by Liz | Apr 2, 2008 | main
Probably the most familiar scripture verse ever –and the central point of the Christian faith all in one sentence.
As I think of how much love that required (requires) it brings to mind my current delight at the news that my only granddaughter will soon have a new baby sister. These children are precious to me — my own children are precious to me, but there’s something about grandchildren. Specifically, I think of my older son, who is the father of this newest generation of our family. Would I have been willing to give him up? Even to save the world.
Not so much, I think. When it comes to my children, or grandchildren being put in danger or in pain, my prayer, like so many mothers (I suspect) is more along the lines of “God, if someone has to suffer, let it be me, not him/her/them.” And maybe that’s something that is missed in recitation of John 3:16. Just how much love it required to allow the only Son to suffer. As a parent, I get angry, I feel pain when one of my children experiences it. How much more so must that happen within the Trinity?
by Liz | Apr 1, 2008 | main
Today’s observation comes from watching Cooper and Grace (a couple of miniature schauzers that share my home):
The best place to rest is in the Master’s bed – preferably snuggled up on the pillows. It is so much like heaven to rest peacefully surrounded by her scent, in the comfort of a soft mattress and pillows. I can relax and be close. It gives me strength and energy for all the other exploits of my day. It makes me feel safe and content. My first choice of resting places is anywhere that she has been, because she leaves behind reminders of her presence.
I hope that I too can learn to rest in the Master’s bed – to be willing to be loved.
by Liz | Mar 31, 2008 | main
Last weekend I made a bit of a mistake in how I spent time. I found myself reading a blog discussing the issues with the Bishop in Belleville IL (I’m not including a link because I wasted too much time there and I’m not going to encourage others to do the same). The more I read the more sad and frustrated I became. The discussion kept moving off in the direction of liturgical properness and the authority of the Magisterium and Tradition.
Posting St. Teresa’s Prayer was a gut response to the whole mess. And Susan over at Creo en Dios! responded with one of St. Teresa’s poems that moved me deeply. After reading that I listened to the homily where I was reminded that all the study of theology possible and the possibly external adherence to rules does not make one Christian: what makes one Christian is personal encounter with the Risen Christ. That encounter and the continued relationship is the foundation of our faith.
So, maybe my time wasn’t all wasted. It caused me to stop and reflect on what I truly consider important. It gave me a chance to stop and spend time in the relationship that gives me life. It pushed me to get back to the basics.
Alleluia!
by Liz | Mar 29, 2008 | main
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet, on earth but yours.
Your are the eyes through which He looks
Compassion on this world
Yours are the feet
With which He walks to do good.
Your are the hands
With which He blesses all the world
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet.
Yours are the eyes, you are His body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours
Yours are the eyes, through which He Looks
compassion on the world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
It seems I have no further comment. Says it all.
by Liz | Mar 29, 2008 | main
Since I’ve made this commitment to myself to try to write every day, at least a sentence or two, I’ve begun to appreciate the fact that the Catholic Church has particular readings for every day of the year. In the gospel for Friday, Jesus tells Peter and crew to cast their nets over the right side of boat, and a bad day of fishing turns into a great day of fishing. Funny, they didn’t even realize who was making the suggestion at first.
And so it is with me. I thought of how many times I have been frustrated or angry and non-productive and someone makes a suggestion for a change. Many times if I will listen and try to make the change then the day or the project or just my general attitude makes a turn for the better. Only later do I stop to think and see that God speaks through many channels – family, friends, my boss or coworkers or even someone I meet on the street.
by Liz | Mar 28, 2008 | main
I was reading the Thursday Gospel. Jesus, the risen Jesus, appears again to people. And once again, He steps up to the plate to reassure them in their fear that they are seeing a ghost by having them inspect His hands and feet and by eating with them.
I am often frightened when it comes time to inspect my own hurts. Doing that might unleash a wellspring of anger and pain that I would just as soon let sleep. But, until I take the step to try to do that, they cannot really be transformed – or, dare I say resurrected, as something new. Years ago, when I was sinking into a deep, muddy place in life, I read Thomas More’s “Care of the Soul.” The imagery there was that of shining a light into the dark corners. The result of allowing the light to shine into these dark corners is that the monsters that are uncovered are not nearly so scary. It seems that the acceptance of their existence removes some of their power to reduce me to a frightened child hiding in another dark corner. But, I also see that looking at them in the light can transform them into something new – something unexpected. I’ll only go into those dark corners with a reassuring light that can allow me to accept what I find and possibly transform it into something new.
When I don’t want to look in the dark places it helps to look back at past experiences with this phenomenon. Having passed through depression, I have been granted some understanding and compassion for others who find themselves in this spot. Not that I would choose to go through it, but since I have it is good to know that the experience can be used in some way to help another through such a bad time.
Which brings me back to the original image in this gospel: If Jesus can allow others to inspect His wounds and use that to reassure them, to help them not be afraid, am I not also called to do the same?
