Friday of the Third Week of Advent

“Thus says the Lord GOD, who gathers the dispersed of Israel:
Others will I gather to him besides those already gathered.”
Is 56:8

So often in scripture do we hear about the fervor that God has to tend to His lost sheep. Jesus says how the shepherd would leave his flock in order to find that lost one, and rejoices when that one is found. The message in that is clear, and so very true: repent and God will gladly draw you home. Here we have God speaking through Isaiah say something similar, yet distinctly different. 
We all have those friends, you know, the ones that never really had a religion. They are the friends that we envied when we were kids. They never had to go to Mass on Sunday, they got to watch MTV, and their parents were cool. I’m not sure how the last point happened, but it always seemed to happen. Maybe some of us were even those kids. These are to whom God is speaking today. It seems odd, right? God has spent nearly 6,000 years speaking to the Hebrews promising them redemption and relationship with Him, yet here is God utilizing the mouth of a Jew to speak to non-Jews, in this case Babylonians! Now, in my childhood, I would as my dad for the reason that we had to go to mass, or why I wasn’t able to do certain things. In his infinite wisdom, and a response that many other Christian children have heard, “If you go to church on Sundays, you will go to Heaven.” I reasoned that if this were true, those who didn’t go to church didn’t make it into heaven. It’s that little bit of peace you feel when you see the person who cut you off rear-end someone else down the road. It’s justice. But that isn’t quite what God is telling us. 
The Hebrew people wanted the same retribution and reward that we all want when bad things happen to us. In terms of history, few peoples have truly endured the suffering of conquered and enslaved people like the Hebrews. They wanted what they felt they deserved. Yet, here we are today, those of us who are a part of the redeemed. How many of us can count the Hebrew people as a part of our ancestry? I am certain that very few. Most of us are a members of a Church gathered together sanctified by God, thankfully not by men. 
The reality that God has put forth is that many of those same kids I once envied are either unhappy with their lives or sit right next to me on Sunday. They are the ones who have yet to see the Light that God sent to the world or they have given up what they once had to follow that light. It is those people, former (and current) sinners that God uses to teach us His great love: that the only limit we put on a relationship with Him exists within our own hearts. 

How often do we open up our hearts to those who are different from us?
Do we forgive or condemn those who have done wrong to us?
Do we allow people who live different from us to garner our attention instead of God?


reflected by Matthew Keppel

God's Enduring Covenant

"Though the mountains leave their place and the hills be shaken, my love shall never leave you nor my covenant of peace be shaken,  says the LORD, who has mercy on you." - Is 54:10

The great news of our faith is that God makes an enduring covenant with us. Unlike many business and marriage arrangements, this covenant is more than a contract. A contract can be revoked if one party does not fulfill the terms of the agreement. A covenant can be sustained by the fidelity of one member, even if other parties fall short. The strength of our relationship with God lies with God's faithfulness and not with our failures and weaknesses.

In the 27 years of intentional relationship with God, I have faltered countless times. I have allowed my selfishness, past pains, present attachments, or fears about the future to overshadow God's enduring acceptance and love for me, and for everyone around me. To win me back, God shows tough love through many creative ways. Like good parents, God allows me to suffer the consequences of my foolish choices; God withdraws God's tangible presence in my life to deepen my longing for God and purify my lesser desires; God gives me opportunity to learn patience and trust in answering my prayers for those very virtues; God allows me to suffer by carving out greater space in my life and relationships for a more enduring love, like God's. Through all these ways, I gradually grow in shifting from focusing on myself and my abilities or failures. God's committed love is the bedrock of my striving to be faithful. When I behold God's consistent fidelity to me, I can imagine upholding my commitments. When I look at my parents' 49 years of committed love or a brother Jesuit's 50 years of priesthood, I experience hope.

Large earthquakes do happen in our lifetime. Life changing events, like major earthquakes, do shake us: loved ones do die, friends can leave us, significant losses and poignant suffering do visit us. Yet, geological processes that move mountains and elevate hills rarely happens. Even if they did, God's faithfulness and love endures. This is God's promise to us. 

Have God ever been unfaithful to you? What happens within when you recall the ways in which you have been loved or cared by God or others in your life? Get in touch with this.

New Imaginings

“Go and tell John what you have seen and heard” – Luke 7:22

The first thought that came to mind with today’s Gospel was a question: Why didn’t Jesus just answer with a “Yes”? Why, when John told his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come,” didn’t He give a straightforward answer? What is this roundabout response?

I often ask Jesus the same question in my own life, wondering why when I’m looking for answers, rarely – if ever – do I get a direct one. Whether it’s related to simple day-to-day activities or the larger wonderings of life’s purposes, I sometimes wish God would just be upfront with me. Wouldn’t that be nice? 

Then I’m answered with a question, something to stir my imagination and look from a different, deeper perspective. It’s almost as though Jesus is saying in his response to the disciples, “Here is the new reality you see before you. What do you think? Is it what you thought it’d be, or perhaps even, something more?” 

There’s an invitation, then, to move beyond the “yes” or “no,” into a new way of looking - one that is open to possibilities, leading to the promise of a deeper peace and joy than anything I could imagine. I find myself learning to look more at God, trying to trust in His mysteries, rather than focusing on my understanding and attempting to figure things out. 

St. John of the Cross, whose memorial we celebrate today, reminds me to continue listening in the quiet moments, to find the stillness within – seeing, imagining, and believing anew for myself “the one who is to come.”

How might I be encouraged today to look beyond the “yes” or “no” in my life? What new perspective might Jesus be inviting me to imagine?

O blessed Jesus, give me stillness of soul in You. Let Your mighty calmness reign in me. Rule me, O King of Gentleness, King of Peace.

Prayer of Peace by St. John of the Cross

reflected by Quyen Ngo

Feast of Saint Lucy

“In your kindness remember me, because of your goodness, O LORD.
Teach me your ways, O Lord.” -- Ps 25:7

The word “kindness” now stays with me all the time, because of some incidents that happened to me in the past week…

Last Sunday evening, I was driving home after dropping my kid off at church, suddenly the car died, in the middle of the road, at a dangerous winded spot where there was no street light! It was a cold rainy night, and panic set in immediately when I pushed the emergency lights and they didn’t even work, so it’s pitch black all around me! Worse yet, I realized I didn’t have my cellphone with me; as we had rushed out of the house I didn’t even grab my jacket, thinking I’d just go for a quick 5-minute dride! After a few seconds debating what to do, I stepped outside. I must have waived at 10 cars but they kept on driving, splashing water all over me. Finally, one car stopped. (A quick shameful feeling jolted me, when I saw that the woman driver was of a certain “nationality”, and I hate to admit that I used to have some stereotypical prejudice agaisnt them – so this just goes to show a similar “Good Samaritan” lesson, but this topic can be reserved for a different reflection by itself.) She let me borrow her cellphone; I called my daughter at church and asked her to find someone there to rescue me. Truth is, I couldn’t think of anyone or anything else in that situation. After that quick phone call, the woman drove off; I was back on the curbside, alone in the dark, soaking wet, feeling so terrified as if I were in a horror movie myself, and I imagined all kinds of dangers that would happen to me any minute. Heck, I would have had a heart attack if only a black cat jumped out of a bush! I was scared and sad and angry; the rain kept pouring, and somehow the streams of water tasted pretty salty when they touched my lips… In any case, I was very blessed that only 10 minutes later, a youth leader came out to help me jump-start the car and he even escorted me home. Needless to say, that night I prayed extra hard, and gave extra thanks to our God for the kindness shown to me through other people.

The next morning, it’s still cold and rainy. I asked my daughter, repeatedly, to put on the thick hooded jacket. She kept mumbling, “no…no…I don’t want to…”. Anyone who went through a “power struggle” with a teenager could picture how fun this could be! So I blew up and yelled at her – big time! Oh how so little control I had over my temper, and my poor little girl looked rather stunned yet frightened - drops of tears came out from the corners of her eyes. After dropping her off at school, I found myself overwhelmed with shame and guilt ... In the past sometimes I wondered how a certain person could be so “cruel” to me; I lamented at how someone could treat me so bad or use harsh words with me unnecessarily. Now I committed the same offense, even worse. Just the previous night, I went through a tremendous experience, I was feeling pretty grateful when I recognized and received God’s kindness, how come I could not practice kindness toward my loved ones? What about the famous teaching “love is patient, love is kind” (1 Cor 13:4)?

Maybe it’s easier to show “kindness” – in form of “politeness” – to other people (than those in our close circle), since we’re more prudent to watch our language/behavior to guard our reputation? A little hypocritical in human nature?

Reciting my own examples seems trivial and inconsequent, and my warp sense of humor tells me that God must have tested me and I failed miserably! However, nowadays I trust that God’s Grace will guide me through and through. Reflecting more on this Twenty-fifth Psalm, I came to understand that it is God's goodness, God’s kindness, that I must rely upon. And I pray that I can learn to make “Kindness” the modus operandi from now on!

Dear God, please help us look honestly at our own “ways” and our behaviors. We are crying out sincerely, “TEACH US YOUR WAYS, O LORD”… Please teach us to be kind, all the time and to everyone.

anonymous

Third Sunday of Advent - More God, Less Me

“A man named John was sent from God. He came for testimony, to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came to testify to the light.” – Jn 1:7

St Catherine of Siena gives solid spiritual counsel. She says that there are three basic lessons in the life of the spirit. First, that God exists. Second, that God loves you very much. Third, you’re not God! The more we allow life to teach us these lessons, the more our life will be built on a firm foundation.

John the Baptist is an excellent model and teacher of this foundation building. In today’s Gospel, we come to know that he is not the light, nor the long-awaited Messiah, nor a Moses-like prophet. He humbly admits that he does not come close to such great figures. He acknowledges that he is not God, but one who came to “testify to the light” to “make straight the way of the Lord.” Later in John’s Gospel, he sums up his role succinctly, “[Jesus-God] must increase, I must decrease” (3:30).

It is easy for me to miss this fundamental truth that the spiritual life is about subtraction, not addition. In these busy days filled with Christmas preparations, parties, and buying gifts, I can easily get caught up having to do more and to acquire more. Thinking that I need to add-on brings increased self-pressure and self-preoccupation. How can I balance my time, fit everything in, make it happen? Thinking this way and hosting such attitude born choices that elevates my self-importance. I am again tempted to self-sufficiency, to earn love, to buy love, or at least make myself loveable. More me, less God.

John’s call to subtract and let-go wakes me up. I am not the One, but an echoing voice. I am not the Way, but one who clears path. I am not the Light, but a mirror that reflects. I don’t need to make it happen, just to let it happen. More God, less me. Such realization brings more than just relief.  It gradually ushers greater freedom and joy. I don’t have to be God. I can allow myself to be loved, in my foolishness and selfishness. In doing so, I can testify beyond words that God loves all of us very much!

“Lord, help me to let go of self-pressure or craving to be self-sufficient. Help me to place more trust in you and less in myself. Empower me to help others experience more of you and less of me.”

Second Saturday of Advent: Brick walls challenge resolve

“Elijah will indeed come and restore all things; but I tell you that Elijah has already come, and they did not recognize him but did to him whatever they pleased.  So also will the Son of Man suffer at their hands.” – Mt 17:11-12

On September 18, 2007, Carnegie Mellon computer science professor named Randy Pausch gave his last lecture before of dying pancreatic cancer a year later at the age of 47. His talk was meant to encourage his children to follow and achieve their childhood dreams with patience and persistence. Yet, millions of people have viewed his talk on YouTube, to see a man facing death with contagious energy, clear optimism, and a joyful purpose. One of his wise counsels was about seeing challenges as opportunities: “Brick walls are there for a reason. They let us show how badly we want things.”

I find an interesting parallel in attitude between Randy and Jesus. After coming down the mountain after his Transfiguration, Jesus faced a brick wall with his disciples, who impatiently asked about the prophesized return of Elijah before the “day of the Lord” (Mal 3:23). They apparently have to come believe that such coming of the Messiah would bring them the rewards they (as the Jewish people) had been long promised for their faithfulness. They did understand that the return of Elijah was fulfilled in the mission of John the Baptist. But they failed to understand that suffering must precede the realization of hope. That in the spiritual life, something has to die for something greater to emerge. Like a caterpillar dying to its worm-like life to be transformed into a butterfly. Like a baby leaving the inner world of his or her mother’s womb to become alive in the outer world. Although I try to be patient, I find myself caught up at times expecting instant results and fruits, in prayer as in people. At times, I focus on certainty rather than confidence, needing to know that something will happen and clinging to fear rather than trusting that God knows best and will bring it about in God’s time and God’s way. I am challenged to trust God’s dream more than follow what I think best.

I’m grateful to be reminded by Randy Pausch’s message that brick walls provide an opportunity to deepen resolve and deepen desire. Come to think of it, Randy’s role is more like John the Baptist than Jesus’. He points to way to the One who can help us beyond brick walls. To see brick walls as stepping stones rather than stumbling blocks.

How am I clinging to certainty? Or am I trusting with confidence? Help me, O Lord, to trust in your mysterious ways and that you seek what is best for us.

Friday of the Second Week of Advent

"If you would hearken to my commandments,
your prosperity would be like a river,
and your vindication like the waves of the sea;
Your descendants would be like the sand,
and those born of your stock like its grains,
Their name never cut off
or blotted out from my presence." Is 48:18-19

There is something that is so very comforting about this promise that God makes to us through the Prophet Isaiah. It's obvious really, so simple; it's something that we repeat time and time again to ourselves and those around us: if we follow the commands that God has given us, we will be eternally rewarded. But, in reality, just to follow is not that simple. Apparently the Church, and in turn God, has quite a sense of humor around this subject.

The Gospel speaks of Jesus addressing the crowds who doubt that he is the Messiah. Mind you, the Jewish people have been waiting for the one that God was to redeem them by for thousands of years. They knew what he was to be, how he was to act, and what he was going to do for the people. They knew it! Yet they didn't know. So many wise and learned men stood toe to toe with Jesus and couldn't see who he was because they were so focused on what they wanted him to be. Jesus was ritually unclean because he associated with the sick and sinners. Culture had taught the Jews to avoid the outsiders. Unfortunately, this resulted in the dehumanizing of those people who were in greatest need of love. Those who did see Jesus for what he truly was were witness to a light beyond all compare. It is through those men and women with open hearts that the world was set ablaze.

Lord, what keeps me from seeing you as you truly are? Do I let what I want Jesus to be stand in the way of how Jesus has revealed himself to me?

"Ite Inflammate Omnia" - St. Ignatius of Loyola

reflected by Matthew Keppel

Invitations of Trust

“For nothing will be impossible for God.” – Luke 1:37

Today’s Gospel recalls a scene I’ve known well since childhood, a staple in my church’s annual Christmas play: the Angel Gabriel appears to Mary, announcing that she will become the mother of a boy named Jesus. It never occurred to me until recent years, though, that this could have gone quite differently. After all, God gave each of us free will, didn’t He? Mary could have just as well said “No” to this visitor who came with such a strange greeting.

What was it, then, that allowed Mary the freedom to say “Yes” in the midst of the uncertainty that was placed before her? I would imagine that the situation seemed murky at best, and probably downright scary. Yet, she was open. As we celebrate her Immaculate Conception today, we are able to see how her focus on God, away from the distractions of sin, gave way to a deep trust and confidence in His promise, His word.

Invitations come my way too, well beyond my understanding. To look at dreams, brokenness, pains, desires. They are rabbit holes and craters in my life where God wants to do some open-heart surgery and give birth to a new reality of life. It sometimes gets really scary! Yet, even though I wasn’t born without sin like Mary, I’m nudged with just enough courage to try and say “Yes” through her intercession and God's grace. I'm learning that oftentimes, it’s just to take the next step – not being able to see much more, if anything, beyond that. Yet, it’s enough. If I know that I am trying my best to stay close to God, what more do I really need to know?

What areas in my life might I be invited to take a deeper look into right now? What fears might I notice surfacing? What grace do I need to try and say “Yes”?

O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us.

reflected by Quyen Ngo

Memorial of St. Ambrose, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

“...learn from me...you will find rest for yourselves.” Mt. 11: 29

The readings today say two main things to me. God’s in charge; He can handle it. And, God gives us rest. In Isaiah, God asks, incredulously, why the people cry out, "My way is hidden from the LORD, and my right is disregarded by my God.” I love the response: “Do you not know, or have you not heard” that God is the eternal creator who does not grow weary of caring for you? Rhetorical question or a awesome example of Divine sarcasm?

I have the sense of God asking: “Seriously? What part of ‘omnipotent’ has got you stumped? I got you.” I hear God’s exasperation at my own thick-headedness. It calls me to remember that the God who made everything knows, cares and answers my needs. The second part of the first reading and Gospel both remind me that God’s life in me will give me rest.

The Gospel has another line that I love. Jesus says, “I will give you rest.” But next words are not, “put your feet up” or “sit a while.” They are: “hey, carry this with me.” The whole point of this reading for me - which I have read often in the last year - is the “with me” part. The sooner I shoulder up to Christ, and try to carry the load by His example, the easier this all gets. Then, the wellspring of Life itself begins to well up in me and I find rest. When I try to carry a different yoke, or carry the one Christ offered in some novel way, I hear Jesus say to me in my heart, as a beloved teacher or a caring parent: “Not like that; try it the way I showed you.” Then I can say with the psalmist “O bless the Lord, my soul!”

How do I try daily to follow Christ’s example?

What burden, distress or sadness has made me weary? How has God shown tireless care for me?

How is God inviting me this Advent to renew my strength?

St. Ambrose, pray for us.

reflected by Jason Coito

Feast of Saint Nicholas

This Thanksgiving, I was asked to think of 3 things this year that I was thankful for. Surprisingly, THE struggle made the list! I thought I was doing well with God… a few other disappointments and I found such peace and joy in Him. But when the economic delays hit my finances and even more so, when I was concretely helpless in others’ struggles, it hit me.

This was/is the year to face my limitations and weaknesses. During the time when the job hunt got rough, I couldn’t understand why I was so discouraged and couldn’t find joy in Christ.

Today’s Gospel reading reminds me of our limitations. How the paralytic, because of his disability, couldn’t reach Jesus amongst the crowd. But thanks to his friends who carried him on a stretcher through the roof, he was able meet Jesus and be healed.

The beauty of community. How God uses the relationships around us to bring us to His fulfillment. My pride got in the way of this awareness at first, but by frustration then grace, I was able to see that people around me gladly extended to help and were willing to embrace all of me… weaknesses and all. Being more open and honest with this area (to myself, others, and to God), was a new thing to me. It was rough, but then again, God’s not boring; and really, I probably wouldn’t have listened any other way.

Who are the “stretcher- carriers” in your life? Who fills your limitations and brings you back home where you feel most safe and loved?

God of Surprises! You remind me of a Vietnamese chef. My mom uses the bone for this dish, the fat for that... thank You for using all of me, even the parts that I feel are unfit, to nurture growth, relate to others, and to draw me close to You. May I "go when You tell me to go and stay where You tell me to stay" even when it hurts. For in this present moment, You are here.

reflected by Chau Nguyen