Benedictine Sisters of FL

Holy Name Monastery
Founded 1889

Homily

From Holy Week into the Rest of our Lives

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Excerpts from “Opening Doors to Jesus & with Jesus”

A reflection inspired by a homily by St. Pope John Paul II

The liturgy of Palm Sunday is a kind of solemn entrance into Holy Week. Yet Holy Week itself is an entry into something greater. Palm Sunday combines a welcoming of Jesus and a welcoming of Jesus into our most sacred place. This is a place more our own than Jerusalem.   Jesus came to the so-called “city of peace” and was welcomed by a great crowd. In a certain way this city can symbolize the human race and its ambivalent reaction to the coming of Christ.

Today we want to belong to the crowd of welcomers. But if we welcome Jesus as our Lord then we must remember that he is Lord of truth, freedom, justice and love. We welcome him precisely as Lord insofar as we also welcome these realities with faith and joy, not just outside but inside ourselves. If we know what we are doing, we realize we are being called to work with Jesus, and one another, to build peace and justice and truth and love. That begins with our opening of ourselves to Jesus’ coming, and involves committing ourselves to work with him to build these realities within ourselves. This, at least, is the first step. But all are not ready to do this. So we have to be ready also to accompany Jesus to the cross. Who can guide us as we too climb the hill of Calvary with our Divine and Human Teacher? There is no better guide than Mary. What she teaches is part of the gift we receive when in accepting her as our spiritual Mother.

St. John has to open his home; we have to open ourselves, our most sacred inner place. We start by welcoming her but that will lead us to welcome others. Will we respond as generously as Mary to the Lord’s call? Will we persevere with joy and fidelity in the mission to others that this implies? Will we let Mary teach us this? O Mary, give us your eyes so that on the face of the crucified Jesus we may recognize that of the Risen One, the one who fears nothing when doing what the Heavenly Father has called him to be and do.

The first lesson is that of standing at the cross and joining Jesus’ love and forgiveness. The second lesson is that of opening our heart to all those who need love and forgiveness. This is our path into Holy Week and it is the path of our entire life as we come from Holy Week into the rest of our lives.

~ by Sister Roberta Bailey, OSB, Prioress
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Fifth Sunday of Lent

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First Reading  Ezekiel 37:12-14           Second Reading  Romans 8:8-11
Gospel  John 11:1-45 (shorter version John 11:3-7,17,20-27,33b-45)

This story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead is so familiar I’m curious what I need to hear this Lenten season.  I feel the anguish of the sisters and friends of the deceased as they watched their loved one struggle with a terminal illness, and then watch the life drain from him.  I can feel their frustration when Jesus did not come at their call… hoping against all hope that he would get there in time to keep Lazarus from dying.

We’ve wandered into a scene of much confusion.  Two sisters of a dead man had sent word to Jesus that his friend, their brother, was ill. Jesus is said to love the three siblings:  Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, but he delays responding with the haste we and they might have expected.  To the puzzlement of his disciples it is two days later that Jesus finally declares that he will make the journey to Bethany.  His disciples fear for his life. Thomas even declares that he and the other disciples should be prepared to die with Jesus.

Jesus’ delay heightens the drama today.  Because we know the end of the story, we can recognize that the delay was deliberate.  Jesus had to wait until Lazarus had succumbed to his illness in order for Jesus to glorify His father through Lazarus’ resurrection.

Many elements of the story of raising of Lazarus foreshadow the good news of Jesus’ own Resurrection.  In raising Lazarus, Jesus shows his power over death so that when He dies, those who believe in him might remember that and take heart. Just as Jesus calls for the stone to be rolled away from Lazarus’ tomb, so too will the disciples find the stone rolled away from Jesus’ tomb.

Today, we see Jesus being fully human in relation to his friends.  This relationship was vividly portrayed In the Stations of the Cross we prayed last evening.   He was able to love these people and be loved by them. They were very special to him and his relationship to them made him a more fully human being.

 

Maybe what is even more important for us though, as we think about this humanness of Jesus, is how he had such deep compassion. When He stood there at the tomb, He was fully aware, as we become aware when we are burying someone close to us, that they’re gone, they’re dead, Jesus wept. He sobbed because he had such intimate love with Lazarus and Martha and Mary.  He shared in their suffering.

That’s important to know about Jesus, because there are those times where we have had to face the loss of someone very close to us.  For some, it’s in cruel and unexpected ways.  Or when someone dies after a long, slow illness, we think we are prepared but it’s still hard to accept.  In all these times, we can always know that Jesus shares our suffering and our sorrow and he weeps with us.

The other sign in today’s reading that is important is what Martha says about Jesus, “Yes, I know you are the Christ, the son of the living God. You’re the messiah, the anointed one, the one who is filled with the divinity of God.“

So we have the mystery of Jesus, fully human, one like us in every way except sin and yet also fully God.  He tells Martha, “Lazarus will rise again.” And Martha says, “Well, I know that!’  But she misunderstands Jesus. She thinks He’s talking a time in the far distant future, at the end of time, that Lazarus will rise. That’s when Jesus says to us the most important thing for us to hear today:  “I am the resurrection and the life, not just at the end of time but right now. Anyone who believes in me will live. If you believe in me now, you will never die. You have the life of God in you. The spirit of Jesus lives within you now.”

And, notice the sequence of events: Jesus has conversation with the two sisters, elicits a state of belief,  asks the guys standing around to roll away the stone … but Lazarus does not magically appear – his friends don’t enter the tomb to walk him out – Jesus, cries out in a loud voice  “Lazarus, come out!”  When we’ve buried ourselves beneath our doubts, our short-comings, our shame or guilt, from our family, our friends, our community – they can try all sorts of interventions including prayer … dispatch Benedict’s Senpectae, a member of mature years and wisdom to secretly console and counsel the distressed or disturbed member – but until we hear, recognize and respond to the voice of Jesus calling: “Come out!” what binds us can’t be untied.  We can’t “go free at another’s bidding alone.”  We have to close the gap to the hand reaching out to us.

We are wise to make a special effort to be in touch with that spirit of Jesus who assures us:  “I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in me will never die. And if you live and believe in me, you will have life forever” Jesus assures us.  What grave have I dug for myself?  Who will roll the stone for me?  In the recently released remake of the movie “Beauty and the Beast,” one of characters asks (actually sings):[ “How does a moment last a lifetime?” ??]  This is what happens when we dare to reach out to close the abyss we’ve created to be in touch with that spirit of Jesus who is within.

Like Thomas said to his companions: “Let us go with him.” Let’s go with Jesus and follow his way, the way of forgiveness, the way of love, the way of compassion, the way of goodness.  Don’t we promise that with our corporate commitment?  Let us then go with Jesus these last two weeks of Lent to discover the real love and life that can come to us through being joined to him by following his way – the way of nonviolence, peace, compassion and love.  We question ourselves: how can I live my life as a trusting witness to my faith and the embodiment of the sentiments expressed in our mission and corporate commitment?

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2017 Fourth Sunday in Lent

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First Reading   1 Samuel 16:1b,6-7,10-13a   Second Reading   Ephesians 5:8-14
Gospel John 9:1-41 (shorter form: John 9:1,6-9,13-17,34-38)

 

Today’s headline above the fold … and TV scrolling Breaking News:

It’s a Miracle! Man Born Blind Can Now See!

Earlier today a man, blind from birth, encountered the man they call Jesus of Nazareth and apparently now he can see! It was Jesus who stopped and spoke to the man, rubbed clay on his eyes, and then instructed him to go and wash in the pool of Siloam. Like magic, the blind man then could suddenly see! Of course, some of the authorities spoke out in dismay since this so-called healing took place on the Sabbath. Even his parents had very little to comment out of fear of repercussions. However, what’s the bottom line? Man born blind now can see!

Fake news for sure!  Like my mother always said, “If a story is too good to be true, it probably is.” There are just so many fake news stories nowadays it can be very difficult knowing truth from fiction. We need to be very careful.

I don’t blame those Pharisees for being overly cautious. Someone spreading such news could have really upset things to the point of creating chaos. But of course, everyone is drawn to sensationalism.

There is an overwhelming flood of news and information that can wash us away if we are not careful. Unfortunately, much of it is commentary disguised as factual news coverage. Then there is the phenomenon of fake news stories that so often mislead well-intentioned people. With all this inundating us, it is easy to become overly skeptical of anything we hear, or even simply deaf to all news, fake or real.

Of course, once you cut away all the junk you can find truth out there. In living out our faith, we are dependent on knowing truth. Yet too often we act like the facts of our faith story are up for debate. We begin to see the account of Jesus in the Gospels as just another series of tales like they were written for a grocery store aisle magazine.

The story of the healing of the blind man tells of an encounter with Jesus that leads to freedom and healing. Jesus was and is real and the fact that he can heal us should be undisputed. But too often we live our lives in desperation and despair, seemingly unaware that we can take our burdens to Jesus. We act like the Bible story is just a nice tale to be told at church and not one that exists to change our lives.

My fear is that too many Christians hear the stories of Jesus but they don’t listen to them. When we hear something we take in sound and physically react. When we really listen we internalize what we hear and then form a real opinion that can motivate us for a response. Indeed, in our world we are lacking a good bit of response to the Gospel.

These Gospel readings of the three weeks in which we find ourselves, from the Samaritan woman at the well to the raising of Lazarus, are proclaimed every year at the liturgies that feature Scrutinies for those in RCIA. They are meant to truly form and change the person who listens to them. They tell of a Jesus who offers us new life in him. Our Savior offers living water, dispels the darkness, and conquers the power of death. These are not simply the climaxes to good stories. This is real truth.

The Son of God is alive and well and we are all called to testify to that truth with our lives. We must step out of the shadows and be bold in our testimony. We must proclaim to a world in dire need that Jesus is Lord. We must take seriously the call to evangelize all who can hear and to spread the good news to the ends of the earth.

After all, it isn’t fake news. It isn’t alternate facts.   It isn’t even simply factual news. It is the GOOD news.

Borrowed mainly from LPI Reflection by Tracy Earl Welliver
Reflection by Sister Roberta Bailey, OSB, Prioress
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Soul-shaking Change

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2017 Third Sunday in Lent

First Reading  Exodus 17:3-7              Second Reading  Romans 5:1-2,5-8
Gospel  John 4:5-42

This unnamed but well-known woman experienced a major change in her life.  She was engaged in the longest recorded conversation with Jesus.  The most starting aspect of the conversation is that it happened at all.  Jesus, an observant Jew, was expected to avoid conversation with women in public.  Move than that, to begin with, the animosity between the Jews and the Samaritans would have prevented the conversation in the first place.  The woman herself mentions it, “How can you, a Jew, ask me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?” Yet Jesus not only converses with her, he also asks her to share her drinking vessel, an action that, according Jewish law, makes him unclean.

The high point of the conversation is when Jesus reveals himself to her as the Messiah.  As this, the woman becomes a disciple.  She, an outcast and not a Jew, returns to her town to round up people to come meet Jesus for themselves.  This personal encounter has both a social and an educational dimension.  The woman became an evangelist to her own people and Jesus uses the incident to incident to teach the disciples a lesson in mercy.

Don’t you love how Jesus gently converses with this woman!  In the view of his disciples she was the wrong gender, from the wrong place, and lives a wrong life.  But, this day, Jesus is tired and thirsty.  Then, this lady (though her neighbors would never have called her a lady) approaches.  No one went to the well at high noon – it was just too hot.  She is skittish at the sight of a strange man.  She had to get her water when she thought no one else would be around.  She’s grown accustomed to suffering two extremes:  guys’ catcalls as she walked down the road or she’d been ignored.  Her defenses were up.  She wasn’t going to take any guff (she may have thought another word for it).  But, she wasn’t stupid; she was gutsy.  Despite the taboo of tradition, she talked back to Jesus.  And Jesus in the words of Psalm 34 “watched over the righteous and listened to her cry; He rescued her from her troubles and drew near to this one who was discouraged; He saved her who had lost hope.”  “Give me a drink.”

The exchange continued between the two of them.  He offered her living water.  This must have sounded GREAT!  She wouldn’t have to go to that well anymore!   She wouldn’t have to suffer the jeers, the whispers, the stares and finger-pointing.  She took in all Jesus said, pondered his words, digested it and then insisted the townspeople listen to her.  It was such an amazing, remarkable experience she couldn’t keep it to herself.  She ran shouting: “Come, see a man who told me everything that I did.  Can this be the Christ?!“    In the end, they answered for themselves, “This is indeed the Savior of the world.”

In Joan Chittister’s blog this week there is an excerpt from her book ILLUMINATED LIFE.  Joan reminds her readers that there is a lot more involved than may at first appear in making a soul-shaking change in our lives.  In Joan’s words:

Changing the way we go about life is not all that difficult. We all do it all the time. We change jobs, states, houses, relationships, lifestyles over and over again as the years go by. But those are, in the main, very superficial changes. Real change is far deeper than that. It is changing the way we look at life that is the stuff of conversion.

Metanoia, conversion, is an ancient concept that is deeply embedded in the monastic worldview. Early seekers went to the desert to escape the spiritual aridity of the cities, to concentrate on the things of God. “Flight from the world”—separation from the systems and vitiated values that drove the world around them—became the mark of the true contemplative. To be a contemplative in a world bent on materialism and suffocated with itself, conversion was fundamental. But conversion to what? To deserts? Hardly. The goal was purity of heart, single-mindedness of search, focus of life.

We do not need to leave where we are to become contemplative. “Flight from the world” is not about leaving any specific location. (Remember the Samaritan woman didn’t leave town – she ran back to the villagers. Joan continues:)  “Flight from the world” is about shedding one set of attitudes, one kind of consciousness for another. We simply have to be where we are with a different state of mind. We have to sit at home … with the good of the whole world in mind…

What needs to be changed in us? Anything that makes us the sole-center of ourselves. Anything that deludes us into thinking that we are not simply a work in progress… all of those professional degrees, status, achievements, and power are no substitute for the wisdom that a world full of God everywhere, in everyone, has to teach us.

To become a contemplative, a daily schedule of religious events and practices is not enough. We must begin to do life, to be with people, to accept circumstances, to bring good to evil in ways that speak of the presence of God in every moment.

[from Illuminated Life by Joan Chittister]

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An Unspeakable Event

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First Reading  Genesis 12:1-4a               Second Reading 2 Timothy 1:8b-10
Gospel   Matthew 17:1-9

Let’s set the scene: there is a mountain, there must have been clouds since we hear a voice come from out the clouds … then, there is Jesus. Three special friends, a face shining like the sun, clothes dazzling white, a voice from a cloud!   Something powerful is occurring here. And, it’s more than the disciples can comprehend.  They knew Jesus was someone special.  They’d known Him as a teacher, a healer, even a prophet… but that did not capture His full identity. Peter gets it “You are the Christ, the son of the living God!”    But his human understanding did not grasp the full meaning of what he said.

Peter recognizes that Jesus’ dazzling appearance in the presence of Moses and Elijah is significant–“Lord, it is good for us to be here!”   His suggestion to build three booths, or dwelling places sounds like an attempt to capture the moment, to preserve for safekeeping this frightening experience.   Imagine Peter (the extrovert par excellence) , jumping up and down with his hand in the air, like a child desperate to give the right answer, but who cannot quite get it right because he does not fully understand the question.

In his attempt to make sense of the magnificent transformation taking place before his eyes, Peter tries to talk it out, to speak words for the unspeakable event.  While he is still speaking, a bright cloud overshadows all of them and a voice interrupts: “This is my Son, my Beloved; in whom I am well pleased; listen to him.”

A stunned silence follows.  The four-some turns to go back down the mountain.  And Jesus asks them to tell no one what they experienced UNTIL He has been raised from the dead.

There are times when it is best to be quiet.  Times when we are a part of something much bigger than ourselves. There is more going on than what our physical eyes can see or understand. We have entered a mystery that can neither be defined nor discussed, only experienced.

There are moments like that in every life. Lovers gazing at each other see more than just another person. They have been brought face to face with the mystery of love. Parents and grandparents will recall when they beheld for the very first time the new baby in the family.  They see more than a baby. They are face to face with the mystery of life.  We’ve all seen a little child squealing with excitement. It is more than excitement. That child has come face to face with the mystery of deep joy. Recall a time you made a confession, formal or informal, and experienced the forgiveness of God or another person. It was about much more than words, past behavior, and the memory of estrangement. You came face to face with the mystery of grace.  And, many of us have been with a dying confrere, or parent, or friend.  We waited and watched for the person to be carried into new life. We came face to face with the mystery of death.

These are the moments of transfiguration. Each one of them is distinct, unique, and unrepeatable.  Yet they are somehow the same. Each one is so transparent, so real, they glow with the light of God’s presence. They are moments of pure grace. We cannot make them happen. We can only be there when it does happen. Thus, the importance of simply living in the present moment where everything around us seems to fall away.  It is a moment of pure, complete presence.

That is what happened to Peter, James, and John on the mountain.  They “looked up and saw only Jesus.”  This was as much their transfiguration as it was Jesus’. They didn’t just see the light they were absorbed into the light!

Jesus did not become something he was not before that night on the mountain. He was always filled with the glory of God. He didn’t become something new; but the disciples did.  In a flash of insight they saw the world with God’s eyes.  For, you see, transfiguration is not so much about what we see as it is about how we see. As long as we see only with our physical eyes, we will always be looking for something … looking over the fences of our own reality for that greener grass on the other side of the fence.

~ Reflection by Sister Roberta Bailey, OSB, Prioress
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Does your “Yes” and/or your “No” have Strings Attached?

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Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

First Reading  Sirach 15:15-20                Second Reading  1 Corinthians 2:6-10

Gospel  Matthew 5:17-37                           Intention  Engaged couples

Are you a person of integrity? Can people take you at your word? If You can answer, I am, then folks know that your ‘Yes’ means ‘Yes,’ and our ‘No,’ means ‘No.’   Or, as Pilate once said – or someone around here says – “What I have spoken, I have spoken.”

Every Jew in Jesus’ day knew these words: “…ye have heard that it has been said by them of old time, you shalt not forswear thyself…”   We call it perjury – a willful act of swearing a false oath or of falsifying the truth.

Last week was National Marriage Week during which the church prayed: “Let’s strengthen marriage.”  This week our community intention is for engaged couples.  How appropriate that Justin Barthle, John’s son, is getting married on Sunday.  May their commitment be without reservation: Let their YES be yes.

You see, a vow doesn’t need an oath. Jesus made it clear that our yes is enough to satisfy the binding requirement. With a vow what we say is what we mean.  If we do not mean it, if we, or a marrying couple, hold on to “except when” or “unless” or “until it’s not working or it doesn’t fulfill me – then I’m out of here’ – that’s perjury, a false oath.  We vow with “no strings attached.”

As vowed Benedictines what do we do to insure we are truly life-long learners – committed to a perpetual pursuit of growth in the monastic way of life?  What do we do to expand our knowledge of the writings of the fathers and mothers of the church?  Our familiarity with the Rule of Benedict?  In particular, how deeply do we delve into Scripture to realize new, fuller meaning of God’s Word?  What do I hear today that somehow I never heard before?

Do we strive to enlarge the understanding and application of our vow of obedience?  Has our observance of obedience matured beyond a childish fear of a parent finding out we took an extra cookie or a beginner’s strict adherence to every regulation to please her director or because she worries that the whole community is watching her day and night?  What does obedience mean to us?  What is legitimate authority?  In a spirit of mutual obedience do we conscientiously seek input from a superior and spiritual elder?  Suppose what is offered is not what I had in mind?  Do I give it serious consideration or was my asking simply pro forma?  Do I give a half-hearted acquiescence to a superior’s request as merely a suggestion or the call of the Spirit in my life to follow or not as I choose? How distressing it can be to have someone say “yes” – pretend she’s going to obey – but then never perform the deed or show by her every comment to others and her body language that she detests the command

What if the group makes a decision I don’t like – do I have any obligation to follow it if I voted against it?    What about annoying behaviors – not immoral actions, just a behavior that grates on another’s nerves?  Like, for instance, if you use earplugs to listen to music but hum along or keep time by drumming audibly on the desk – knowing all the time that it is driving the other up the walls.  It’s not bad to play an “air drum” is it?  And the other could leave the room if she doesn’t like it.  I am not playing the music out loud … do I stop the drumming or sit there justified that it is my right to give expression to the music.  It’s not a sin to hum or beat out the rhythm, is it?   Or is it?  Here’s the authentic test question: how closely does our behavior mirror Benedict’s “deference to one another?”

To keep our “yes” a “yes” takes much prayer, honest introspection, willingness to open our hearts to new meanings and a spirit of grounded integrity.  Otherwise, our vows, a couple’s marriage bonds, are not worth the piece of paper they are written on.

This is where our vow of stability comes into play.  With our vow we are publicly professing responsibility to work on fidelity to our covenant with God and our commitment to one another.  That takes an awareness of what is going on inside of ourselves, and a responsibility for how we might be contributing to the building up or destruction of a bond into which we’ve entered.  Remember: if you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem.

In this Gospel reading Jesus is talking about a lifetime pursuit of a way of living, in which our integrity isn’t just a matter of external conformity, but an internal way of life.  There’s that sticky vow of conversion of life.  This calls for strength and integrity, an inner discipline, an awareness of and acknowledgement of what makes us tick.  Our words should simply be our bond, and mean what we say.

When we say yes, you should speak it with enough conviction that there’s no doubt. When you say no, mean it.  If you sometimes say yes with your lips when your heart is thinking NO WAY!  People will pick up on that.  When in my heart I say NO, but my lips say yes…that’s deceit, it’s a lie.   My tongue speaks what my heart isn’t feeling. I’m lying to myself and to another person.  If I solemnly say “I promise I’m telling you the truth,” does that mean that sometimes I’m not telling the truth?

One of the angels in the Book of Revelation tells us: I know what you have done; I know that you are neither cold nor hot.  I wish you were either one or the other!  But because you are neither, I am going to spit you out of my mouth! “

Ultimately our relationships with other people are inseparable from our relationship to God; and it is the love of God that binds all in all.  It is God’s love that teaches us about relatedness, about truth, about personal integrity.  Heed Jesus’ words: Let your YES be YES and your NO be NO!

~ Reflection by Sister Roberta Bailey, OSB, Prioress
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