Reflection: Christmas 2010
As we have been sending prayers and reflections throughout the Advent season, hopefully you have found your heart and spirit being prepared for this great miracle of the incarnation that is upon us. This is the time when we take a moment - or many moments! - to truly hold in our hearts and hands the truly awesome mystery of our faith that is God made flesh. As you think about this incredible, divine grace among us, we hope you continue to reflect on this mystery and the implications of this gift of Christ incarnated - how our lives are enriched by his presence on earth, and simultaneously, how very much the reality of his walking the earth is a call to action in our lives.
That being said, we offer you this Christmas prayer as both inspiration of faith and inspiration of movement in the call to action you are answering as Incarnate Word Missionaries, and will continue to answer in varied, unique and magnificent ways throughout your lives.
The Work of Christmas by Howard Thurman
"When the song of the angels is stilled, When the star in the sky is gone, When the kings and princes are home, When the shepherds are back with their flock, The work of Christmas begins: To find the lost, To heal the broken, To feed the hungry, To release the prisoner, To rebuild the nations, To bring peace among brothers, To make music in the heart."
May this Christmas season be full of great rejoicing, great peace, great harmony and great inspiration in your lives, and wonderful recognition of the Christ child incarnate within you.
Reflection: Week Three of Advent
For those of you who might not know, the third Sunday of Advent is referred to as Gaudete Sunday. Gaudete is a Latin word meaning “Rejoice.” As you may be familiar with, we use a rose-colored candle in the Advent wreath for this third week, to symbolize the exciting proximity of Christ’s coming into the world.
Below is a brief reflection for this third week of Advent - the words of Oscar Romero from one of his homilies during the Advent season of 1978, about a year and a half before his death/martyrdom. He said: “Some want to keep a gospel so disembodied that it doesn’t get involved at all in the world it must save. Christ is now in history. Christ is in the womb of the people. Christ is now bringing about the new heavens and the new earth. Christ became a man of his people and of his time: He lived as a Jew, he worked as a laborer of Nazareth, and since then he continues to become incarnate in everyone. If many have distanced themselves from the church, it is precisely because the church has somewhat estranged itself from humanity. But a church that can feel as its own all that is human and wants to incarnate the pain, and hope, the affliction of all who suffer and feel joy, such a church will be Christ loved and awaited, Christ present. And that depends on us.”
I invite you to reflect upon Romero’s words. What does these “new heavens and the new earth” look like that Christ brings to us? Have we – the church – estranged ourselves from humanity? How? How can we join together to reintegrate ourselves – the church – into the real humanity around us? How do we feel all that is human, how do we incarnate the pain, hope, affliction, suffering, and joy? And how do we maintain ourselves strong and faithful amidst all that is human? We must feel as our own all that is human, but how do we do so without becoming so overwhelmed that we are paralyzed by the raw humanity with which we engage? What role does community play in the self-care and simultaneous faithfulness to the pain? How are we – or how can we become - a “church that is Christ [incarnate] loved and awaited”?
Reflection: Week Two of Advent
Today, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception – and again in a special way this coming Sunday on the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe – we are celebrating the feast of Mary – the mother of Christ (obviously!) and the patroness of the Americas. We often hear about Mary in conjunction to her birth without original sin. This is an important aspect of Mary to reflect upon, sure, but feminist theologian Elizabeth Johnson gives us something a bit different to reflect upon when we think of and pray to Mary: that she was very much like any one of us, endured the many struggles of being a woman and a mother (and in particular in a strongly patriarchal society), and that while we note that she was born without original sin, it wasn’t the sin that came first; as E. Johnson says: “Grace is more original than sin.”
We take special time to honor her, as she is the vessel through which ‘the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us.’ Mary truly carried the message of the Incarnation, and we celebrate and honor as both the mother of the Son of God and our own mother, and ask her to intercede on our behalf.
When you have the time and energy, reflect upon the excerpt below from Elizabeth Johnson’s book: Truly Our Sister: A Theology of Mary in the Communion of Saints. (pages 112-113) “Mary did not have the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception framed and hanging on her kitchen wall, assuring her that she was sinless and free from error. Appreciating this historical slant, I would add a theological point: even if she did, it would not lift her feet off the ground. Understood as the personal, living, self-communication of God’s Spirit to Mary at the outset of her life, the Immaculate Conception does not extract her from the challenges that come with life on this planet. Rather, in its peculiar, time-conditioned way, it fundamentally asserts the living God’s self-gift to this woman who is called to a special vocation in salvation history. In so doing, it signals that when it comes to God’s intent, grace is more original than sin. To sum up: I propose a pneumatological interpretation of Mary, the historical, graced, human woman, that remembers her as our companion in the communion of saints. Entirely particular, lived out within the constraints of first-century patriarchal society, her life with its concrete details in no way functions as culturally normative for women’s lives today, lives racing along in a world she never dreamed of. But the memory of her partnership with God through the power of the Spirit can create liberating energies for justice, especially given her low estate as poor and female. In all her difference Miriam of Nazareth [Mary] abides in the circle of disciples as our sister, a poor woman of the people to whom God has done great things; a young Spirit-filled Jewish woman finding her joy in God; a woman vulnerable to violence in a patriarchal setting; a friend of God who made her own difficult choices with courage; a prophet whose word announced the awesome changes God’s coming would bring about in this world; a God-bearer who had divinity dancing under her heart in developing human flesh; a married woman with a questioning mind who pondered what God was doing in the midst of her life; the mother of the itinerant preacher Jesus, terribly worried about his ministry; a middle-aged woman whose agonized grief over the public execution of her firstborn connects her with legions of bereaved women; an elder in the budding community of the church. She kept faith. We remember her. We connect her story with our own amid the searching narrative of the human race in its history of suffering and hope. We thereby find courage to enact the critical dream of God for the world. The wager I am making at the outset is that interpreting Mary in relation to the Spirit as a graced, concrete historical person amid the company of saints in heaven and on earth crafts a theology capable of promoting action on behalf of global justice and liberation, particularly empowering to the flourishing of women, coherent with elements of biblical, classical, and conciliar teaching, and productive of religious sense for our time.”
Take time to connect with Mary on a personal level: how are you like Mary? How do you relate to her in the multifaceted ways in which she lived on this earth? How do you, like Mary, “enact the critical dream of God for the world”? How do you bring the Incarnation into daily life, with all its struggles, challenges, joys and celebrations? Think about Mary’s counter-cultural presence in society, and your own counter-cultural presence in our world. What are the similarities? Differences? How can/do you gain strength from her example of her “yes” to God? What does your own “yes” look like, and how do you continue to live that yes – amid the challenge, suffering and pain of society – every day with joy and hope?
Reflection: Feast of St. Nicholas In the United States there is nothing more familiar to us during the Christmas season than Santa Claus. But he has not always been the jolly giver of gifts! Santa Claus’s roots lay in the history and subsequent stories of St. Nicholas, a fourth-century bishop of Myra, a city in Lycia, a province of Asia Minor, now Southern Turkey. Not much is known about the real St. Nicholas but the stories that have come down to us always speak about his generosity, kindness and concern for people who are poor. As the story is told he would give sacks of gold to children in need and he would do it in secret, never revealing his identity. He became known as the patron saint of children. Gradually all over Europe the feast of St. Nicholas came to be celebrated on the anniversary of his death, December 6. We have the Dutch settling in New Amsterdam, now New York City, to thank for the St. Nicholas traditions that emerged in our country. The Dutch called him Sinter Klaus. But here is the rest of the story. Prior to the 1820’s when the poem the Night before Christmas was written, St. Nicholas Day, was seen as a day of judgment, the naughty and nice theme that we still hear echoing in the poem. St. Nicholas as a bishop was identified with the authority to make judgment, thus Christmas was a little bit of a dress rehearsal for The Final Judgment. But the judgment was on those who failed to live up to their social obligation of charity. This was a challenge for everyone but especially the rich. In time the children in well-off households replaced those who were poor outside their house. The household children became the symbolic objects of charity and deference, losing the mandate for the social obligation of charity. Christmas is a beautiful season, a time when memories are created of families coming together and gifts are exchanged. In my household growing up, I expected to receive gifts marked “From Santa Claus.” It always was something very special! The presence of Santa Claus in our cultural celebration of Christmas gives us great joy and not something we should put aside. But what would be great is for us to remember the other story, the one about St. Nicholas, the generous giver, the one who reached out to those in need. During this season let us remember that the greatest gift we receive is Christ, the one who has come into our world so that we might have life and have it abundantly. Staying focused on this is important. Thankfully, throughout the season, we have saints that model for us what it means to follow Christ. Perhaps, as one author said, we can remember the lesson taught by St. Nicholas’ legendary charity, look deeper at our approach to materials goods in the Christmas season and seek ways to extend our sharing to those in real need. (Taken from Advent reflections, Catholic Charities USA)
Some thoughts for reflection as we enter into this second week of Advent…
St. Nicholas was known specifically for his love of children, focus on those in real need, and the humility with which he served. How do you see yourself relating to these missionary aspects of St. Nicholas? To other parts of his being and life?
Some of you may geographically be in places where the commercialism of Christmas is less prominent – others of you are in places where materialism and commercialism reign. How can we come together – near and far – to honor and celebrate the real “reason for the season” – the Incarnation? How can we encourage those around us, as well as our loved ones in other cities and countries, to step back from the materialism of our society and into a place of humility, charity, and justice? How can we constantly challenge ourselves to live more simply, walk more humbly, love more tenderly and act more justly with our God?
Reflection: Week One of Advent
I would like to pass along a segment of a reflection for the beginning of Advent. It reads: In one of Archbishop Oscar Romero’s homilies for Advent he writes: “Some want to keep a gospel so disembodied that it doesn’t want to get involved at all in the world it must save. Christ is now in history. Christ is in the womb of the people. Christ is now bringing about the new heavens and the new earth… Advent should admonish us to discover in each brother or sister that we greet, in each friend whose hand we shake, in each beggar who asks for bread, the face of Christ. They are Christ, and whatever is done to them Christ will take as done to himself. This is what Advent is: Christ living among us.” -Rev. Mr. Richard Sage, Executive Director, Catholic Charities, LaCrosse
Rev. Sage’s use of Romero’s words is timely and challenging, but also full of great excitement and enthusiasm for the season of Advent and the discover of Christ among us. I would invite you to reflection upon Romero’s words… do you disembody the gospel in your daily life? What does it look like in your current moment, in your site of mission, to be and recognize and witness Christ brining about the new heavens and the new earth… what do these look like? What is this vision made manifest? What are we working for and what is already around us… the already/not yet vision of God’s kingdom? Are we seeing Christ in all whom we meet…. In our receiving communities, in our missionary communities, in our families and friends far away, in ourselves? How is this time of Advent admonish you personally… challenge you? Will you accept that challenge?
This reflection comes from an online Advent calendar of daily reflections offered through Catholic Charities USA. Should you like, you can access the daily reflections here: http://www.catholiccharitiesusa.org/
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Reflection: November 2010: Thanksgiving
Taken from Gracias! A Latin American Journal, by Henri Nouwen
“Gratitude is one of the most visible characteristics of the poor I have come to know. I am always surrounded by words of thanks: ‘thanks for your visit, your blessing your prayer, your gifts, your presence with us.’ Even the smallest and most necessary goods are reasons for gratitude. This all-pervading gratitude is the basis for celebration. Not only are the poor grateful for life, but they also celebrate life constantly. A visit, reunion, a simple meeting are always like little celebrations….All of life is a gift, a gift to be celebrated, a gift to be shared. Thus the poor are eucharistic people, people who know to say thanks be to God, to life, to each other. They may not come to Mass, they may not participate in church celebrations. But in their hearts they are deeply religious, because for them all of life is a long fiesta with God.”
“All of life is a long fiesta with God…” how beautiful of an image is that!?
So, as we approach Thanksgiving this week, I invite you to take some extra time one of these evenings in your prayer to focus on gratitude. Ask yourselves the traditional questions: What/who am I grateful for? What are the ways in which I celebrate this gratitude, celebrate this life? Am I recognizing the gifts God is giving to me in my site of mission, in my IWM community, in the Sisters, in the receiving community of people who embrace me – a stranger – into their lives and their homes? Where are the moments of grace in each of my days? You may also want to ask yourself: For what in me are others grateful? What gifts do I bring to the table – divinely inspired as Christ lives and works in me – and what do others receive from me for which to be thankful? Am I living my life as Nouwen says: a long fiesta with God?
Reflection: November 2010 – All Saint’s Day
Taken from a known blog on Women and Catholicism: “From the Pews in the Back” http://fromthepewsintheback.com/2010/11/01/
potential-saints/
by Nelle Carty In Loving Memory of my mentor and friend, Patrick L. Rattigan.
When I first started as a theology teacher at a Jesuit high school in a Chicago suburb, I had an official mentor who supported me through the academic year. There were no desks available next to my mentor in the department office . The closest space was next to the oldest faculty member in the department, and maybe the school. The other teachers, tip-toed around this no-nonsense, cranky, old man, who knew more than anyone. Everyone said hello to him, but there was a level of respectful distance that colleagues kept from this veteran educator. Pat, the old-timer, not only had a desk next to mine, but shared the same free periods. Being one of the youngest teachers in my department, and a naturally extroverted person, I didn’t know I was supposed to be respectfully afraid. So, I talked to Pat as much as he permitted during our planning periods. I began picking up the mail in his faculty box to save him a trip, and in return he started leaving me occasional lesson plans and helpful tools. As the months passed, Pat became my unofficial mentor, and eventually, a good friend.
This experienced educator lived for teaching and had created fine-tuned lesson plans incorporating a style all his own. Pat loved art. He was well-known for creating beautiful PowerPoint presentations that incorporated classic paintings relating to the various theology lesson plans. Occasionally, he would share one of these PowerPoint slide shows with me to use in my classes. He rarely shared these lesson plans with other teachers, so I felt honored to be given these pedagogical treasures. His appreciation of art added a unique dimension to his passion for teaching theology. Pat taught me that art engaged students on a different level. It allowed them to understand our Christian narrative without the confusion and limitations of words. Paintings offered a personal experience that was open to the Spirit.
When All Saints’ Day came around on that first year, Pat gave me a non-art related gem. He reminded me what All Saints’ Day was about. “Nelle, remember to tell your freshmen that we all have the potential to be saints. It’s not about being perfect. In this day and age, people place the saints upon impossible-to-reach pedestals. It’s our job to close the gap and help them see that sainthood isn’t synonymous with being perfect. It’s about being our truest self—the one God created us to be.”
Pat may have said that the 14 year-old, first year students needed to hear this, but I think I needed to hear this, as well. Occasionally, these words come to mind, and I smile thinking of Pat’s truth-filled lessons. Pat retired from teaching a few years ago and died this past February 2010. Pat wasn’t perfect, but he dedicated his life to teaching young people. Through works of art and literature, he challenged students to recognize the sacredness in the world and within each of us.
On this November 1st, we remember all of the people who have lived faith-filled lives. May these holy people who are no longer physically with us, remind us of our own potential and call to be saints
Points of Reflection for IWMs:
Engage in some personal reflection and communal conversation around your thoughts after reading this blog post. How are you living as a saint to those around you? What is the role you play as a unique and precious member of the communion of saints? How do you be Christ amidst our human imperfection? Who is your truest self – the one God created you to be – and how do you honor that person day in and day out? How do you honor the true selves of the people around you?
When the two disciples recognized Jesus as he broke the bread for them in their house in Emmaus, he "vanished from their sight" (Luke 24:31). The recognition and the disappearance of Jesus are one and the same event. Why? Because the disciples recognized that their Lord Jesus, the Christ, now lives in them ... that they have become Christ-bearers. Therefore, Jesus no longer sits across the table from them as the stranger, the guest, the friend with whom they can speak and from whom they can receive good counsel. He has become one with them. He has given them his own Spirit of Love. Their companion on the journey has become the companion of their souls. They are alive, yet it is no longer them, but Christ living in them (see Galatians 2:20).
Some thoughts/questions for reflection…
How do I live and share with others Jesus’ Spirit of Love on a daily basis? In my work, with my community, with those who are geographically far from me?
In what ways do I continuously let Jesus in, not just as a part of my journey but into my heart, spirit, essence of being? How do I continuously foster the relationship I have with Christ so that he is and continues to be the companion of my soul?
Where do I see Christ, the Spirit of Love, living and being in those around me? If Christ is at the essence of all of our souls, how do I reverence, honor and dignify the Christ in my sister’s and brother’s soul, even when they may do things I don’t like or agree with? How do I look beyond and through their actions into their heart and soul and allow the Christ in me to meet and witness Christ in them?
Reflection: September 2010
Michelle Sherman: Cabrini Mission Corps Alumn, Candidate: Masters in Theology, Villanova University
Opening Prayer Service: Peace Within New Beginnings Reflection
“Behold, God’s dwelling is with the human race. He will dwell with them and they will be his people and God himself will always be with them as their God.”
When I read this particular this verse, themes that spoke to me were community, peace, call, and salsa dancing… ultimately, peace within new communities. And here’s why.
Have you ever tried to salsa dance with yourself? … I admit that I have (when learning from YouTube video’s), and it is not fun—in fact, it is the opposite of fun! We need each other. In this verse, the writer emphasizes the community: “He will dwell with THEM and THEY will be his people and God himself will always be with THEM as their God.” This intimate dwelling-space, therefore, is not in isolation, but within community. As Dorothy Day stressed, “We have all known the long loneliness and we have learned that the only solution is love and that love comes with community.”
In regard to salsa dancing: every now and then, there will be a dance partner that just “clicks.” Movement is easy and natural with all the right flair and perfect timing. One leads and lets the follower know what is coming next, while the follower trusts: perfect teamwork. Likewise, some communities naturally gel together: the personality types compliment each other, values are shared or are highly respected in their differences, openness abounds, and working styles flow together – the stars align and all is right with the world. This mostly happens in an ideal world, which is to say, not very often.
More often than not; however, dancing includes an almost socially awkward phase of adjusting to your partner. One partner’s stride is longer, this one is dancing On Two (New York style) instead of the more common On One, or so-and-so throws in a Cuban move and I have no idea what is going on. But as long as I’m open to making mistakes and learning within the stumbling and stepping on toes, we’ll be alright in the end and learn much in the process. In the same way, new spaces with new people require openness to that awkward transition period: recognizing our own unique perceptions and background experiences and honoring the “otherness” of different traditions, practices, and ways of thought. We must ask: What keeps the communion of saints in communion with each other? It is not the same degree of “liberalism,” “conservativism,” or “moderation.” I recently read a poem from Thomas Aquinas where he states the answer to this question: “First, we need to know that we are all madly in love with the same God.” Let us remember that there grace within all situations: even the sticky ones that make us uncomfortable – that’s the Spirit moving us to grow!
Peace within the transitions and awkward stages of adjustment is possible, especially when seen through the lens of call. We’ve been called. This is in no way saying that we are better than those called to other institutions, but a simple affirmation of our journey. So let us above all be gentle with ourselves. In these experiences of dancing, as with building a new community, patience and a sense of humor greatly assist the transitions for us as the birth of a new community takes shape.
So let us remember that in this new community—we trust that we are right where we need to be, those around us have much to teach us—and as the ultimate salsa dance partner God leads and “goes before us always.” Remember that, as Henri Nouwen wrote: “In everything, keep trusting that God is with you, and that God has given you companions on your journey.”