Being Saved Together

Dear Friends,

Is there anything important in life that we have not received from someone else?

As much as we like to think so, the totally independent person does not exist. True, we make individual choices, perform independent actions and create newness in science, culture, business and more, but at the core of our lives, we are interdependent. In other words, I do not exist without a we. Today’s readings assume that interdependent people will be saved together.

Popularizations of Christianity focus on “Jesus and me.” The teachers of this way of thinking propose that our personal relationship with Jesus is all that really matters. Individuals as well as groups fight against the notion of being saved together. Some would rather be lonely than to be bound to others. Others of us fear being so lost in a community that our own personal efforts go unnoticed, unvalued. Still others fear that, in carrying others, we might get swept away ourselves. But we know differently.

So much of the history of our church has emphasized personal sin and personal salvation. In many ways, our church continues to foster these viewpoints. But there is communal sin as well as personal sin – the subtle or increasingly overt ways that society has of demeaning, denying, dehumanizing and destroying people. Sexism, classism, racism, spun out to the edges of life!

Communal sin is a reality. It thwarts compassionate thinking and action. It denies others the good we claim as our own. Only when individuals reject communal sin and move toward true reconciliation with others that salvation becomes possible for all of us in our time.

Today’s readings from Daniel and Mark tell us that as interdependent people, we will be saved together, not without suffering and misery, but ultimately, we will be saved together. It’s easy to recognize disaster. It is more important to frame that disaster in the hope God offers us is only together that God and we will overcome the threatening darkness.

The Letter to the Hebrews encourages us to

hold fast to the confession of our hope
without wavering,
for the One who has made us
a promise of life is faithful. (Hebrews 10.11-14,18)

As we make our way in life, we have a God upon whom we can depend.

~ Sister Joan Sobala

The Widow's Offering

Dear Friends,

Let us consider the gospel reading from Mark 12 that is assigned for Sunday November 10, 2024.

In the course of his teaching Jesus said to the crowds,
"Beware of the scribes, who like to go around in long robes
and accept greetings in the marketplaces,
seats of honor in synagogues,
and places of honor at banquets.
They devour the houses of widows and, as a pretext,
recite lengthy prayers.
They will receive very severe condemnation."

He sat down opposite the treasury
and observed how the crowd put money into the treasury.
Many rich people put in large sums.
A poor widow also came and put in two small coins worth a few cents.
Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them,
"Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more
than all the other contributors to the treasury.
For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth,
but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had,
her whole livelihood."

The story of the widow’s gift is familiar to us. Often our preachers focus on her generosity. They remind us to live and give in the same manner. When this story is read at the time of a giving campaign, it may be used to encourage donations. Some homilists overlook the story’s setting, audience and larger context. A much deeper reading is possible.

In this section of Mark, Jesus berates those in religious and political authority who place unjust burdens on the poor. Jesus condemns predatory and exploitative laws and systems. This is not a speech about personal generosity. Here, Jesus is concerned with morality of systems and organizations.

When we reflect on Sunday’s reading, let’s widen our focus. With the widow and the disciples, let’s take in the surroundings. With them let’s ask ourselves some questions. What are the unjust systems we see? Where are we called to generous service? Where are we called to courageous change?

~ Susan Schantz, SSJ

Seeing Our Stories in the Trees

Dear Friends, 

One of our Sisters, Melita Burley, is in her sunset years. Back in the 1960’s, she and I taught at St. Agnes High School. One snippet from our many conversations which has never left me was her appreciation of the month of November. Finally in November, she mused, we have a chance to see the shape of trees without the mask of leaves. 

Poetic and true. Some of the people you and I know and love are also in their sunset years and reveal the shape of their lives as their own leaves drift away. Their beautiful faces are marked by laugh lines, suffering borne, courage remembered and God ever present. All true, but there’s so much more in our friends and others who are moving on. The psychologist James Nelson gives us an insightful image when he says “Aging brings out all sorts of contradictions in human nature. You become unpredictable…all seven dwarfs at once.” Which of the dwarfs seem to be asserting themselves for your aging loved ones? In you? 

Last week, Sister Susan Schantz in this space offered a similar message: this month, study trees: short and spread out, soaring and slender, willowy or seemingly staid. They will tell you about your parents, family members, long-term or recently-met friends, yourself. In this liturgical season, when we remember our beloved dead, it’s good for us to have other images of moving on in life than dying. One’s potentials and limits have mirrors in trees great and small – towering redwoods and stubby trees like Japanese maples. Look for trees that are fully nourished, grown up. Matured. Look for saplings. You and your loved ones are there. 

One of our Sisters tells the story of an ugly tree that grew in the front yard of the convent. Over the course of several years, Kathy cut down this tree to be a stump, but she could never seem to get rid of its roots. Each year, new green sprouted from the stump. Finally, Kathy realized that it would be better to cultivate this seemingly unwanted tree than to let it frustrate her. It is thriving and shapelier with tender care.  

What people in your life have you wanted to chop out of existence? Have you made peace with that which would not go away? Jesus told the story of a barren fig tree. (Luke 13.8) The owner wanted to destroy it, but the gardener said “Let it be for this year. I will cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it.” The owner agreed to wait. We don’t know the rest of the story, but the point is clear; accept what looks barren in our relationships. Wait. Let them be. 

In our current repertoire of hymns is a refrain that never ceases to touch me: “All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.” As our years and our memories pile up, we can sing this song with more meaning. We sing it to God, to our treasured family and friends. We sing it to the people we have hurt and then prayed for endlessly. We sing to our deepest selves. “For age is opportunity no less than youth itself, though in another dress. (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow) 

~ Sister Joan Sobala

Tree Wisdom

Dear Friends,

Linus is always ready with philosophical remarks. Falling leaves and bare branches provoke reflection on my part, too. What lasts? What fades and dies? Where do humans fit in the cycles of creation? What can I learn from a tree?

As a young teacher, I encouraged students to choose a tree to observe for the school year. I told them to watch closely. Each week they and I then wrote a few words about what we saw. Some weeks we wrote about what the tree saw. What season? Any changes? Any growth?

This chaotic, beautiful autumn invites me to attend to the growing things. Here is a 1928 Robert Frost poem that may speak to you, too.

Tree at My Window

Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;

But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.

Vague dream head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.

But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.

That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.

~ Susan Schantz SSJ

Creating a Civilization of Love

Dear Friends,  

Today’s first liturgical reading, the 4th Suffering Servant Song, lays out the mystery of suffering that has been the experience of people from earliest times. 

If there is any group of people who suffer, it is immigrants, who leave their homelands for a whole variety of reasons. The migration of people, which filled our newscasts in the 20th century, has carried over into this new time. Immigrants come to our own land from every direction. They come bearing the scars of war, torture, hunger, disease, the loss of spouses, children, whole extended families. Therapists, pastoral and social workers bear the sorrow of migrants as witness to their worth and dignity. It is true that some criminally-minded come, but by and large, immigrants are like you and me, ordinary people seeking to build life for themselves and their loved ones. In the words of Pope Francis, our faith calls us to “welcome them, assist them, promote them and integrate them” into their new land. Pope Paul VI said that, with them, we should work at creating a “civilization of love.” Pope John Paul II urged us to create “a culture of life.” All work to be done. All arduous. All worthwhile. 

Issues of migration are ancient. In the Sacred Scriptures, Joseph, Moses and Jesus Himself were foreigners at some point in their lives. From the very beginning, the Word of God has reminded believers to “remember you were once foreigners.” (Lev.19.33) 

We sometimes forget that the U.S. is a nation of immigrants from our earliest days, yet, today, we create limiting qualifications for newcomers – where they come from and who they are, what color they are, what they believe and how they get here. As a nation, we are weak in our sense of unity with all people when we think this way. But In Hebrews, our second reading today, we hear that, in Jesus, we “have a high priest who is able to sympathize with our weaknesses.” We are not alone as we seek to be more welcoming. 

When we are closed to receiving others, or setting limits, our mindset is not the mind of God.  

Jesus, in the gospel, is the servant of His Father and does not claim power to name those who are on his right or left. Perhaps there are no special places at God’s banquet table. Maybe the immigrants whom we reject or denigrate – or, even worse, are blind to – will be with us at the banquet. Maybe even closer to the heart of God than we are. 

The liberation of many is a task that is greater than the lifetime of Jesus. It takes longer and demands more than the lifetime of any individual disciple. The community that is willing to give life and not measure the return is the community that has understood the mystery of discipleship. Migration is an opportunity to build the human community in unexpected ways. You and I are part of that community by virtue of our Baptism. Will we avail ourselves of the opportunity here and now, as we vote, reach out a hand to our neighbor, reach out our hand to God? 

~ Sister Joan Sobala

*Image above is "Welcoming the Stranger" by Michael Adams

Untangling Our Prayers

Dear Friends,

How is your prayer this autumn? When I begin my prayer, I am a woman with a tangle of yarn in her lap. Each strand, each knot, each bright unraveling is a concern I bring to God. 

The world is at war. A family friend is critically ill. Abuse victims wait for a settlement. The Synod agenda is not to my liking. Our family excitedly awaits a new baby. There is famine in Sudan. The patriarchy is thriving. This autumn day is gloriously blue and gold.

In this quiet, sacred time, I pray joy and lament, anger and peace. The colored threads clash and coalesce as I sit with them. I remember and worry. I ask for courage to walk with God and the neighbor. I hope and let go. 

Let us pray.

~ Susan Schantz SSJ

How We Decide Our Vote

Dear Friends, 

Next month on this date, the elections will be over. I hope you plan to vote. But how, in particular, will you decide your choice for president? 

What criteria will you use? Strict party line vote? On the basis of your pocketbook? On the basis of our future as a nation? On the needs of the many? Will you pray about your vote and consult teachings of your own faith tradition on thorny issues? On November 6th, who shall we be as Americans? 

Returning to Rome from Southeast Asia and Oceania two weeks ago, Pope Francis engaged in a news conference. One reporter shared that he had always written in defense of the dignity of life. “With the U.S. elections coming up,” he asked, “what advice would you give a Catholic voter faced with a candidate who supports ending a pregnancy and another who wants to deport 11 million migrants?” 

The Holy Father’s response, while not given in a formal talk, is worth considering. This is the Vatican transcript of some of his remarks.  

“Both are against life. I can’t decide; I’m not American…” 

“In political morality, it is generally said that not voting is not good. One must vote. And one must choose the lesser evil. Which is the lesser evil? [to vote for] That lady or that gentleman? I don’t know; each person must think and decide according to their own conscience.” 

Together, let’s think, talk over troubling issues, highlight the good in each candidate as we see it. 

May the choice of our vote be made with faith in God and the love of one another. 

~ Sister Joan Sobala