Wednesday, February 26, 2020

“Turn Back, Choose Life” by Beth DeCristofaro


“Turn Back, Choose Life” by Beth DeCristofaro

Thursday after Ash Wednesday

I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Choose life, then, that you and your descendants may live, by loving the LORD, your God, obeying his voice, and holding fast to him. (Deuteronomy 30:19-20)

Then he said to all,  “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it. (Luke 9:23-24)

Piety

Study
Repent, turn back, choose life, are some of the phrases that resonate with me as we begin Lent. Take up your cross and follow. These words always reverberate in my heart. In Lent’s forty days, reminding us of the 40-year journey of the Chosen People saved from slavery, I think of them taking up their burdens to follow their God. Constant whining and straying are still petty, human, and personal. God sent manna and quail to feed them in the barrenness of the Sinai Peninsula, yet I can picture myself grumbling as I, an Israelite woman, might have groped for my slippers in the pre-dawn darkness to go gather up the day’s nutrition. “Why is it my job to always be doing this?” “What chicken (quail) again for dinner?” Taking up crosses is not my first choice. But during Lent, we focus on Jesus, who takes up his cross right along with me. I am not alone; I do not have to go it alone.

Considering the invitation to return, to repent helps me reframe the idea of bearing a cross. The bearing can become turning back to ask for the grace and strength to bear a cross and choose life.  

For example, living with a chronic illness is an opening to take care of myself appropriately and to accept limitations without forcing my needs on others or acting defeated. Completing the daily chores of my comfortable, middle-class life I can view as occasions to thank God for my blessings and practice stewardship of what I have been given rather than lament the fact that again, I seem to be the only one in the family who knows where to put clean dishes away or take out the garbage. If stuck in a dead-end job, I can take the occasion to thank God that I am employed and be alert to the moments of grace when I successfully finish a task (whether acknowledged or not), learn a new skill, meet a new potential friend in Christ among my colleagues. I can refrain from deadly gossip or tearing down management.  

Some crosses are almost too big to bear alone, and turning back to the light of Christ might be all the bearing one can do. Depression, addiction, hate might leave us no option but to cry out to Jesus, who was a friend to the Good Thief. These are not choices I make, but Jesus chooses to be with me, closer to me than I might dare hope on the darkest of days. Bearing these crosses with him turns me back to him. It is a choice for life. I am never alone.

Action
What cross am I bearing? How might I see it anew and use it as a way to turn back, repent, choose life this Lent?


Tuesday, February 25, 2020

“God Desires Our Hearts” by Colleen O’Sullivan



“God Desires Our Hearts” by Colleen O’Sullivan


Even now, says the LORD, return to me with your whole heart, with fasting, and weeping, and mourning; Rend your hearts, not your garments, and return to the LORD, your God.  For gracious and merciful is he, slow to anger, rich in kindness, and relenting in punishment. (Joel 2:12-13)

We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.  For our sake he made him to be sin who did not know sin, so that we might become the righteousness of God in him.  (2 Corinthians 5:20b-21)

Jesus said to his disciples: “Take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them; otherwise, you will have no recompense from your heavenly Father.  (Matthew 6:1)

Piety
Rend Your Heart
A Blessing for Ash Wednesday
-          Jan L. Richardson
To receive this blessing,
all you have to do
is let your heart break.
Let it crack open.
Let it fall apart
so that you can see
its secret chambers,
the hidden spaces
where you have hesitated
to go.
Your entire life
is here, inscribed whole
upon your heart’s walls:
every path taken
or left behind,
every face you turned toward
or turned away,
every word spoken in love
or in rage,
every line of your life
you would prefer to leave
in shadow,
every story that shimmers
with treasures known
and those you have yet
to find.
It could take you days
to wander these rooms.
Forty, at least.
And so, let this be
a season for wandering
for trusting the breaking
for tracing the tear
that will return you
to the One who waits
who watches
who works within
the rending
to make your heart
whole.
(from The Painted Prayerbook, ©Jan Richardson)

Study
When I look in the mirror today, I see the ashes and remember the palms they came from, the palms the crowd waved as Jesus entered Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. Echoes of the hosannas and other shouts of acclamation ring in my ears.  But where were the crowds later that week? No one waved palms; no one even stayed awake as Jesus prayed to his Father in the Garden of Gethsemane. No one waved anything; no hosannas rang out, no one even admitted to knowing Jesus in the courtyard of the high priest. No one saw palms on Good Friday; few people even bothered to make the trek to Golgotha with Jesus.  

These palms-become-ashes are a reminder to me of the many ways in my life I have let Jesus down, denied him, or betrayed him. The ashes are an ancient symbol of the need for repentance and atonement. God says:  All I ask of you is your heart. That’s it.  It sounds so easy, yet our hearts are the hardest thing of all to give up, to crack open. We zealously guard the inner workings of our hearts, lest we reveal who we truly are.  

There is no reason to fear opening ourselves to God. God is calling to you and me:  Come back to me. Even now, no matter what you’ve done or how far you’ve strayed, return to me with all your heart. I am gracious and merciful. I look forward to your homecoming with joyful anticipation. I am waiting with open arms to embrace you, to kill the fatted calf, and celebrate your return.

Action
God invites us to use the season of Lent as the time to divest ourselves of whatever keeps us from accompanying Jesus on his journey to Jerusalem, being with him through his passion and death, and sharing with him in the joy of his Resurrection.

There is a multitude of ways to observe Lent – fasting, prayer, and giving to the poor are three that Jesus mentions in today’s Gospel reading.There are also many online resources to choose from on https://www.ignatianspirituality.com/lent/.

“The Servant of All” by Melanie Rigney (@melanierigney)



“The Servant of All” by Melanie Rigney (@melanierigney)


So, submit yourselves to God. Resist the Devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you of two minds. Begin to lament, to mourn, to weep. Let your laughter be turned into mourning and your joy into dejection. Humble yourselves before the Lord and he will exalt you.  (James 4:7-10)

Throw your cares on the Lord, and he will support you. (Psalm 55:23a)

Then he sat down, called the Twelve, and said to them, “If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and the servant of all.” (Mark 9:35)


Piety
Father help me to slow down and love.

Study
Do you want to be first?

Okay, so maybe not first. But probably not last. Last can leave us with the piece of cake with the least frosting on it, the book with a flaw on the cover, the prayer card for a saint we don’t know anything about… you know, the leftovers physically or spiritually.

And yet, last is exactly where God wants us.

I have this sign on the wall at work. The source is anonymous, but it’s clearly Spirit-inspired:

If you want to go fast, go alone.
If you want to go far, go together.

Speed, you see, kills the soul. When we go fast, our eyes are on the finish line, not those who are struggling behind us. We don’t see their hands go up, asking for help or expressing despair. We don’t hear their ragged breath or see the sorrow in their eyes.

When we cease to be concerned about helping everyone—our family, our friends, our neighbors, the people we pass on the street every day or hear about on the news—in the way in which God desires, we take ourselves off the track to eternal salvation. Lent starts tomorrow. It’s a great time to get back on track.

Action
Slow down, you move too fast, as Paul Simon wrote.