away social media devices and tell stories: each other’s, well-loved stories, stories with surprise endings, stories that helped shape us. Enjoy and treasure your stories of life, faith, adventure.

We live a life-long story, and yet, if asked, we would not be sure that our own stories are interesting at all. It’s only in the telling of our stories, we begin to see their value and worth.

We also have a wealth of family stories. My four-foot eight Polish peasant grandfather, conscripted into the Russian army, deserted, and somehow made his way to Lackawanna, New York. How did that happen? I had no idea, before hearing this story as a child, that my little Grandpa had such courage!

We tell stories that have impacted others in the world, stories about what happened at school or work. Travelling, seated next to strangers, we often exchange stories. Sometimes, we reveal to strangers whom we will never see again parts of ourselves we don’t easily share with people closer to us: incidents, near-misses, daydreams. “I remember once…I had an experience something like that…”

Beyond those of our own lives, we like to hear other stories, see stories unfold on TV or in books, or at the movies. Stories make meaning the way that analysis or synthesis can’t. Where did the world come from? Why are there people? Why don’t snakes have legs? Why do the living die? As we read the lives of others in biographies, we clarify our own convictions, and have new tools to examine our own lives. Here’s a thought: Go where you can hear the stories of migrants and refugees and be awed. To be human is to have a story to tell.

The much admired writer, Elie Weisel, once remarked “God created people because he loves stories.” We know that Jesus was a remarkable storyteller. He used the stuff of ordinary life, introduced strangers into the story who became unexpectedly central to the meaning of the story and, as we know when we study them, these parables say more than they seemed to intend, to this very day.

God is not captured for once and for all in our human stories, but God is surely revealed in our stories, if our eyes and hearts are open.

The philosopher Kierkegaard went even further to say “the only real answers to religious questions are in the telling of a story.” So dare to explore religious questions in this seemingly simple way. Tell and enjoy the power of stories in your life.

~ Sister Joan Sobala

The Feast of the Presentation

                                                                                                                        (CNS/Lola Gomez)
Dear Friends, 

This Sunday, the feast of the presentation, we read from Luke 2. The child Jesus had been circumcised soon after birth. Forty days later his parents present him at the temple. An old man named Simeon notices the child and his parents. Luke 2 tells the story.

25 Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was on him. 26 It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. 27 Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts. When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the Law required, 28 Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying:

29 “Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
you may now dismiss[a] your servant in peace.
30 For my eyes have seen your salvation,
31 which you have prepared in the sight of all nations:
32 a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
and the glory of your people Israel.”

Luke wants us to know that Joseph and Mary are faithful Jewish parents, initiating their child into their faith by bringing him to the temple. Their arrival at the Temple is noticed by a believer named Simeon. Deeply prayerful, he has been longing to see the consolation of Israel. He asks to hold the baby. He takes him in his arms and praises God.

I am moved by this old man, the one who prays despite disappointments, social and religious upheaval, and political oppression. I, too, am old, and can imagine that baby in my arms, his warmth and small but solid weight. God comes to us in every child.

The above picture of Pope Francis speaks of an old person’s hope as well. This man knows God. This man has challenges to his hope. This man knows that God can encounter us in a child. Francis’s homily on the 2024 feast of the presentation includes these words, an echo of Simeon’s song.

He is presented to us as the perennial surprise of God;

concentrated in this child born for all

is the past, made of memory and of promise,

and the future, full of hope.

May our own hope be refreshed,

Susan Schantz SSJ