Tag: Sr. Kathryn

Today is the last day of the liturgical year. For a whole year we have journeyed and struggled and wrestled and wondered and wandered with humanity as we have liturgically made our way from creation through re-creation to this day. I believe the Church wants us to rejoice, to tremble with the excited conscious wonder at what has been given to us, what is our destiny in Christ.

The First Reading begins:

“An angel showed me the river of life-giving water,
sparkling like crystal, flowing from the throne of God
and of the Lamb down the middle of the street,
On either side of the river grew the tree of life
that produces fruit twelve times a year, once each month;
the leaves of the trees serve as medicine for the nations.” (Revelation 22: 1-2).

In the end-times, the final river that will flow forever from the throne of God and the heart of the Lamb, the eternal city, the new Jerusalem hearkens back to Genesis, the primordial  garden where we first encounter a river: “In the day that the Lord God made the earth and the heavens … a stream would rise from the earth, and water the whole face of the ground” (Genesis 2:4, 6).

However, in the fullness of time and in life everlasting, the river of life-giving water will not rise from the earth but, sparkling like crystal, it will flow from the throne of God and the Lamb, and flow through the middle of the street of the city.

In the garden, leaves became the means for Adam and Eve to hide their naked shame from God, from the Creator who loved them, sustained them, desired their complete and forever happiness. They used fig leaves to cover themselves after they had eaten of the fruit at the bidding of the serpent. In everlasting time, as the book of Revelation tell us, leaves are no longer associated with sorrow and sin and the craftiness of the serpent that brings death and destruction. The leaves of the trees are now the means of healing and health and wholeness and holiness. They serve as medicine for the nations.

We, my friends, know this. The Church places this mystery squarely before our praying hearts and open eyes. The darkened confusing clouds that swirl around people today break the hearts of our brothers and sisters, blinding them to this vision. Too many have never heard it preached to them.

But we have. We have! Today! In this very liturgy! Or if we cannot participate in Mass, in this moment of meditation on the Word. We too live in the confusing chaos of our times, but we have heard of the Fountain of living water that rises within us and the city of Jerusalem that awaits us!

Tomorrow is the first Sunday of Advent. This culminating glory that overflows our hearts spills out into the beginning again of our liturgical remembrance and celebration of the One who has saved us, who reversed our sickness and death and heals us, fills us with life, and washes us in his blood.

In the Responsorial Psalm let us truly cry out: Marana tha! Come, Lord Jesus!

Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy! Begin Advent with joyful excitement and cry out:

Marana tha! Come, Lord Jesus!

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Today is the feast of the Dedication of St John Lateran in Rome. The Lateran Basilica is called “mother and head of all the churches of the city and the world.” In fact, this basilica was the first to be built after Emperor Constantine’s edict, in 313, which granted Christians freedom to practice their religion. It is the oldest church in the West and was the church where everyone was baptized in ancient Rome.

I’ve been in Rome a couple of times for congregational meetings. The last time one of the sisters from the US currently working in the Vatican took us on a special “insiders” tour of Rome. She knew just the right place to stand to see the perfect view of buildings and Churches and statues and monuments that had stood the test of history for a couple thousand years. Her stories unfolded the magic and the faith of Christians as the streets came alive with their names and faces, their sufferings and triumphs…and their utter and complete belief in Jesus Christ.

As we made our way through the streets of the city, I was in awe that I was walking where two thousand years of saints had walked before me. Popes. Priests. Martyrs. Parents. Children. And I had the privilege of walking the same old roads as they did that day. I wondered if my poor heart would ever measure up to their courage and love and faith. The churches, certainly, we can still visit. They stood on every corner inviting us into the specific part of the story that had been played out within their walls. But equally present to me were the people, the living stones of God’s building, still there in Rome and throughout the world. A river of Christians stretching from the apostles Peter and Paul to that very moment when I was walking where they had once trod.

The Second Reading from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians reminds us that it is not only the stones of marble that build up the Temple of God. Benedict XVI stated that “the temple of stones is a symbol of the living Church, the Christian community, which in their letters the Apostles Peter and Paul already understood as a ‘spiritual edifice,’ built by God with ‘living stones,’ namely, Christians themselves, upon the one foundation of Jesus Christ, who is called the ‘cornerstone’ (cf. 1 Corinthians 3:9-11, 16-17; 1 Peter 2:4-8; Ephesians 2:20-22). ‘Brothers, you are God’s building,’ St. Paul wrote, and added: ‘holy is God’s temple, which you are’ (1 Corinthians 3:9c, 17)” (Benedict XVI, Angelus Address, November 9, 2008).

The last afternoon of our tour, we approached Chiesa Nuova along Corso Vittorio Emmanuele II. Chiesa Nuova is the Church where St. Philip Neri founded the Oratory in 1575. As I listened to my Sister and tour guide share interesting information about the history connected to the Corso, all I could wonder was how many times St. Philip Neri must have walked on this street. In fact, how every street in Rome had logged countless footsteps of numberless holy women and men throughout the centuries. I reflected on how each of us in our own way contributes to building up this living Church. Certainly I could not measure up to St. Philip Neri, neither in humor nor holiness! But yet, there I was, equally a part of God’s Temple, called, chosen, loved, kept by God’s tender power, the only thing that I can rely on. Both St. Philip and I–and you–are led by the same love and the same grace.

Paul in this reading talks about himself as a master builder of God’s community. He calls himself an architect who worked with skills that were not developed through study and practice and talent, but rather received as a gift, as a blessing. He carried out the mission he was charged with through the grace of God that had been given to him.

Any of us, all of us, can say nothing greater of ourselves than that we have lived and worked and loved “according to the grace of God given to me.” You have a mission. You are a builder of the temple of God, of the Christian community, the living Church. What is the grace given to you? Perhaps today you might take a moment to ask God to help you see what that gift is and what he has intended you to do with it, because we have each been given a charge in building upon the one foundation that is Jesus Christ.

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Finally, grow strong in the Lord, with the strength of his power.

According to tradition, the Apostle Paul wrote his letter to the Ephesians while he was in prison in Rome (around AD 62). While in Rome, I was blessed to visit the restored “house” where Paul was held under house arrest. Thinking of the great Apostle confined in those rooms, I can imagine this giant of a man whose missionary activity had touched the entire then-known world reflecting upon the purpose of life and the larger mission of Christianity in the world. I resonate, at least in a small way, in a similar time in my life in the weeks and months after my stroke when I had to come to grips that without God’s permission I could do nothing: I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t walk. As super as I had thought I was, busy, effective, bursting with ideas and energy, in reality I learned I was totally dependent on God.

People who are blessed with the ability to get things done, to envision the future, to organize and administrate—all of which were gifts Paul himself had received and which sustained him in his years of labor for and in Christ—know intimately that lightning-quick inner movement that constructs a roadmap for arriving at solutions and resolutions to issues when they arise. I like to think that Paul, in this reading, is showing us what he had gradually learned about living “in the Lord,” a truth that makes all activity fruitful.

He is telling the Ephesians and us, “Be empowered through your union with Christ, draw from Christ—and not yourself—the boundless strength he provides. For our strength as Christians cannot subsist outside of Christ. In Philippians he had written: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (cf. 4:13)

This is important to note because the armor which is described in the following verses as our proper attire is therefore of divine workmanship. The armor of God is given to us. It isn’t something we take up by creating it or choosing it ourselves. A soldier wears armor to protect and defend himself, whereas the armor that is described by Paul here, which God gives to us, consists of virtues which are useful for 1) defending us against the attack of the enemy, and 2) giving us strength in battle against the skillful, experienced, and malicious enemies which are the devil and his angels. A soldier’s armor protects him, but is powerless to strengthen him on the battlefield.

Therefore, put on the armor which God himself provides you: truth, righteousness and integrity. Run with stability and promptness to announce the Gospel of peace. Cover yourself with faith and wield the sword of the Spirit which is the Word of God. Be continually filled with the Holy Spirit. Don’t fall into the trap of assuming you can stand against the wiles of the evil one with your natural strength.

“In all your prayer and entreaty keep praying in the Spirit on every possible occasion….”

No matter how virtuous we think we have become, how zealous we as missionaries, ministers, and Christians may be, how fantastic our projects and successful our plans, Paul is calling us through prayer to jettison self-reliance and to rely wholly on the Spirit’s enablement. Prayer is the very air we breathe. Prayer keeps us spiritually alive. Prayer makes us one with Christ.

What the Church and the world need today are people mighty in this battle of spiritual warfare, people who are filled with the Spirit and who run to do the Spirit’s bidding. Without prayer, to return to the imagery of the soldier’s armor, we shall be defeated in battle. And if we look to God in prayer, we shall triumph in the battle against every evil.

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“Be like people waiting for their master to return from the wedding feast, ready to open the door as soon as he comes and knocks.”

Weddings are wonderful events, celebrations when we somehow are able to set aside the past and hope for the future of a couple with whom we have in some way shared the journey of life.

However…

What would be some reasons why a wedding feast wouldn’t be a joyous celebration?

Think about it for a minute…

I’ll name a few hypothetical reasons why we may not be thoroughly and completely delighted at a wedding feast:

The bride has a more beautiful wedding dress than I did.
The wedding feast is larger than what my spouse and I would be able to have.
I don’t approve of the marriage.
I’m worried about the future of the couple.
I wish I could be that happy in public like the groom. Instead I shrink with fear or shame for some reason I can’t understand.
My marriage or vocational choice has gone through the wringer with sorrows and setbacks. It’s not fair that they have everything going for them.
I have been slighted or hurt or unjustly treated by one of them and hope they get what they deserve.

Whoa. Suddenly the feasting is no longer shining with joy. It is distorted and darkened with jealousy or fear or anger or…

…Or hurt…

In the Gospel today Jesus tells us to be like people waiting for their master to return from the wedding feast. He says they should have their belts done up and their lamps lit, that is to be actively getting ready for his return.

So what are some reasons why we may not be actively, excitedly preparing ourselves for the Lord’s coming?

Here are some hypothetical possibilities…

I’ve lost a child and no matter how much I prayed, God did nothing.

My life hasn’t turned out the way I had hoped.

Others have gotten ahead of me and I resent that I’m not more talented, more positioned for success, more wealthy.

Trauma in my early years has left me struggling to trust, to hope, to love anyone and even God himself. I’ve shut down to protect myself.

I can’t remember the last time I was happy.

My experience of love in my formative years was conditioned on my good behavior or good grades. I never seem good enough for God. I can’t believe he would love me.

I pray but I don’t think God listens to me.

I think that God will come to punish me. I’m not even sure there is a place for me in heaven. I’m still worried about something I did when I was a teenager and if God has forgiven me.

Something similar lies at the root of both of these hypothetical lists.

Hurt.

The wounds we have sustained in life deeply affect us…at the level of the heart. We certainly get absorbed in the thoughts and memories and feelings that swirl within us on a conscious level. Just think of these hypothetical situations and all the drama that they create within a person and in relationships. Our small mind’s antics are just ways to distract us from the utter pain we each carry in some way in our deeper heart, pain from past wounds accumulated over the years.

Friend, I encourage you to hold that hurt and honor that wound. Know that deeper than the wound itself, however, is the spark of God’s in-pouring love that sustains your life on every level. We all have to struggle with the small-minded antics that get played out within us and which drive us then to act in small-minded ways. Hurt does that. The readings today, however, call us to look deeper. To actively seek to hold up the lamp in the dark begging for God to show us his face. To reveal how through all the pain we “in him are being built up into a dwelling-place of God in the Spirit.”

It begins with being aware of what is holding us back, what is small-minded and pain-filled and welcoming both the wound and the healing. As the wound heals, the light is released and the delicious joy of the wedding feast invades our life, pushing away the small-minded narrowness with the amazing discovery of Jesus’ promise: “In truth I tell you, he will do up his belt, sit them down at table and wait on them.”

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