In his book The Bible Makes Sense Walter Brueggemann writes: “Conversion, the decision to be God’s holy people, is the entry into alternative consciousness which distances itself from the ways of the culture in which it is placed.” Our American culture is quite individualistic—a Lone Ranger culture. Lent is a time to make a decision to alter our consciousness away from me, myself, and I and toward community. In the coming week let’s decide in a conscious way to be God’s holy people. Let’s be more observant of the times we could reach out into family, parish, community. Maybe stay after weekend Mass a few minutes to chat, attend a parish Lenten service, do something together as a family, pray with someone, notice the cashier, thank someone answering the call of “Cleanup in aisle 7.” Send an Easter card with a sincere message of gratitude. Above all, be conscious of thought-patterns. Is my first response to a situation “How will this affect me?” “Do I like this?” “Do I have time for this?” Our culture often dictates such thoughts. Lent is the time to put off the older nature. It’s the time to put on the mind of Christ who emptied himself and spent his entire life to inaugurate the kingdom-community on earth.
The Book of Daniel and other Biblical books refer to God as a “great and awesome God,” who keeps his merciful covenant toward those who love him and observe his commandments. God has an enduring commitment to us, an obligation to us, and we to God. God and we are Covenant Partners. How are we doing in keeping the covenant?
God our Creator emptied the Godself in Creation and Incarnation. Jesus Christ emptied the Godself in his kenosis. We are called to kenosis as partners in God’s plan. Covenant kenosis is more than doing some Lenten sacrifices like giving up TV or meat. Covenant kenosis is the shape of our lives—to be persons of almost unconscious self-emptying through the absence of ego in our daily doings. Like Jesus Christ, our first response is toward the weak, embracing their suffering. It’s a call to make ourselves vulnerable in care for our brothers and sisters. It’s to hold nothing back that makes us only “just us,” rather than becoming the extension of Jesus Christ in our world today. To view ourselves as nothing is key to God-partnering.
Self-emptying God, help us keep up our part in your work of Incarnation and in our incarnational spirituality.
Abraham Lincoln said: “The best thing about the future is that it comes only one day at a time.” Ask me to give up sweets for 40 days, and I’ll say “Forget it.” But Lent is only one day at a time. Maybe we can give up sweets—or bad habits or excess time on social media or gossip—on Ash Wednesday. Maybe even the day after Ash Wednesday. And we certainly won’t break our Lenten resolution on a Friday, the day Christ died for us. But then comes Saturday. The weekend. Well . . . .
Persons with incurable disease are forced to take one day at a time. Persons who are unemployed also have one day at a time, deciding what to buy that day–food or medicine. Persons who are in prison with life sentences cannot choose but to exist from day to day. Do these persons also choose to live one day at a time?
What about us? Do we live with Christ, offering him our sacrifices? Are we attentive to our extra prayer? Does donating money become a weekly routine rather than an act of loving service?
We have begun our Lenten journey. Every journey begins with one step. And every journey continues with one step, then another. Left, right, left, right.
We Christians enter into Lent knowing the three basics: pray, fast, give alms. Other religions know the importance of these three also. The Koran, for example, states “Prayer carries us half way to God, fasting brings us to the door of His palace, and alms-giving procures us admission.” Why do we need all three? I’m sure it would be good to pray more during Lent. Wouldn’t that be enough? Or why not just give up chocolate and bad habits? Or just give a weekly donation to charity? Each one of these is spiritually and physically helpful to ourselves and others. But consider them as twined cords. How much stronger in the weaving together! Furthermore, when doing only one we more easily concentrate on ourselves. I prayed an extra rosary every day in Lent. I gave up desserts six days a week. I gave ten dollars every week to a charity. Yes, look what I did. Somehow doing all three simultaneously keeps me more grounded. Instead of concentrating on me—my sacrifices, my prayers, my alms—my focus is somewhat shifted to those whom I help. I feel I don’t do enough. I pray for the needy, but I better give them service and money, too. I serve those in need, but am I praying for them also? I give up food or certain pleasures, but what do I do with the extra money and time? Am I using extra minutes for good deeds and extra money for the needy? You can’t do one very well without the other two. So as we continue our Lenten journey, we can sing this song to the tune of “Three Blind Mice.”
P-F-A. P-F-A. Make sure you pray. Make sure you fast.
Whatever you do in this Lenten time.
Do some service and give some time,
And don’t forget to collect those dimes. P-F-A. P-F-A.
Albert Einstein said: “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” Which way describes your life? We may have been asked, “Have you ever had a miracle?” and our response might have been “Well, once when . . . .” But what if we regarded everything as miracle? Our five senses, our ability to think, our free will, the food we eat, the clothes we wear, everything we experience. Can we even imagine one thing that is not a miracle?
Make a conscious effort today to see everything as a miracle.
Sub-zero temperatures have frosted my bedroom window with an exquisite collage. With little imagination I see a cactus, mountain, waterfall, leaves. “Imagination is more important than knowledge” claims Albert Einstein. Could a scientist explain how the ice picture was formed—I mean, really? Or would it take a poet? Who could explain better the truth of frost on a window? I think the poet would make the truth of ice more real to me. But each explanation would be a wonder.
Throughout this week of Christian Unity we pray that all denominations will be one. But unity is needed within the Church, too. In particular, let us pray for and reach out to the “nones.” Perhaps those who identify themselves as “no religion” could have their interest piqued. Take a chance on inviting someone to Liturgy of the Hours or Benediction or a Marian devotion. You might find openness to the faith, once people (especially youth) hear about things they never experienced.
Some people see the Church as behind the times, because they don’t hear a lot about cosmology, evolution, or issues like immigration, capital punishment, racism, and sexism. Share with them the truths the Church teaches about these issues.
Everyone wants to belong. During this week of Christian Unity, emphasize that we are all the Body of Christ. We are united by the One Bread of Life that makes us all one Body in Christ. Everyone is united to the Lord.
And one final thought: Bring someone with you as you perform some service at church. As they follow you around, they just might say, “Well, I could do that, too.”
William McNamara, OCD wrote: “To be unique is not a matter of peculiar differences but of outstanding fidelity . . . fidelity to myself and the God who calls me to become more and more gracefully myself, my very best self, not in isolation but in communion with the whole human race.” McNamara adds that we must continue until we are “so faithful that God will look on me with pleasure and say: ‘This is my beloved son.’” What a beautiful way to think of uniqueness! Enneagrams, Myers-Briggs tests, fingerprints, and just plain living can prove our unique qualities; however, to think in terms of deepening fidelity puts us in direct line with the moment of our creation and our faithfulness to that moment.
January 9 is the birthday of our foundress Sister Maria Aloysia Wolbring. The birthday of our co-foundress Sister Maria Ignatia is the following day. Their charism that began the Sisters of Notre Dame in 1850 is one of trust in God’s provident love and goodness
Consecrated religious life is in a time of transition for many reasons: decreased number of sisters and brothers, aging members, the placing of institutions in the hands of the laity. Accompanying these reasons and more importantly are the needs of the world and our response to those needs.
Historically, religious communities have filled the needs of the times primarily in schools and hospitals. Now is the time to consider new opportunities that fit our charism. New ventures will definitely call us to trust God’s providence. As all of us take a contemplative look at the future, we share our thoughts. As I wish Sister Maria Aloysia “Happy birthday” I share one of mine.
Sister Maria Aloysia, along with Sister Maria Ignatia, did the next thing that needed to be done. Orphans needing a home? Sister Maria Aloysia provided a home. A teacher needed in another town? Sister Maria Aloysia filled the position. Elderly persons not being cared for? Sister Maria Aloysia brought some elderly individuals into the convent. What is the next thing that needs to be done? While the future has not come into full focus, we Sisters are ready and eager, trusting in God’s provident love and goodness.
Popular yard signs and hash tags tell us that Black Lives Matter, Women Matter, You Matter. I’ve never seen a yard sign “God-matter.” Yet the outdoor Christmas decorations that are starting to disappear are signs of “God-matter.” The Logos, the Word of God, took on a body. God and matter united, and in that process all matter is spiritualized. God became Jesus of Nazareth, the Christogenesis that makes God the heart of all matter, the Christogenesis by which human energy is integrated with divine energy throughout the cosmos.
Soon stable scenes will disappear, the Holy Family statues wrapped and stored. Perhaps we will not reflect on the pregnant Mary until Advent 2019. Meanwhile we have twelve months to reflect on the world, a divine milieu pregnant with God (Chardin).