Discerning Life's Call

Dear Friends,

Today marks a first in my blog history. I have invited one of our Sisters to share her thoughts about Good Shepherd Sunday, which since 1963 has been designated as the World Day of Prayer for Vocations. Sister Donna Del Santo has been our Congregation’s Vocation Director for many years. I thank her for sharing her thoughts today.

~ Sister Joan Sobala

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In our second reading today, we are reminded that “we are God’s children now, what we shall be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him.” (1 John 3.2)

When we listen and respond to the call to become the person God dreams for us to be, we will most resemble God. It doesn’t matter who our parents are or what resources we have, we are each uniquely called.

This message is re-enforced in our gospel when Jesus says…“I am the Good Shepherd, and I know mine and mine know me.” (John 10.13) Jesus knows who we are and who we are called to be.

Our Church needs a variety of leaders and ministers to do its work of spreading the good news of Jesus Christ, including but not limited to those called to religious life, ordained priesthood or diaconate.

While we may earnestly pray that our Church be supplied with leaders for its needs, and we may want more young people to offer themselves as priests, religious and lay leaders in the Church, we tend to exclude our own children, grandchildren, nephews and nieces. I know a young woman who went to Cornell. Her mother said to her, “Tell me now, if you’re going to be a Sister. If so, I’m not paying for Cornell!” Yet it is parents, grandparents, godparents…who are their children’s first Vocation Directors. I had gone to a wake where I met a former classmate’s mother. She told me, “I think my granddaughter Sarah might have a call to religious life. What can I do to help her?” I told her of an upcoming Come & See event and encouraged her to tell Sarah about it and she did. Now Sarah is at least exploring Religious Life.

I never thought of myself as a candidate for Religious Life either. I was a FARC, a Fallen Away Roman Catholic. I was living a good life, just not a religious one. Yet God had other designs for my life…I was so haunted by God’s call that in 1992, I entered the Sisters of Saint Joseph where I have found a home and discovered that as a Sister I would grow to be my best self, where my heart’s deepest desire would meet God’s dream for me.

Probably many of you could tell a similar story, whether you’ve chosen the vocation to be married, with or without children, or the vocation of a single life, or the vocation to be a priest, Sister, or deacon. I bet each of you can think of a moment in your faith journey where you might have resisted God’s invitation, yet…with the help of others, you were able to respond with a yes.

Are you inviting young people to discern their life’s call?

I’d like to challenge you to talk to at least one teen or young adult in the next week about what they’re thinking about their call in life. Invite them to consider religious life as a possible choice. And if you are a teen or a young adult, I challenge you to find out more about religious life or priesthood. Call or email me at Vocations@ssjrochester.org. If need be, I can direct you to another Vocation Director elsewhere. Let us know how we can be of assistance to you or someone you know on their vocation journey.

Both our Church and our world will be better served because you care enough about the Church to do this.

~ Sister Donna Del Santo

The Meaning of Christ’s Eastertime Message

Dear Friends,

The risen Christ in Luke – indeed, the risen Christ in every post-resurrection account – says and does things that bring newness out of His followers. In each case, what they saw was something beyond what was before their eyes. They experienced the divine presence, and it truly affected them.

Take today’s portion of Luke. Jesus, who before His death, healed people through His touch, now, in His post-resurrection presence, wants to be touched Himself. “Touch me,” he says. “See that I am real."

And what about this irony: that Jesus, the Compassionate Feeder of Many, asks for food. “Have you anything to eat?” He asks His disciples. “Feed me.”

Christ’s Eastertime message to His disciples then and now is the same. Touch me, Feed me. Know that I am real. I am with you. Now.

There’s a kind of knowledge in us that we store up in our minds and there’s another kind of knowledge in us that spills over into our daily living.

The kind of knowledge of Jesus the disciples had after Easter and most especially after Pentecost, made them act in new ways. After Pentecost, they would speak with power, go fearlessly into the marketplace and preach with eloquence and persuasiveness. Persecution and prison would not dissuade them, because the roots of this new way of being began in those days when Jesus met them, after the resurrection in unexpected places – where He said to them, “Touch me. Feed me.”

Take the members of the World Central Kitchen, who died during a food delivery mission in Gaza. The need to feed people compelled them. They did not wish to die. Jose Andres, the founder of the WCK, wept as he talked about his volunteers who had died. Touch me. Feed me.

The workers who died in the collapse of Baltimore’s Francis Scott Key bridge were Hispanic, working to support their families here in the States as well as their countries of origin. Touch me. Feed me.

Even in ourselves, as we consider touching and feeding others, something has to die – a certain sense of self, a way of living. Dying could even mean a different use of our time and talents for the Body of Christ in our time.

This Sunday’s Gospel gives us a week-long opportunity to consider what it already means, what could it possibly mean to us when the risen Jesus says: “Touch me. Feed me.”?

~ Sister Joan Sobala

The Intertwining of Eastertime and the Eclipse

Dear Friends,

This year, Eastertime and the total solar eclipse are intertwined. The connection is potent if we pause to consider their link for us. When Jesus died on the cross, darkness covered the land for three hours, according to Luke. He, who was to have been a light to the nations (Luke 2.32) was gone. Some would describe Holy Saturday as a day of darkness as well. The living did not experience Him, but it has been the belief of many over the centuries that Jesus had descended to the dead, doing for them what He did for the living. He brought a sense of healing and completion to their lives.

The darkness of those Holy Days was not a solar eclipse. There was no eclipse in Jerusalem at the time of Jesus’ death. Even if there were, it would have lasted for only minutes and not all those hours. The darkness at the time of Jesus’ death and on Holy Saturday was a darkness of unseeing and loss. A darkness of confusion and despair. Not being able to access Jesus as the disciples had before or would again.

Tomorrow, people will find a vantage point to begin their vigil -- hopefully by 2:07 pm, when the moon will begin its journey across the face of the sun. Beginning at 3:20 pm, for three minutes 38 seconds, that darkness will be complete. By 4:33 pm the moon’s passage will be complete.

In a few brief moments, the total eclipse will begin and then be over. Some of us might even remember to thank God for being alive and in the right place to observe this rare, heavenly phenomenon. But what does it mean for our lives?

For one thing, the sun doesn’t disappear. It simply disappears from view briefly. God is like that in our experience. How many people have said they don’t see God, experience God as they would wish. Some even say God is absent from their life.

Darkness seems a dominant force in the eclipse and in the anguish of Good Friday and Holy Saturday…but not for long. Even as the sun emerges from beyond the moon, Jesus, the Risen One, emerges from the tomb and is alive. Truly, splendidly alive. Active in His historic time. Active in our day -- in our midst.

The eclipse is a community experience. People seem to want to be together as they see the change in the sky. They want to share their experience, and afterwards, share what it felt like, what they realized, why it mattered.

Our experience of the Risen Christ is also a community event. If we can pass from the total darkness of the eclipse to resume the fullness of day, what does that tell us about Christ’s presence in the here and now?

After our experience of the eclipse, the words of John may mean more to us than they used to: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overwhelm it.” (John1.5)

What would it be like if we were as enamored of the resurrection as we are of the eclipse? In fact, we have gotten used to believing in Christ’s resurrection over time, “Ah, yes,” we say, “Jesus was raised up and lives with us forever.” We treat the Resurrection of Jesus as we treat other long-lasting loves of our lives -- without the awe that it rightly inspires.

Is it just possible that the Eastertime-eclipse could help us, as individuals and a community, to appreciate the Risen Lord that much more?

~ Sister Joan Sobala

All are Made Holy by the Risen Lord

Dear Friends,

Friday late afternoon, it was over.
Jesus was dead.
That face, so loved, was still.
His eyes, like the blind men before He healed them, had no sight.
His voice which held authority but never disdain for the people who came to Him, was silent.
“It is finished,” he had said.
The victory was won,
Though those present did not know it.

Joseph of Arimathea came to take His body to a tomb not far away.
Another Joseph.
Another safe place.

The women came with Joseph to see the place where they laid Him.
They would be back after the Passover to anoint His body for burial.
For now, all withdrew.

Jesus’ passion had begun in an olive garden.
His tomb was also in a garden.
On the third day, Jesus stepped into his future and ours.
Our future with Him is in the garden of the world.

Save us savior of the world, for by Your cross and resurrection,
You have set us free.

In these times when we are so conscious of the agony of the world, 

devastated as it is by floods, storms, human greed and uncaring,
and war with all its destruction
we do well to realize,
this day,
that Jesus is indeed…the Savior of the…whole…world,
not just the Savior of people.
Beluga whales, tributaries of the Amazon,
elk, giraffes and puppy dogs,
corn, rice, and fragrant tea,
hummingbirds, wrens and roseate spoonbills,
rock that is over a million years old,
the universes of space and crickets –
all are made holy by the Risen Lord.
That third day,
with hands that bore
the wounds of His suffering,
Jesus held close all that His Father created.
To this very day as well.

Jesus, Savior of the world reaches out to all His Father had created:
“Behold! I make all things new!” (Rev. 21.5)

“Sunday is the day of the Resurrection,
the ‘first day’ of the new creation,
whose first fruits are the Lord’s risen humanity,
the pledge of the final transfiguration of all created reality.”
Pope Francis reminds us in Laudato Si (#237).

In this time of climate crisis, warfare and
deeply felt angst,
celebrate Easter,
not just with gratitude for the salvation which Christ offers you and me.
Rather, awaken on this Easter Day
Heartfelt praise and thankfulness
For everything God has made.

May we be open to the to the grace
to feel profoundly joined
To everything that is.                      Alleluia!

~ Sister Joan Sobala

A Holy Week of Resistance

Dear Friends, 

Holy Week, among other things, is about resistance – the refusal to accept, be part of, grasp and take in what others set forth as necessary, irrefutable, true and absorbing. 

Jesus was a resistor.  

Hearing the crowd’s Hosanna, outside the gates of Jerusalem Jesus resisted the temptation to believe that the adulation of the crowd would last. Jesus resisted running away from suffering – yet in the garden, as he prayed, Jesus resisted suffering and the very comfort of knowing he was loved by his Father. Jesus resisted the night with its betrayal, the night of death and the bleakness of the tomb. He resisted bitterness as His disciples scattered and Peter denied any knowledge of Jesus. Jesus resisted the power of Rome and hostile religious authority that threatened to crush Him. 

Others involved in the event of these days marshalled resistance as well. Judas resisted the new, unexpected way that Jesus offered people salvation. He wanted Jesus to be savior his way. Peter resisted Jesus who knelt to wash his feet. Later, Peter resisted his conscience and the loyalty Jesus inspired in him. The women in their vigil at the cross and at the tomb resisted the threat of the Roman military and the jibes of the crowd. 

Resistance either comes from faith or it does not. When it does not come from faith, as we see in this week’s drama, it disappears into cowardice, shrinks from the inside, and leaves failure in its trail. Such resistance obscures the likeness of God in the resistor and offers no spark to ignite the world for good. 

But resistance that comes from faith leads to new life, a renewed confidence in God and Easter itself. Jesus’ cry on the cross shattered the last human resistance – death – forever. On Easter, the resistance of the stone, the inability of Jesus’ disciples to recognize Him and, most of all, the resistance called fear gave way to lasting, indescribable joy. 

In our world, this Holy Week and Easter, we find all these same resistances played out. US citizens in some cases, choose their own apparent good over the common good. Worldwide, medical workers resist the power of death in hospitals in Ukraine and Gaza. At the same time regimes resist being overthrown. Resistance for good, for life, or resistance that brings destruction can be experienced everywhere. That’s why we need Easter, for when Christ Easters in us and in our world, boundaries become permeable, destructive resistance gives way to harmony. We become participants in a community working for the common good. 

As Holy Week unfolds, I hope we can resist being bystanders only in an ancient drama, who, as the American Baptist writer Charles Wright noted about those unengaged bystanders: “They left no fingerprints on what their hands had touched.” 

This week, touch Christ in His Passion, Death, and Resurrection. Leave your fingerprints tenderly on His Holy Body. And touch one another with the encouragement of faith. 

~ Sister Joan Sobala 

Joseph, Our Faithful Companion

Dear Friends, 

Because Tuesday is the Feast of Saint Joseph, we pause in our Lenten thinking to praise God for the remarkable gift the Christian community has in Joseph. Pope Francis wrote a few years ago that “Each of us can discover in Joseph – the man who goes unnoticed, a daily, discreet and hidden presence – an intercessor, a support and a guide in times of trouble.”  

We are, as a world, in times of trouble right now. War, famine, the flight from danger, rampaging illnesses and cruelty give evidence of this reality. The people who rescue, restore and redeem people from their miseries are ordinary people, like Joseph. Joseph reminds us that those who appear hidden or in the shadows can play an incomparable role in life and in salvation history. In today’s language, “hidden” often translates into “invisible.” How many people do we pass by each day whom we cannot describe in retrospect. We simply didn’t see them. They were invisible to us. Yet, like Joseph, they have lives which are meaningful. In celebrating them, we reach back to Joseph. Joseph’s story is embedded in the lives of all in our day who enfold Jesus in their embrace, whether they know they are doing so or not. Hidden Joseph, invisible Joseph with work-roughened hands. Our special Joseph. 

As we live out this year, let’s all “Go to Joseph!” Let’s consciously include him in the company of all who walk with us. 

The words that have come down to us from St. Patrick, whose feast we celebrate today, could have been the very words that Joseph prayed when he was in unexpected circumstances: 

“I bind myself God’s power to guide me, God’s might to uphold me, God’s wisdom to teach me, God’s eye to watch over me, God’s ear to hear me, God’s word to give me speech, God’s hand to guide me, God’s way to lie before me, God’s shield to shelter me, God’s host to secure me…” 

Mary and Jesus never doubted the reliability and love of Joseph. As members of the Body of Christ, we too have Joseph as our faithful companion.  

~ Sister Joan Sobala

At a Distance...

Dear Friends,

A number of times in the Gospel, the phrase “at a distance” is used to describe where people stood in relationship to Jesus during His public ministry - the Gerasene demonic who lived in the cave, for example, and the ten lepers who had illnesses which also created a social stigma for them. The people whom Jesus fed on the mount came from a great distance. Jesus saw the barren fig tree at a distance. The prodigal father stood on a hilltop each day and watched hopefully for his son to appear in the distance.

But Jesus never chose to be distant from anyone who needed His love and mercy.

After Jesus was led away from the Garden of Gethsemane by the soldiers and guards sent by the high priest, Peter followed “at a distance.” Three times Peter denied knowing Jesus, but Jesus was close enough to turn and look upon Peter with love, compassion and understanding. Jesus had a way of doing away with distances.

Jesus was not distant from Peter who needed His love and mercy.

Mark, Matthew and Luke describing the scene of the crucifixion, said that the women who had followed and supported Jesus stood off at a distance. (Mt. 27.55, Mk. 15.40, Lk. 23.49) Not crumpled. They stood in silent awe of the Holy One.

John has a different take. He describes three women standing at the foot of the cross: Mary, Jesus’ mother, Mary of Cleophas, his mother’s sister and Mary Magdalen. Again standing. But not at a distance. At the foot of the cross. It would be hard to get any closer.

None of the evangelists describe any of Jesus’ male disciples as being at the scene of the crucifixion.

Passiontide is coming in two weeks. Where will you be? Where will I be? Will we be off at a distance, lacking any interest in coming closer? Will we stand apart because we don’t know that we can come any closer? Will we crumple? Or will we stand in awe at what God has done for us?

On the cross, Jesus was not distant from anyone who needed His love and mercy? Remember Dismas, the good thief? He was closest of all.

How will we turn toward Holy Week? From a distance or closer each day? Will we be at the Good Friday Liturgy of the Lord’s Passion? If we can’t, can we at least linger over the Passion narrative in the Gospel of John?

~ Sister Joan Sobala