franciscansisters
Julia Walsh
skhennessey
lukejhansen
brjoshua
ecdiedrich
jericaarents
amynee
jaynep2
Steven Cottam
Ben Anderson sj
Since Sunday, I have been trying to pay attention to the little resurrections in the world around me. How is God at work around me? How do I say Yes to the Risen Christ? What is happening in my heart?
I feel renewed. I have been transformed by God’s grace. Each day God is working, letting Life have the last word. Alleluia!
strangers grip palms, bond at bus stops
grins by glory, pilgrims unite
onward, hosannas and hellos true
buzz on the street: whisper, plot, might
centuries of destruction and war ring doom
age the days of tension, hoping
who can save us from our plight?
bright spring moon, free, feasting
friends wash feet; bread, wine multiply
garden ghosts stir; children play, pray
crowds of citizens chant, cheer “crucify”
believe deceive, turn Love a bloody way
nails, thorns, swords and thirst all killing
three men suspend on wood beams die
friends, followers help Love, crying
into tombs of time, sabbath, vigil, praying
God’s goodness shakes ground, surprise
into churches, candlelight, stories, singing
Jesus has come back! He Lives! Arise!
A teenage boy, Trayvon Martin, was killed a month ago in Florida. Since then his death has heated up the national news and sparked highly emotional questions, comments, protests, prayer, rallies and vigils. We’re angry, lamenting and mourning. In our hearts we know something is wrong and we are acting for peace.
Last week a teenage boy (my student’s good friend) was shot in the park near our school. He was playing basketball on a beautiful sunny day. Just like Trayvon’s story, there have been no arrests, no explanations, and he isn’t known to have been doing anything wrong. The innocent victim, 15 years old, died later that night in the hospital. Unlike the story of Trayvon, no national outrage erupted. This mindless death happened quietly and has caught little attention. I can’t find any news stories about what happened and my student casually shared the news with the class. His casual manner alarmed me but it made total sense to him. “We’re used to it, Sister,” he said.
It is dangerous to be a teenage boy. It is hard to cope with violence and injustice. It’s not surprising that young people turn numb.
Our school serves all African-American teenage boys, one of the most vulnerable populations in our country. It is one of three schools in the nation founded particularly for that purpose. My students are teens, just like Trayvon. They eat skittles and drink ice tea, wear hoodies and talk on their cell phones to girls. They love playing basketball in the park on beautiful days and avoiding homework. They’re typical teenage boys.
My students know that they are vulnerable to being misjudged simply because they are black teenage boys. They have to be careful about where they go and what they do. They know that their appearance causes people to be suspicious of them for no right reason. Their parents warn them about this and it is something that they have to learn how to deal with as they become more independent.
My students should not be in danger for being who they are. No one’s safety should be at risk because of where they are and what they look like. Even though humanity keeps messing things up, our hearts know that this is not OK.
…For they broke my covenant,
and I had to show myself their master, says the LORD.
But this is the covenant that I will make
with the house of Israel after those days, says the LORD.
I will place my law within them and write it upon their hearts;
I will be their God, and they shall be my people.
No longer will they have need to teach their friends and relatives
how to know the LORD.
All, from least to greatest, shall know me, says the LORD,
for I will forgive their evildoing and remember their sin no more. -Jeremiah 31:32b-34
I love my students dearly. They impress me daily by their brilliance, hard work and strong faith. They have taught me much about the realities of inner-city life, African-American urban culture, hip-hop, sports, slang and social justice. I have learned about life on the margins from my students and this has brought me closer to Jesus. My students have taught me new dance moves and beautiful new songs.
It is somewhat ironic that I teach all African-American boys in a big city like Chicago. I am a white woman from the farming hills of Northeast Iowa. I don’t think I spoke to a black man until I went to college, only because I didn’t have the opportunity. I dreamed of being a missionary in Africa when I was a little girl but people kept telling me that I didn’t need to go so far away to do God’s work. To my surprise I ended up teaching on the south side of Chicago and still feel like I am half a world a way from home. (But I am only a five hours drive away from where I grew up!)
It’s not easy serving in a culture not my own. I don’t always understand the things my students say and do, and they don’t always understand me. Although the diversity is a challenge, it is more of a blessing. When we unite across difference in action, learning, and peacemaking we build the kingdom of God.
Next week I will embark on one of the greatest experiments in my career as an educator. I am leading a service-learning trip to my home. I will bring eight of my students to Northeast Iowa and they’ll spend a week learning about rural life and social problems by visiting and helping at places like farms, parks, schools and food pantries. We’ll pray through Holy Week as we journey together. They’ll get to meet teens who are very different than them and understand more about humanity.
The service trip will be interesting and amazing. We’re really excited about the inevitable adventures and fun. I am thrilled and honored to be able to do the work of bridging cultures and opening others to Truth. I have faith that God will be doing great things in our hearts and we’ll all grow in our knowledge about the law of Love and peace. God will do the teaching and I’ll get to witness.
It’s true that teenage boys don’t enjoy the same freedoms that I do and they aren’t always safe. Yet, I have hope. They’re willing to be brave and go new places to grow in the truth. Together, all humanity is learning the truth.
The truth is, God’s Law is about love, peace and justice. God’s law is written on all of our hearts.
This is one of my favorite songs that I learned from my students.
By guest blogger Jayne Pickett
This past week I journeyed with a group of women discerning a call to religious life. We traveled to New Orleans for a week of service at a ministry called The Rebuild Center, a collaborate effort by the Presentation Sisters, Jesuits and Vincentians. No, our ministry was not carpentry or plumbing, but rather helping rebuild lives by serving some of the most neglected on the streets of New Orleans—the homeless.
Several in our group were nurses and some were trained in healing touch. These women set up a massage and foot washing area for The RebuildCenter’s guests. Those of us in the group, like me, not trained in the medical field were given a crash course on healing touch and were invited to partake.
Honestly I was feeling uncomfortable with this invitation. Massaging another person is rather intimate and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that kind of intimacy with a homeless person. And just the thought of touching another’s dirty feet made me feel nauseated. I avoided the invitation by sticking in the kitchen to help prepare the meals. However, every day I heard this nagging voice inside me say, “You should try it, look at the other women who are courageous enough to try it.” I would go peek in on the stations, but fear and the waves of nausea stopped me. I told the inner voice, “I can’t do it.”
Being in the Lenten season, the symbolic nature of the foot washing was not lost on me, and I was plagued with guilt of not being able to muster enough courage to serve these vulnerable men and women in this way. I felt like the rich young men of scripture whom Jesus told to sell their possessions and follow him. I walked away sad, feeling as though I was failing Jesus.
I wanted the courage to lovingly be able to enter into the foot washing ministry. I kept praying during the week that I would feel called and would have the courage to respond yes. On our final day in New Orleans Molly, one of my companions, asked if I was ready. Surprisingly, I said “Yes I think I can do it.” I suggested I watch her technique with one guest first and then jump in (I was really stalling for time). My face was hot and flush when I said this and she suggested I sit down and breathe deep. I watched Molly pray over her guest’s feet then gently and tenderly wash, massage and slip on new socks. Molly and the guest engaged in personal conversation all the while the man was getting his feet massaged, at one point he stopped in mid conversation, lost his train of thought and was swept away by the loving touch of Molly. I was witnessing a sacramental encounter.
After watching Molly I had enough courage to serve the next guest on the list who wanted a foot washing. I followed Molly’s example and with the grace of God was able to enter as deeply into the experience as Molly.
Here I am, embracing the washing of the feet.
I was humbled and blessed in this simple act of love. I understand the profound message of Jesus in the scriptures as he washed the disciples’ feet, “If I then, the Lord and the Teacher, washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet… Truly, truly, I say to you, a slave is not greater than his master, nor is one who is sent greater than the one who sent him. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.” (John 13:14-17) In the voice of the Spirit that came through Molly, and in the reciprocated love and trust of the homeless of the Rebuild Center, I know I am blessed.
True story shared by guest blogger Liz Diedrich
I was happy to see William pull up next to me on his bike. Last I heard he had been stabbed in a fight and I did not know the extent of his injuries. Surprised at the opportunity, I ask him how he was doing. He seems embarrassed about his injuries and the fact he was fighting; he says he was fine but really blows the question off.
I have known William for three years and I have seen him on and off “the wagon” twice as many times. I know he is an alcoholic. I know he finds himself in a lot of fights. I changed the bandages on his gunshot wound a few years ago. We have a good rapport and I feel comfortable teasing him and challenging him.
So I continue to push a bit. I ask about the fights, work, housing and his alcohol addiction. He is not really in the mood to chat so I continue on my walk to work and he starts to peddle away. But then he stops me.
“What is the beginning of 1st John all about?” he asks.
Confused and surprised, I respond, “What William?”
“I was reading my Bible last night, and I was reading John and it did not make sense. I could not sleep because it did not make sense,” he responded quickly.
“William, are you talking about the Book or the Gospel?” I ask, secretly hoping he is asking about the Gospel.
“The Gospel. What is all this talk about the Word, and God, and light about?”
So I sit down. He sets his bike down and sits with me. I pull my Bible out of my bag. And together on the corner of 12th Ave. and Jefferson we have a Bible study. In the part of town where drug dealers, prostitution, homeless shelters, and soup kitchens exist. In the part of town people try to avoid. Here we are sitting on the corner having an impromptu Bible study.
In the beginning was the Word,
and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God.
He was in the beginning with God.
All things came to be through him,
and without him nothing came to be.
What came to be through him was life,
and this light was the light of the human race;
The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness has not overcome it. -John 1:1-5
We talk through each verse. We take each line and individually look at its meaning. We discuss the passage as a whole.
It’s simple. We do not use the word exegesis or talk about homoiousios vs. homoousios. It’s beautiful. Two people are caught in a moment; two people are finding God; two people are drawn together by grace.
“So really, it’s all about Jesus. Jesus and God. And Jesus saved us. And Jesus is still the Light. That’s it?”
“Yep, William, it really is that simple.”
The actions of Lent lead me through valleys of reflection. As I serve and share I keep thinking and praying.
I’ve been wondering: What does love look like in the dark? What is it really like to trust God when things are hard? Why must we go through uncomfortable repentance and detachment to really be ready to know free Easter joy?
God’s ways are so good. I shall keep choosing them even though I don’t understand.
I am a slow learner. I hear the sacred invitations of Lent and I still move toward the darkness. My life is busy right now and I wonder if my time with God in the desert is caving in on itself. Is it true that I need to understand darkness to be a child of the Light? Are all my examinations of the truth really helping me get ready for the sunrise? Or, am I making things harder for myself?
Together we’re in a Lenten desert where things aren’t too comfortable. God seems to have turned up the heat and hallowed out cool caves of confusion for us to take refuge. Our explorations of the caves of truth cause us to wonder. Is there a reason why we want to examine the rock formations within the dark? Can it also be our nature to stand and face the horizon, waiting to watch the glory of the sunrise? As light emerges can we listen to the songs of creation getting ready for a New Day?
I ponder these scenes in my heart when I remember to pause during my busy days. God is certainly using the local, natural beauty to ground me as I run around. I have to pay attention while I try to serve, teach, help and love. Every day is full of the Truth that can bring me closer to God. Truth can be rocky, heavy and hard.
This week daylight savings time has warped my routine some. My alarm clock becomes part of my dreams and I tune it out but the singing birds stir me out of slumber. Then, in a daze, I watch the sunrise over Lake Michigan and read psalms. I bow, blow out candles and say the Eucharistic prayer that my sisters say in our adoration chapel every hour with me while I am away on mission: “Sacrament most holy, Sacrament Divine, all praise and all thanksgiving be every moment thine. Eucharistic heart of Jesus, furnace of Divine love, grant peace to the world.”
I gather my stuff and rush to work. On the way I encounter the needs of the world, hoping to bring the peace I pray for. Every child needs positive attention, every person needs to know that she is loved. I can’t keep up with the demands of being a teacher, no matter how much sleep I sacrifice or prayers I pray. It seems that I have to remain real. It’s more true to admit that I am doing my best but I would like to do better. A stone of truth in the cave is named: I must be humble.
I read the news and check my email. Awareness of injustices layer upon more demands. The freshness of the signs of spring stir worries and unrest. I am worried about the safety of the city, the garbage wrapping around fences and coating the land. I get crabby and annoyed that other people are messing up the world, but I fail to look in the mirror. Yet I am getting used to violent and cruel language. Along with other sufferings and wrong-doings, I tune things out instead of caring. Another rocky truth in the cave is named: I could be more loving and passionate about injustice.
When evening arrives I am exhausted but still spinning in restlessness. I realize I survived another day of mean misunderstandings and heavy work, but my guilt is stronger than gratitude. I feel like I need to keep working as long as I can or I won’t be ready for tomorrow. God stirs in my heart, asking me to sabbath. Come, rest in me. I shrug off God’s desert invitations and turn instead to shame and sorrow; I think I need to work harder. A boulder of truth in the cave is named: I need to trust in God.
I am glad that Lent is longer than a month because I seem to be a slow learner. I am getting it though, little by little, and with each new awareness my relationship with God is being restored and renewed. Eventually I’ll be able to leave the cool cave and re-encounter the heat of the furnace of Divine Love. Eventually all this Lenten work will ready me for the best sunrise ever: the resurrection of Jesus Christ, the true Light of the world.
"thorns in the desert" by Julia Walsh FSPA
And this is the verdict,
that the light came into the world,
but people preferred darkness to light,
because their works were evil.
For everyone who does wicked things hates the light
and does not come toward the light,
so that his works might not be exposed.
But whoever lives the truth comes to the light,
so that his works may be clearly seen as done in God. -John 3:19-20
