“He revealed himself in this way…”

We are in the full glow of Easter as this month begins. What has been occupying my mind are the words of John Chrysostom: “He is no longer now where he was; now he is where we are.”

This may explain the words of scripture about how Jesus revealed himself. Now you see him, now you don’t. There is the supper table, then the seashore with breakfast cooking. There is the journey to Emmaus. There are the sudden appearances when they are all gathered together. Are we missing something here?

I don’t think so. Jesus seems to be getting them used to a new way he will be around. No longer the old historical way, but wherever they are. Then this is where we need to expect to find him today too: glimpses; appearances in the darkness of our faith especially when we are with one another.

Our Ministry Assessment this year spotlights our Mission/Charism and Focus Statements. Both call for a kind of presence; in other words, how we appear. So we might ask ourselves, “What kind of presence do I bring among others? How do I appear?”

In Chapter Four of his letter on holiness in today’s world, Frances gives us five expressions that help to flesh this out for us. He writes of being present with an attitude of perseverance, patience and meekness; next he highlights joy and a sense of humor; third he names boldness and passion; finally he locates this in community and in constant prayer. Now this is well and good, you might say. I’ve been working on these for a long time. But it’s a constant battle!

And that it is. It’s a struggle. True to his Jesuit charism, Francis calls for vigilance and discernment. Now discernment can be a loaded word. What is really means is a type of attunement, the way a violinist checks that the strings of a violin are vibrating in tune with one another. Discernment comes from being in tune with the Spirit, not merely my egotistic need. It’s as if my whole soul vibrates in harmony with the Spirit on an issue and it just feels right. It has more to do with feeling than thinking, although once we check if something harmonizes with our prayer, we’d better check if it makes sense.

We make an appearance as surely as the risen Lord did. When we come we shine, we emit a magnetic field, we bring our perseverance, our patience, our meekness; our joy and humor ripple through the room; our boldness and passion pour out in the face of injustice. And make no mistake, the fragrance of our prayer and community compassion also come floating in with us. He assures us, “I am risen and still with you.” He reveals himself in this way. In this way

in him, we too reveal ourselves.

Glory in the Cross of Jesus Christ…

What a strange statement. The cross is humilitation and torture, victimization and execution, violence and dehumanization…everything I want to avoid. Glory?  I don’t know about you, but at first glance I find this a hard saying. Maybe that’s my problem. It’s a first glance. Maybe I haven’t looked long enough. Maybe I just don’t see.

These first weeks after Easter are all about appearances. They are gathered, and suddenly he is there. Then he is gone. They are walking, and he joins them. They are fishing and suddenly he is there cooking breakfast. The Church will give us readings from the Acts of the Apostles, showing us what the early Church is doing. Maybe this is what John Chrysostom meant when he said, “He is no longer where he was; now he is where we are.” They had to get used to this new kind of “presence,” and so do we. It demands a leap of faith, and a trust the Eucharist reaffirms over and over. “I am risen and still with you.” Faith is a dark light…and no, I just don’t see…unless I believe.

But this new presence is not fun and games. We struggle; we hurt even while watching the news; we are humiliated; we are insulted. Sounds like the cross to me, and that just may be the point. As he came into his glory through the cross, so shall we. There is no blaming from the cross. There must be no blaming from me. There is no violence from the cross. There must be none from me. There is forgiveness from the cross. So must it be from me. There is no explanation for this suffering from the cross. There is no explanation for what I am asked to endure either. There is trust from the cross. Aye, there’s the rub. Can there be trust from me? Can I trust that God will come through? That from his suffering and mine comes new life? Will God deliver for me the way God delivered for him? If I say no, I will sink into my bitterness. If I make the leap and say yes…glory will be mine just like his? “…now he is where we are…I am risen and still with you.”

Is this what you are asking of me?

Is this what my baptism has plunged me into?

Is this how you easter in me?

You are not kidding.

To be honest, I am repulsed by the cross.

Were you?

What did you have to do to bend your human will to embrace it?

Help me bend mine.

Help me to shine.

Mary, this month is yours.

Pray me into his mercy and help me to shine.

Your own Brand of Perfume…

As this reflection reaches us we are moving steadily toward the wonder of Holy Week, and what God has done… We’ve been alerted as to the temptations we will face; we’ve been to the mountaintop and heard “Look to me and be radiant…”; then we were shown that we should be like fruitful trees; and finally in March we were shown the heart of “the Plan”: reconciliation. God and me. God and us. Our presence is to be one of bringing things together. We are to be reconcilers.

The third chapter of Francis’ letter on holiness shows us what this looks like – or maybe smells like. Beatitude living can be described as the “odor of sanctity,” an image that has always delighted me. Some people just smell good. There is that faint odor of flowers or cleanliness about them. It’s a physical thing. But those who emit beatitude living truly emit a certain spiritual energy that is wonderful. They project a positive energy, an attitude of gratitude and joy. They might be blind or mute or in a wheelchair, but in their presence we are ministered to. They are not demanding; they have learned to keep a reign on their anger; they listen; they are concerned about the people they hear about on the news, even though they have problems enough of their own. We are uplifted in their presence as if we got a good whiff of lavender or apple blossom.

Francis has it right. Beatitude living is a refreshing presence for anyone coming into contact with it. It is the result of tough practiced virtue: the armor of faith, the expectation of hope, and tough love; the wisdom of prudence; the clarity of justice; the determination of fortitude and the balance of temperance. Mix in the spirit-gifts and the fruit and fragrance start to show.

Spring is around the corner. We look for its signs: the crocuses, the daffodils, forsythia blooming. As worded women and men, we will present a presence wherever our feet take us. We will be known by our own brand of cologne.

The Plan….

There is a Plan. Yes, most of the time things look pretty haphazard, but really, there is a Plan. It becomes quite clear if we see the Sunday readings connected with each other week to week. Let’s take a look.

We began the first Sunday of Lent by being confronted with the temptations that are sure to be part of our lives. Then we were taken to the mountaintop and shown a Jesus that dazzled us. The message? “Look to me and be radiant…” On the third Sunday we were told we need to be like fruitful trees, drawing up the love-sap that allows us to offer something delicious to our neighbors. Then with the fourth Sunday we are shown the bottom line: we are to be reconcilers. We need to be ready to show the greatest fruitfulness of all: forgiveness. Yup...it looks like a plan alright.

April dawns, and with Lent’s fifth Sunday we are given an explosive message to keep on track: “…neither do I condemn you.” Sometimes when the going gets tough and we’ve not really kept to our Lenten resolves, and we feel we are just bungling along, this is like a shot in the arm… or better, the soul. No condemnation? After all my mistakes? All my outright sins...? Yes, there is a plan, alright…just keep going. Remembering all the stupid mistakes does no good. God is doing something new alright…and it is beyond me and my foolishness.

Then comes Holy Week, and we watch in astonishment as the Plan unfolds before our eyes. The One who loves us dips down into our betrayals, our rejections, our desolation, our abuse, and our violence. Like some magnificent lightning rod, he absorbs it all, takes it on so the buck stops with him. He grounds it so it can do no more harm. It stops with him. And us. That’s the Plan. And where does that energy go? It gets transformed into life, like some foul manure. The Plan is a victory over sin and death…mine, ours, and all of us. As Lent continues, get with the Plan.

 

Holy One,

You never cease to amaze me.

In my blindness I watch the news and sink into hopelessness.

But you will have none of it!

You call me to keep my eyes on your radiant face,

Once so swollen and disfigured.

You pin me to yourself and carry me through the keyhole

I so fear.

What choice do I have

But to hope in the darkness.

Help!

Two False Forms of Holiness

Francis’ Letter, Exult and Rejoice, continues to give us food for thought. His second chapter warns us of two very twisted views that can deform our response to the call to holiness. They are both old familiar heresies. The first is called Gnosticism. In simple terms, it means your smarts will make you holy. A subtle form of superficial conceit, Gnosticism considers its own vision of reality to be perfect. It feeds on itself, and tends to be disembodied. This sad state of mind can be reflected in racism. “I know we are superior to those black people. We’re better educated and disciplined.” There is little awareness that our elitism rests on the backs of those we have kept in poor neighborhoods and schools. Disembodiment keeps “those people” at a distance, we are out of touch with “those others.”

The second view that can deform authentic holiness is called Pelagianism. As Gnosticism distorts intelligence, so Pelagianism attacks the human will. It suggests that we can fix ourselves solely by the effort of our human will. Holiness is a “do-it-yourself” job that grace can hitch onto if God wants. In reality it is the other way around. God heals the will so that it can respond as it can. Once again, Pelagianism is a subtle form of arrogance. Being alerted to this danger is especially meaningful for Dominicans in the current struggle for justice.

The Dominican doesn’t begin with action, with prayer added “when I have time.” Dominican life calls us to contemplative stillness first, to see the situation clearly in God, then to act from that contemplative clarity. This is a safeguard directly against Pelagianism. Interestingly, our Dominican life also protects us from getting mired in a Gnostic intellectual quicksand. We are contemplatives that act. We gaze at the Holy Mystery. Then we tuck the head in the heart. Only then can we speak and act rightly. This is how we deal with racism or any other “ism” that tries to twist the truth.

Light Against the Darkness…A Different Kind of Lent

As we enter the desert of this year’s Lent, many of us feel powerless and discouraged. This is a time ripe for God to be God. When we are weak we are strong. I suggest we make use of these times to spend Lent in a somewhat different way to keep the darkness from winning.

Prayer:  Rather than add extra “prayers” to your Lenten days, set aside time, maybe ten minutes, to just let God look at you. This is more difficult than you think. You do nothing…except look at God looking. You will feel helpless. You need to feel helpless because you are helpless. You will be teaching yourself to trust totally in God. Then make it a practice all day long, as you fold the laundry, wait at a red light, push the shopping cart down the aisle…to gently go back to that gaze. Intentionally go in and out all day. You will be training your consciousness to gradually develop the ability to “pray always.”

Fasting :  If you have been told you are overweight or obese, don’t change your diet but cut your food portions in half. You will not starve, but you will suddenly be leaving the table “not full.” You will be training your palate to do with less. If this is not your situation, check how you rush from one activity to another, as if a whip were over your head. When you wake in the morning plan how you can go gently from one activity of the day to the next. Fast from the subtle self-violent rushing that rules many of us, keeping us in worry and tension. Fast from it.

Almsgiving :  In the spirit of the Racine Dominican community effort to be more aware of the unconscious racism that we carry, find a lovely small bowl in your cupboard. Make it your “begging bowl” for lent. Toss your extra change in it during lent. Choose a charity of your choice that serves black children, elderly, or poor families. When Holy Week comes, convert your gathered change into paper money or a check and visit the place you have chosen, to personally deliver the money. Spend a bit of time finding out about the place. Make it an investment of time as well as money.

Surround this humble effort with the Word of God. Read the first reading for the coming day just before you fall off to sleep. In the morning read the Gospel…behind the words see the Word speaking directly to you. Lent means “springtime.” May it mean the greening of your soul.

 

I’m ready.

Time for spring housecleaning.

No mere wishful thinking.

Instead, a firm act of the will –

This is what I will do.

You are always aware of me.

I will try to be more aware of You.

I will fast from what makes me miserable.

I will give what I can to those who don’t have what they need.

Amen.

The Lady…

As the Christmas season ends, we celebrate the Feast of the Purification…a strange feast in a way, because this Lady needs no purification. So why does the Church continue right on with no apologies? Because, says Isaac of Stella, an early  abbot, “…whatever we say of this lady we must say in some way about the Church and about the individual person.” Now that’s quite a statement. I can hear you thinking… “now just wait a minute…I’m no immaculate conception!” As you might guess, the truth is in the theological distinctions.

 

The Feast of the Purification sounds a note at this beginning of Ordinary Time. Our lives as Church and as individuals are one big ongoing purification, if we are honest. We are challenged daily to become more who we really are, and God is relentless… calling us step by step into our becoming that dream God sees so clearly. We are the blind ones. We spend all too much time resisting, and being fearful of where God might be leading.

 

Enter Mary, the woman who signed a blank check and never wavered as God filled it in. So there’s the call. Watch the readings these weeks. Keep asking, “How am I going to be asked to go through the car wash this week?”

 

Not only do you have depths to your soul where no sin has never touched, you will give birth to the Christ day to day, or as Meister Eckhart reminds us “…your life will be sterile.” If that is not shocking enough, you too must be a theotokos or God-bearer, and a pneumataphora, a Spirit-breather, as she is. As the Eastern Church reminds us, we are indwelt by the Triune God, and it is wise to keep our eyes on our Mother, for she will remind us of God’s dream for us. She is already what we shall be in our immaculate completion. Don’t waste time objecting. Keep your focus, and get on with the project!

Lady,

your beauty amazes the angels.

It amazes me too.

Are you the mirror I’m to look into?

Am I to look like you…eventually?

Keep your eye on me…

I tend to forget, and get bogged down with all the struggle.

Pray my ears and heart open to the Word these winter days,

when my faith-walk gets dreary and my heart grows heavy with wondering

what’s the worth of it all.

Star of the Sea, keep me steady, and full of quiet joy

knowing there is a plan for me that your Son always has in mind.

Amen.