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''Strength Training'': A Reflection on the Psalm for November 4th, 2018: Thirty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time

31/10/2018

PSALM 18:2-3, 3-4, 47, 51

R. (2) I love you, Lord, my strength.

I love you, O LORD, my strength,
O LORD, my rock, my fortress, my deliverer.

R. I love you, Lord, my strength.

My God, my rock of refuge,
my shield, the horn of my salvation, my stronghold!
Praised be the LORD, I exclaim,
and I am safe from my enemies.

R. I love you, Lord, my strength.

The LORD lives! And blessed be my rock! Extolled be God my savior.
You who gave great victories to your king and showed kindness to your anointed.

R. I love you, Lord, my strength.

A bright 12 year old girl, who when faced with betrayal and ridicule from someone she thought was a friend, turned to the Lord to see herself, and that “friend”, with new and compassionate eyes.

An intuitive group of friends who rallied around a mom with support and loving action in a moment when her patience with her cranky flu stricken 1-year-old was painfully close to the breaking point.

A strong man nearing the end of his ministry, inundated with complaints and challenges to his leadership, yet continuing to try with all his might to faithfully care for the people that have been entrusted to him.

These are all people that I have had the privilege of being around in the last couple of weeks. To me, they have been examples of strength. Not the kind that comes from a sort of strength training like lifting weights at the gym— though some of them do may do that. But rather, the kind of strength that comes from faith: a deep and abiding faith in a God who is Love.

"The psalmist is clear that our Lord wants nothing more than to love us, and asks only for our love in return."

The psalmist is clear that our Lord wants nothing more than to love us, and asks only for our love in return. Early in my faith journey and ministry, I thought that love was earned through my actions. So I kept active, and did a lot. However, at the same time I would often say to those I served, as well as to those with whom I served, that we could not strengthen others if we didn’t have strength ourselves. Ironically, I often forgot to practice what I preached. I would get caught up in the busyness of “church work”. The busyness that I created—instead of allowing God to be busy through me. I still struggle with this. I like to call it the Martha Syndrome. As in the Martha who complained to Jesus about Mary’s lack of “busyness” (Luke 10.38-42). Yet we need both. We need Martha’s vigour to physically do God’s work, and we need Mary’s ability to sit still and allow God to work on and through us. In being strong enough to simply sit still with God, I create the space to see beyond myself and also to recognize God’s love strengthening the people I encounter everyday. In turn, they strengthen me.

"In being strong enough to simply sit still with God, I create the space to see beyond myself and also to recognize God’s love strengthening the people I encounter everyday. In turn, they strengthen me."

The psalms are a response to God working in the lives of His chosen people. As part of our Liturgy of the Word in our Eucharistic celebrations, the psalm is a response to God’s Word proclaimed in the First Reading. Let's practice a different kind of strength training, where we respond to God’s love expressed in his Word by lifting up that Word and allowing it to strengthen us enough to strengthen others.

Aurea Sadi

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''You Are Responsible": A Reflection on the First Reading for November 4th, 2018: Thirty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time

30/10/2018

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Deuteronomy 6:2-6

2 that you may fear the LORD your God, you and your son and your son's son, by keeping all his statutes and his commandments, which I command you, all the days of your life; and that your days may be prolonged. 3 Hear therefore, O Israel, and be careful to do them; that it may go well with you, and that you may multiply greatly, as the LORD, the God of your fathers, has promised you, in a land flowing with milk and honey. 4 "Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God is one LORD; 5 and you shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. 6 And these words which I command you this day shall be upon your heart;

At first glance, Moses’ words to his people seemed stern and commanding. They did not apply only to the Israelites, however, but to their descendants as well. I was expecting at any moment to read what the heavy consequences would be for disobeying the law of Moses.

However, as I re-read the passage, I could sense God’s immense love for His people. Chosen as they were, He had promised them a “land flowing with milk and honey” where they could multiply greatly. He delivered them from their slavery in Egypt so that they would soon enjoy the blessings of the promised land. They were no longer slaves, but would soon have a place to call their own.

My husband and I often stress to our children that with every privilege comes a great responsibility. This is what the Lord was teaching the Israelites. Knowing how the Israelites were, God decided that before they could enter the promised land, they needed to be reminded of the responsibilities that come with being a people of God. As beneficiaries, they needed to learn to manage themselves in the Lord’s way, teaching their children to have that ‘fear of the Lord,’ that is, to live righteously.

This past weekend, I attended the Assembly of the People of God led by our Archbishop, Anthony Mancini. This was a call for we, the people of God, to live out our calling as His disciples. As with the law of Moses, we are being called to love God with all our heart, soul, and might. We are now on a journey to our promised land (heaven) and we have the responsibility of spreading His word and of taking care of His people. We have God-given gifts and charisms which we need to use to help His people, nurture them, and equip them to be disciples and followers of Jesus as they embark on their own journey to the promised land. They too, by the grace of God, will do as we do to bring others to heaven.

"As with the law of Moses, we are being called to love God with all our heart, soul, and might."

We are privileged to know God, to love Him deeply, and to be close to Him—even more than the Israelites ever got to be. This is a great blessing!

Our church is in a crisis now. We, the survivors, the remnants (we are called various names), need to be strong and unafraid. The apostles in the upper room were afraid, leaderless, and terrified. Maybe we are feeling these things, too. However, just as the apostles who received the Holy Spirit were empowered with strength and courage so they could start the church, we too, with the power of the same Holy Spirit and by our ‘yes’ can do our work of evangelization to build up a stronger church.

Liz Venezuela

To watch the livestreamed sessions from the Assembly of the People of God, click here

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"A Compelling Faith": A Reflection on the Gospel for October 28th, 2018: Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

26/10/2018

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Mark 10.46-52

As Jesus and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus.

Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.”

Immediately the man regained his sight and followed Jesus on the way.

Let’s imagine for a moment that we are Bartimaeus. Blind. Let’s presume, blind from birth; never having laid eyes on our surroundings, but always listening, touching, breathing deeply, in an attempt to conceptualize the world around us. We sit by the roadside in Jericho, discouraged, alone, and hungry.

With our enhanced sense of hearing, we notice a stir about the town. A rise in energy surrounds us, and though our perception of the outside world is dim, a swell of hope begins to pulse from deep within; a lightness grows. Could it be Him? The feeling increases as though all that is contained within us—our hopes, fears, disappointments, triumphs, regrets, and yearnings are banding together to escape from the prison they have been contained in for so long. Impulsively we cry out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

We feel the energy from the street shift; people are hostile to our plea, even those whom we love. We can’t stop it, though, this desire within that longs to be heard, to be seen. We cry out again in desperation, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

And then—silence. Are they going to hurt us? Has Jesus travelled on without answering? The lightness within begins to fade. Sadness replaces our hope. A hand lays on our shoulder, but we flinch and back away, fearful. We hear a kind, yet commanding voice say, “Take heart; rise, He is calling you.”

It can’t be true. Our hearts beat faster, an internal battle between fear and hope rages within us. We choose to obey the call. The voice of Love breaks through the noise within, “What do you want me to do for you?” We swallow hard and with a trembling voice respond, “Master, let me receive my sight.” A ray of light bursts forth from within, and we are immersed in warm pools of boundless Love. All our hopes, fears, disappointments, triumphs, regrets and yearnings burst into flames and drift away like dust. Our eyes are opened.

All that remains is Beauty. The golden sand, sparkling in the midday sun. The reassuring faces of our brothers and sisters in Christ, tear-stained and drenched with joy. The sweet innocence of small children who dance and chase one another, in one sense, seemingly ignorant of all that has transpired, and in another, fully aware and serene. The sky breathes with peace and life, gently swaying the branches on the trees, and animating the tunics of the disciples.

Our eyes turn to Jesus. Breathless, we gaze upon Him, feeling His comfort and the fullness of His mercy. He returns our gaze, smiling gently; penetrating our hearts with His Love. “Go; your faith has made you well.” We follow Him. Where else would we go?

This is my story. It is your story. It is God’s story. Faith makes well all that blinds us, and only requires of us one thing: that we take the first step.

Lori MacDonald

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"The Chosen Ones": A Reflection on the Second Reading for October 28th, 2018: Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

25/10/2018

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Hebrews 5.1-6

Every high priest chosen from among men is put in charge of things pertaining to God on their behalf, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins. He is able to deal gently with the ignorant and wayward, since he himself is subject to weakness; and because of this he must offer sacrifice for his own sins as well as for those of the people. And one does not presume to take this honour, but takes it only when called by God, just as Aaron was.

So also Christ did not glorify himself in becoming a high priest, but was appointed by the one who said to him, “You are my Son, today I have begotten you”; as he says also in another place, “You are a priest forever, according to the order of Melchizedek.”

The vocation to the priesthood is full of joy and suffering, just as any vocation is. To be wife, husband, mother, father, sister, brother, or single consecrated—all calls require tremendous gifts of self, and each priest is likewise invited to a life of radical generosity. Being the father of a community of spiritual children comes with tremendous sacrifice and, acting In persona Christi, priests carry immense responsibilities that can only truly be lived out by having access to rivers of grace.

"[A]ll calls require tremendous gifts of self, and each priest is likewise invited to a life of radical generosity."

I didn’t fully appreciate the “gifts and sacrifices” that priests offer for our sins, on our behalf, until I became good friends with a priest. Despite a busy schedule, this man took time out of his busy life to ask me what was troubling me when he saw me in distress after mass one morning. Over months, then years, he listened and continued journeying alongside me. He encouraged me innumerable times in my faith journey and helped teach me lessons that will remain with me my whole life. As a spiritual father, he took great pride in my little triumphs over my own selfish ways and personal struggles, and he prayed incessantly for me when I didn’t even know I needed prayer. He was patient when I didn’t understand where he was directing a conversation--“deal[ing] gently with the ignorant and wayward”—and he provided a space for me to seek and grow closer to God. Aware of his own weaknesses, he was transparent about his shortcomings and he frequently pointed away from himself and redirected my eyes to have them fixed on Christ. Knowing him, even as little as I did, helped me to appreciate how much priests share in everyone’s lives—all the most painful and beautiful aspects.

The “chosen” nature and “appointment” of the priestly vocation also makes sense to me, because anyone who would choose this life out of a desire to be seen or respected or to have power would be incredibly unfit for the calling. I do not know how God chooses men to be His priests, but I do believe that the title “servant of God” is well warranted. The reality of this service shapes selfish men to become Christ-like in the laying down of their lives for the people of God. It is an honour that the world can’t easily understand, and even those within the Church have often misunderstood the gift. The honour doesn’t come from being in a high place of authority or ability, but rather from the privilege of being asked to live, and die to oneself, just as Christ—our High-Priest—did for us. Even the laity, all men and women, are called to be little priests and little christs, and in our good spiritual fathers we have great examples of how we can imperfectly but diligently strive to live out this call to love.

Kendra Chisholm

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