Words About Work

Dear Friends,

What work did you do? A new neighbor asked me this question some weeks ago. Like any octogenarian Catholic Sister, I drew my response from quite a long list.

Since that conversation, I have been continuing to reflect on work and what it all means. I still work every day. For any person of any age, each day is a workday since we are made in the image of a creator God. As Labor Day 2026 approaches, I offer these random insights gleaned in the past weeks.

Work connects us with each other. Consider the work of a grocery cashier or a farmer, a maintenance tech or a teacher, a fast-food worker or bus driver.

When we work, we are part of imperfect systems, and we experience personal and societal struggle. Consider the work of a police officer or a social worker, a pastor or a union organizer, a nursing assistant or a stockbroker. 

Work is our response to the dear neighbor. Consider the work of parents and Little League coaches, hospital volunteers and bake sale donors, ambulance volunteers and grandparents who care for their children’s children.

Creative work is restorative and healing. Consider the work of the home cook who brings color and flavor to the table, the songwriter who gives words to joy and pain, the muralist who transforms a building’s gray wall. 

On September 6, the United States celebration of Labor Day will call us to reflect on human labor and the rights and responsibilities of workers. During these days leading up to the holiday, join me in reflecting on our lives’ ongoing and meaningful work. 

~ Susan Schantz SSJ

Who Do You Say I Am?

Dear Friends, 

In Psalm 62, the Israelites sing to God as their rock, their salvation, their fortress and their refuge. Even in the worst of their times, the Israelites were confident that God was all these things for them. 

Centuries later, Jesus appeared among the Israelites, humbly born, obscure for so many years of his life. Did Jesus really know what people thought of him? Was he their fortress, their rock, their salvation and their deliverer? Did he want them to see and name the depth in him? Did he want to know if they found him loveable and loving? Did they know how far he was willing to go to save them from eternal death? “Who do you say I am?” Jesus asked Peter. 

We seldom, if ever, ask people that question about ourselves: “Who do you say I am?” 

For one thing, we don’t want to give people the power of characterizing us.  

But if we are honest, we really do want to know what people think about us. 

Am I among those who tenderize life? 

Do I stand ready to turn the world upside down with a smile, a pause that refreshes? 

Do I welcome budding life and never crush the smoldering wick? 

Do I have confidence that the Father will use me to help others through to life everlasting, and am I willing? 

Jesus is ours for the asking, ours to recognize for who he is. Jesus is an endless loaf of bread and a cup brimming over with delicious wine that hints of honey and the promise of sweetness to come. 

Who do we say Jesus is? Will we learn from him? 

~ Sister Joan Sobala

Summer Stories

Dear Friends,

Today’s blog post is a look back to a letter from the late Pope Francis about enriching reading. Summer reading lists are not just for students! In mid-August many of us enjoy some leisure reading. We rely on friends’ recommendations or choose a book reviewed by Instagram or tv hosts. We select a cozy mystery or a thriller or a controversial dystopian novel. 

In July 2024, the Vatican published a papal letter about reading as part of seminarians’ formation for ministry. In his opening paragraph, Pope Francis writes that his reading recommendation is really for all believers. All the baptized are in formation as disciples called to mission.

What does the Pope ask us to read? The Catholic Catechism? A Synod document? One of the four gospels? No. The Pope wants us to read novels, short stories, and poems. Why? Francis explains why in his letter. Here are some quotations from Francis, the book loving shepherd.

This is a definition of literature that I like very much: listening to another person’s voice.

… in moments of weariness, anger, disappointment or failure, when prayer itself does not help us find inner serenity, a good book can help us weather the storm until we find peace of mind.

… we should select our reading with an open mind, a willingness to be surprised, a certain flexibility and readiness to learn, trying to discover what we need at every point of our lives.

… Each new work we read will renew and expand our worldview.

… access which literature grants to the very heart of human culture and, more specifically, to the heart of every individual.

By opening up to the reader a broader view of the grandeur and misery of human experience, literature teaches us patience in trying to understand others, humility in approaching complex situations, meekness in our judgement of individuals and sensitivity to our human condition.

We develop an imaginative empathy that enables us to identify with how others see, experience, and respond to reality. Without such empathy, there can be no solidarity, sharing, compassion, mercy. In reading we discover that our feelings are not simply our own, they are universal, and so even the most destitute person does not feel alone.

And so, dear friends, whatever your current read, dive back in. Pick up a novel. Enjoy some poetry. Grab a half hour for that short story. Know that any reading touches the spirit, and that fiction has a special way of opening our hearts and minds to God and God’s creation.

~ Susan Schantz, SSJ

PS: If you feel attracted to reading the Pope’s whole letter, you can find it on the Vatican website.

Growth in Faith and the Challenge of AI

Dear Friends,  

What, if anything, do these words mean to you? 

                        Form         Deform         Reform         Transform 

Give up? They are stages/periods/phases each of us goes through over our lifetime. 

"From my mother’s womb you knit me together." (Psalm 139.13) My parents, too, formed me, as did my siblings, my neighborhood, my church. I became someone. But along the way, I encountered deforming moments – people who violated me in some way, situations that stole my dignity, my sense of wellbeing. But then, inspired by the power of the Holy Spirit, I became re-formed. Maybe closer to my original pattern, maybe quite different. But I came to recognize myself again. The deformations faded into perspective, and I valued who I am and who I was becoming. Along the way, I became conscious of something at work in me that was beyond me, what the spiritual writer Jan Richardson calls “unaccountable grace that enter in unseen …” Divine grace transforms us into the likeness of God in ways beyond what we could imagine.  

There it is. The work of a lifetime. Welcoming formation, guarding against deformation, honoring re-formation and allowing ourselves to become transformed. 

Not once and for all, but over and over again. 

If that were all we had to deal with, it would be more than enough. But in every age and every time, including ours, unexpected challenges arise. Challenges which are initially seen as benign. In our time and in our world, a clear challenge is Artificial Intelligence. Yes. AI. Certainly a tool for enhancing life but a dangerous one.  

AI lives in our smart phones. It offers us immense control over how we spend our time. With the single-minded control it offers, the theologian Ilia Delio reminds us that AI weans out of us generous thoughts of others, and compassion for them. As AI encroaches on our lives, Ilia Delio says we have no room for the grace of conversion, no room for the many transformations in God that lead us to a deeper humanity. Religion may make us promises of eternal life, but technology claims to fulfill that promise. The love of another is endangered. 

Isn’t this overreaction? Joan, aren’t you anti-progress? No and no. One day, in the not too-distant future, AI will not need humans to advance its course. It will do it itself. Humans will be left behind. Instinctively, we don’t want that, but we have work to do to guard the human heart and spirit to continue being engaged in divine transformation. 

As we live and grow, we are called to put technology into perspective and to continue to hold God consciously close, our first love.

“Who are you God and who am I?” St Francis cried out over and over again. Words worth imprinting on our hearts and repeating over and over again.  

~ Sister Joan Sobala

Miracle of the Bread

Dear Friends, 

When we read the four Gospels’ stories about Jesus feeding the crowd, we usually focus on the numbers. Such a large crowd! How much bread would that be? And there were leftovers! Artists picture overflowing baskets of bread and hillsides crowded with people. 

Sunday’s reading from Matthew 14 has more than numbers to share. Matthew tells us that Jesus has just heard about the execution of his cousin John the Baptist. Imagine the effect this has on Jesus. Elizabeth and Zachary’s son grew up with Jesus. John was a preacher before Jesus, announcing God’s plan for Israel and dramatically pointing to the coming of the Messiah. Herod’s execution of John serves as a harsh reminder of the violent resistance Jesus can expect. So, Jesus withdraws to a quiet place, separating himself even from the disciples. He makes space for grief and fear and prayer. 

The disciples interrupt this solitude. Crowds have followed the preacher and his companions. They beg for healing for their sick. The grieving, brokenhearted Jesus responds. Hours pass. The crowds are hungry. And Jesus forcefully reminds his disciples that they, too, must lovingly serve the crowd. Jesus is the preacher of God’s great love. His followers are called to embody that overflowing compassion.

We, too, gaze on crowds in need. We see them in Congo and Chicago, Iran and Ukraine, Gaza and Texas. Our anxiety about their needs resembles that of the disciples in Jesus’ story. God, help them, we pray! The miracle we need is in human hands. May we, supporting each other, take even one step into the crowd. 

In hope,
Susan Schantz SSJ

Here is one way to help:

World Central Kitchen
Donor Services Team
PO Box 96538
Washington, DC, 20090-6538

Our Love-Name for God

Dear Friends, 

“What’s in a name?” Juliet wondered in Shakespeare’s play.

But in life, we know that names are important. They signify belonging, dignity, greatness, love and devotion. Names are most often given by someone else, although sometimes we name ourselves or change our name. Talking with a man whose baby was about to be born, I asked if a name had been chosen. “We have several,” the man said, “but we have to see her first." Almost instinctively, we name people for what we recognize as true about them  – who they are or will be for us. 

We sometimes call some people by love-names, names which resonate between us and have nothing to do with people’s formal, official names. 

When we pray as we do in Psalm 88, “I will praise your name, bless your name forever,” what is the name of God that comes to our lips?

In all of our Christian rituals and prayers, we name God "Father,” because that is what Scripture says Jesus wants us to do: “No one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal Him.” (Matthew 11.27)

But Jesus never liked to be pinned down. Certainly, Jesus gave his disciples his own name for God: “Abba. Daddy.” But throughout his public life, Jesus showed them how he came to that name, which expressed his relationship with God.

We can certainly call God Father. We do.

But we can also imitate the process Jesus followed and probe our own relationship with God to arrive at our own love-name for God – a name to call God when we are talking with God in our most intimate and profound moments.

One woman wondered at this suggestion of finding our own love-name for God. Didn’t our theology require that we only call God Father, as Jesus did?

It’s not really an either-or, but rather a both-and. There are many appropriate responses to God’s astonishing presence in our life and world. We have only to trust the spontaneous praise that rises to our lips. God is the companion of our delight, our anger and frustration. God is the wind in our sails, our dream, our home. Let there be fresh confidence in the way we recognize God that arises in us. And as often as we can, let us dare to call God by His own Love-Name we carry in our heart.

~ Sister Joan Sobala

Looking for Words

Dear Friends,

The second lectionary reading for this Sunday drew me to reflection, especially on these words from Paul:

The Spirit comes to the aid of our weakness;
for we do not know how to pray as we ought,
but the Spirit … intercedes with inexpressible groanings.

Romans 8:26

There is a time in my daily prayer circle when the day’s leader invites us to share intercessions for prayer. Some days I am ready with the name of a sick friend or a job seeking relative. Many days, though, I can’t immediately put into words what personal, Church, or world concerns I am carrying.  

This experience reminds me of my days teaching religion to middle schoolers. Each forty-five-minute class included time to pray. We teachers coached the students to state their concerns and worries at prayer. We challenged them to hear and respect others’ spoken prayer. We taught them the discipline of reaching outside the classroom to pray for our families, the school community, our neighborhoods, and wider church and civic community. We prayed for pets and sports teams. We named areas of war or famine. We reminded them that God was present, all days and all ways.

I need to do some self-coaching in intercessory prayer. Instead of searching for my own words, I can listen to my friends’ intercessions at daily prayer. When I pray alone, I can simply speak aloud the names of family members and dear friends. When I read world and local news, I can offer my attention as a prayer for peace and healing. When I feel pain, I can pray for those who share that experience.

Paul speaks of our not knowing how to pray and urges us to join the Spirit’s inexpressible groanings. I imagine Jesus praying in the desert or Gethsemane. I see Kiev soldiers searching for bodies. I watch mourners at a Congolese funeral. I see an online friend ring the bell after completing cancer treatment. Our prayer circles do not always have the words. Some days, with the spirit, we intercede with inexpressible groanings. 

In hope,
Susan Schantz SSJ