Continuing Life's Journey with Acceptance

Dear Friends,  

The story recounted in today’s Gospel haunts us who claim to be followers of Christ. We don’t necessarily like this story. Maybe the woman taken in for adultery was for real, maybe she was a plant. At any rate, let’s grapple with it. 

The unnamed woman’s accusers made her stand before everyone, the Gospel says. A non-person. A thing used to trap. A woman, ostensibly caught in the act of adultery, she stood before Jesus alone. No man was presented with her. Only this woman, awaiting the condemnation that would lead to her death. The stones were already being gathered.  

But Jesus had no use for the stones or the cleverness of the learned who knew how to manipulate the Law like stones. 

Tracing his finger in the sand, Jesus gave everyone time to cool down, to rethink their part in this drama. It gave Jesus time to think of the other women whom he healed, those who loved him and ministered to him. Then he straightened up. Authority fell like a mantle, softly on his shoulders and enfolded this misused woman. 

Has no one condemned you? 

Don’t you wonder what was in her voice as she answered Jesus? Surprise! No one, sir! Wonder? No one, sir. Gratitude? No one, sir. 

Go now. And sin no more. 

From this day on, she would carry with her the strength and weakness of her past. “It is not that I have reached the goal,” Paul echoes in today’s second reading to the Philippians. "It is not that I have finished my course – but I am racing toward it.” 

There is more ahead. More for Paul, for Jesus, for the adulterous woman. More for us. 

Next week, we plunge into the Passion. The agenda is before us: Will hurting, hurt, wrong, wronged people find in our believing community the acceptance that enables them to continue life’s journey, or will we turn away those who are accused and condemned as beyond hope, comfort, love or salvation? 

We all know hurting, wrong, wronged people. 

Will we accept these people and others like them? When we ask them, “Has no one condemned you?”, will they answer, No one! 

Will we accept those aspects of ourselves that others might condemn and go on? 

Because God does accept us and bids us to go on. 

The words of God in Isaiah today tell us: “Remember not the events of the past. See. I am doing something new! Now it springs forth! Do you not perceive it?” 

The newness that Jesus offered the woman in today’s Gospel is a presage of Easter. Then, all things will be made new. Let’s go on!

~ Sister Joan Sobala

Next Steps

Dear Friends,

The reading for Sunday, March 30 is Luke’s familiar story of the Prodigal Son. A young man longs to leave home and be on his own. He convinces his father to give him his share of the family wealth. The boy eagerly steps forth to a new life. The father and his second son mourn their loss but adjust to home and work life without him.

The traveler struggles and wastes away his financial and spiritual resources. He finds himself yearning for the home and family he left. He turns and retraces his steps, seeking even minimal reconciliation. The father sees him from afar and steps out to greet him. The broken traveler is welcomed and forgiven. His father celebrates the son’s safe return.

The boy’s desperate steps toward the family home call for responses from his father and brother. The father sees the struggling son from afar. He steps out to meet him, unconditionally welcoming him home and caring for the broken son. The second son holds back. There are no immediate steps toward reconciliation for him. He complains bitterly about the joyful reception of his irresponsible brother.

In reflecting on this story, I felt called to take some steps of my own. In my family and community life I have some unsettled relationships. There are people who need to know for sure that I recognize their acceptance and care. There are gestures of acceptance that I need to offer. These steps are part of my Lenten journey. Does this story call you, too, to take steps toward reconciliation?

~ Susan Schantz, SSJ

What's in a Name?

Dear Friends, 

One of the great priests of our diocese is Joseph Parrick Brennan (1929-2008), scripture scholar, interfaith pioneer, seminary rector, friend. What follows is an edited version of a homily he gave at St. Mary’s Church, Rochester, on Feb. 26, 1989, for the third Sunday of Lent, C cycle.. It is as relevant for our chaotic time as it was then. Savor the depth of the man who spoke God’s Word ardently. 

Do you ever find yourself intrigued with names? When you are driving along and see strange street names like Fitzhugh or Clarissa? Or towns like Henrietta, Chili or Greece? Who named them? And why? And people’s names are even more intriguing. When I was growing up, lots of members of my family had patriotic names, but one of my older cousins had the initial M. in her name which she never would explain, until one day it slipped out that she was born at the time when the US had won a decisive battle in the Spanish American War, so her parents called her Manila. Some young friends of mine had a baby girl not long ago. When I asked them what they were going to call her, they said. “We aren’t sure. We don’t know her well enough yet.” 

Moses was curious about names, and especially God’s name. In today’s first reading, Moses says to God “If they ask me what your name is, what am I to tell them?” After all, if he was to work for God, it would be useful to know his name. But God was evasive in his answer. God says, "Tell them I AM WHO AM." In other words, you and they already know who I am from your own experience. You know what I have done in the past, for Abraham and Sara, for Isaac and Rebecca, for Jacob and his family, and you know what I will do for you and your people. I AM ALL THESE THINGS AND MORE, AND YOU CAN’T REALLY PUT A LABEL ON ME OR GIVE ME A NAME EXCEPT PERHAPS TO SIMPLY SAY THAT I AM WHAT I AM/WHO I AM.  

Names can be intriguing and useful and even essential sometimes, but in the last analysis, we get to know people by how they act, what they do, what sort of lives they lead, how they treat the people around them, what their interests and priorities are. We are what we are, and our name doesn’t really change that, does it? 

And if that is true, then we can learn a lot about God from today’s first reading. God tells Moses: "I HAVE SEEN THE AFFLICTION OF MY PEOPLE. I HAVE HEARD THEIR CRY. I KNOW THEIR SUFFERINGS, AND I AM COMING DOWN TO DELIVER THEM." God is moved by human suffering, appalled by it, a God who sets himself in opposition to it, and a God who comes down to do something about it. He is a God who sides with all who suffer, whether it is the suffering of the hospital patient or the battered wife or neglected child, or the elderly person who can’t make ends meet on a fixed income or the homeless who wander our wintry streets and sleep where they can find a bit of shelter. He is the God who takes the side of those who, like the Israelites in Egypt, suffer from political, social and economic oppression, whether it’s in Eastern Europe, or our own country…. 

The only way God can deliver, that he can help, is by stirring us up out of our apathy and indifference, until we are compelled to share His divine compassion and love, and to share in His work of healing and deliverance.   

Most of us are probably inclined to react as Moses did and say "WHO AM I, LORD? SEND SOMEONE ELSE." 

Today’s reading from Exodus is central to our understanding of God and ourselves, because it shows us a God who cares, and asks us whether we care. A God who says, "I AM WITH YOU." in the same breath God says: "I SEND YOU." 

The big question put to us by this reading is: Will I, like Moses, accept the call and go where I am sent?

~ Sister Joan Sobala

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