Friday of the First Week of Advent

"The LORD is my light and my salvation;

whom should I fear?
The LORD is my life's refuge;
of whom should I be afraid?" Psalm 27:1

Today's Gospel gives us a short story about two blind men begging on the streets in Capernaum. The life of a beggar in the ancient world was dictated entirely on the place that you were begging. They would have specific spots that they held as their own; places that they can count on people to pass by and give them alms. This was their livelihood; this was how they survived. As Jesus passes by, the two men leave their places and follow Jesus! They are unable to see, yet they throw caution into the wind and follow Jesus. By the time the two men get to him, Jesus has already entered a home, yet they still enter a stranger's home to talk to him.

What blindness do we have in our own lives? What is it that keeps us from getting away from what is comfortable in our lives? Wednesday we heard of the calling of the first Apostles, earlier in Matthew 9 we hear of the call of Matthew, and it seems that so often we wait for Jesus to call us to himself directly. Sometimes the call is much more subtle. In the case of these blind men, all they knew was that Jesus had passed by and they needed to be with him. No words exchanged. Jesus didn't pick them up. The blind men followed him. They just needed to be with him. We need to be with him. And as happens in the story, Jesus will always welcome those to come to him.

Lord, grant us the faith to run to you that we may be cured of our blindness.

reflected by Matthew Keppel

First Thursday of Advent: Admitting Allegiances

"Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the Kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.” – Mt 7:21

Richard Rohr remarked poignantly that we cannot genuinely pray “Thy Kingdom come” (as in the Our Father) out of one side of our mouths without saying “my kingdom go” out of the other side of our mouths. Moreover, we cannot serve two masters; we will always love one while ignoring the other (Mt 6:24). We often trust our own political parties, military, banks, credit cards, financial resources, families, cultural or religious groupings, significant others, or our own education or strengths more than God’s goodness and promise. When this happens, we are really saying with our actions, that we don’t genuinely want God’s kingdom to come.

Consecrated religious like me live by three vows: obedience, chastity, poverty. Of the three, I struggle the most with the third. More often than not, when I do not embrace actual or spiritual poverty, I will soon falter in the other two vows. Embracing poverty means placing greater trust in God’s Providential care and less on my own abilities, the financial stability of the Jesuits, or the goodness of people to provide. These are not mutual exclusive things, to rely on others’ goodness or in God’s. However, when I overly worry for a friend who suffers or another who cannot find a job, or overwork to get things done the way I’d like, or overcome by fears, or have my day “made”  by one person’s praise or “ruined” by another’s critique, am I just saying “Thy Kingdom come” but not letting other kingdoms go. This is a sobering realization.

While it is difficult, painful, and humbling to admit that I place greater trust in other thing, myself, or person more than in God, it is also freeing. Some days, I may have to acknowledge, “Lord, I’m doing it again, do you still love me?” some 50-100 times. Yet, gradually, a shift is made, whether I am aware of it or not. A focus away from myself and from my other allegiances. A greater reliance on God.

Maybe this is what Jesus means later in today’s Gospel when he challenges us to build houses on solid rock foundations rather than on sand. 

What “kingdoms” do you and I need to let go to make room for the Kingdom of God? It can begin with an open-eyed stance and acknowledgment, “Lord, I’m doing it again, do you love me?” or “Lord, I’m doing it again, please help/heal me.”

First Wednesday of Advent: Moved with Compassion

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.  In verdant pastures he gives me repose.  Beside restful waters he leads me; he refreshes my soul.” – Ps 23: 1-3a

“My heart is moved with compassion for the crowd …” – Mt 15:32

My cousin has been in the hospital for six weeks and is now in critical condition.  She is only 32 years old with a husband, an eight year old son, and another who is fourteen months old.  She is at the threshold of death and passing to the other side of eternity.  The doctors and nurses have done all they possibly can.

A number of us, including her husband, prayed with Psalm 23 at her bedside yesterday.  We were deeply consoled.  We prayed for a miracle as we struggled to accept the real possibility of her passing.  We wanted to let go and at the same time hoped against hope.  We struggled to trust in God’s shepherding goodness and strength yet wished that our loved one return to health.  Trust and surrender become so real when there is so much to lose.

As in an earlier quiet moment at her bedside, I sensed a mysterious presence.  In a way I cannot explain, I sensed Christ’s quiet, almost imperceptible presence.  He seemed to be moved with compassion for us.  He seemed to whisper “I am here.  I am here with you.”  We listened to the song, “You Are Mine,” and her husband sung along, “I will bring you home; I love you and you are mine.”  A part of my cousin-in-law wanted desperately to bring her home, a part of him struggled to entrust her more fully to God’s mysterious design.  I sang along and felt his suffering. 

I believe that Christ is suffering-with all of us.  Perhaps it is only in my imagination, yet somehow I am strengthened by the sense that Christ is moved with compassion for us. That he stands alongside with us, in a similar way that God was present with him on the cross.  I believe that trust is growing in each of us as we stand by my cousin, wrestling to accept and trust the advent of God. Please pray with us for her. Prayer can born greater solidarity.

First Tuesday of Advent: Letting God’s Spirit Rest Upon Us

“The Spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him…” – Is 11:2

Can you afford to pause for 5 minutes? It might shift your awareness or allows you to see today differently. Take 5 deep breaths. Breathe in fully … and ... breathe out completely. As you breathe in, imagine all that is goodness … strength … life … peace … love … flowing into you like fresh air … As you breathe out, imagine all that makes you tired … tensed … stressed … anxious … fearful … and restless leaving you like air already used up ...

Take the time to do that now.

In taking such deliberate deep breaths, we are doing more than breathing in air. We are welcoming ruah, the same Spirit of God that creates order out of formlessness and chaos (Gen 1:2). We are creating space for the Holy Spirit to rest upon us, to expand our thinking, to help us see differently.

Now bring to mind a situation or relationship you’re not looking forward to facing. Take another 5 deep breaths and imagine goodness, strength, life, etc. flowing into you again. Then, recall an experience of being loved, cared for, or when you were at peace. Savor it.

You may not notice any difference immediately. Yet, when we pause and breathe deliberately, we welcome the divine guest. We allow God’s Spirit to rest in us, recreating us anew. We say “yes” to the advent of God in our lives here and now.

First Monday of Advent: A Season of Hospitality and Hope?

“When Jesus entered Capernaum, a centurion approached him and appealed to him, saying, ‘Lord, my servant is lying at home paralyzed, suffering dreadfully.’ He said to him, ‘Shall I come and cure him?’ The centurion said in reply, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed …’” – Mt 8:5-8

There is evidence from this encounter with the centurion that Jesus was taken aback by the man’s request. Jesus could have been slightly annoyed as well, because the request stretches him beyond his primary mission of seeking the lost sheep in the house of Israel. It also puts him in an awkward position of transgressing Jewish norms forbidding free associations with Gentiles or non-Jews.  The centurion replies with great faith and offers an alternative way for Jesus to heal his servant. Jesus is moved with wonder and amazement at the man’s faith. Responding to an inconvenient request, Jesus is challenged to greater hospitality and hope.

It occurs to me that much of life happens when I’m busy doing other things. God happens when I am open to inconvenient requests for my time and attention. When I respond to a brother priest in need, I am surprised by joy. When I cared for myself with stomach flu, I discover God’s tenderness for me. When I become flexible with a deadline, I encounter a lonely man whose kindness stretches my own sense of gentleness. Joy, tenderness, and gentleness are surprising guests visiting my heart when I become a little more hospitable. Honestly, I begrudgingly welcomed these inconvenient guests because they rearrange my inner furniture. (Sometimes, they do more, as Rumi describes). Yet, hope also accompanies them.

Is Advent a season of hospitality and hope? Could it be an invitation for our busy schedules and encumbered hearts to be disrupted by unexpected guests and requests to be present? Will we allow ourselves to be challenged to greater hospitality and hope?

p.s. – Happy Feast of St. Francis Xavier, a man whose heart was wholeheartedly given to the divine guest and became an arsonist of the heart, stirring faith in so many people, especially those of us from Asia!

A suggestion for daily prayer/reflection during Advent:

1. Relax. Take 5 deep breaths. Become aware of God’s presence.

2. Ask for the grace to listen.

3. Read the reflection slowly and pay attention to what stirs within you.

4. Speak and listen to God about what is happening within.

5. Rest in God who rests in you. Express gratitude when you finish.

First Sunday of Advent: Stripping Away, Uncovering, Revealing …

"There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on earth nations will be in dismay, perplexed by the roaring of the sea and the waves … But when these signs begin to happen, stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand." – Lk 21:25-28

The readings in the beginning of the new Church year depict the end of time.  They paint disturbing images of imminent disaster or final doom, of great natural catastrophes and cosmic calamities associated with the apocalypse and the last judgment.  Honestly, they stir up various fears within me, as well as incredulity and vulnerability.

The word “apocalypse” means a stripping away, an uncovering, a revelation.  It is less a prediction of the future as much as an invitation to look at a deeper reality.  Like a stripping to essentials, an uncovering of a deeper truth, a revelation of something that is already there.

My cousin in her early thirties and another young woman I know are facing life threatening diseases.  They are experiencing great trials and tribulations. They are fighting against great odds and struggle to embrace occasional breakdowns.  What moves me is the strength of their spirit that is being uncovered.  Their sufferings reveal expressions of faith that can endure all things. Their hope and their gratitude to God inspire me.

Apocalyptic processes involve something greater or deeper being revealed as something lesser is being stripped away. Light beneath the darkness and the shadows. A new order peeking through the disorders in our lives. The Advent Season invites us to wait through the struggles for a fuller coming of life and grace. Rumi’s playful wisdom hints at this apocalypse: “Love's secret is always lifting its head out from under the covers – ‘Here I am!’”

Is there a stripping away or uncovering process occurring in your life? What is your attitude towards it?

A suggestion for daily prayer/reflection during Advent:

1. Relax. Take 5 deep breaths. Become aware of God’s presence.

2. Ask for the grace to listen.

3. Read the reflection slowly and pay attention to what stirs within you.

4. Speak and listen to God about what is happening within.

5. Rest in God who rests in you. Express gratitude when you finish.

God’s Promise is Being Fulfilled

“Your steadfast love is before my eyes; I walk guided by your faithfulness.” – Psalm 26:3

Today marks the one year anniversary of final vows for me. So many of you were there in person at the plaza of Dolores Mission Church or were present in spirit. Thank you for being an integral part of God’s promise being fulfilled in my life.

I remember the celebration with vibrancy: shades of red, yellow, and blue lights streaming through the canopy, colorful outfits that come alive, smiles and laughter on the faces of everyone present – people of Dolores Mission, members of my biological, Jesuit, CLC, LMU, St Bruno, Dorothy Kirby families and friends. All manifestations of Christ, the Church in multicolor.

It is true that we discover our unfolding path and purpose as we live out our commitments deeper. This past year has been a solid and steady confirmation of God’s calling and promise. Recently, my Provincial has given the green light to build a new ministry bridging young adults and the Church (especially the local church). I was ecstatic (and a bit shocked) to receive this news. For God’s promise is being fulfilled. I was delighted, not so much for myself, but for the Church – for God’s people, young and old alike.

Thank you for your continual support of friendship, prayer, and companionship in living out God’s dream for our lives. May you allow the Spirit to lead you to greater life and love – to wherever God’s promise takes you.

Click here for some photos of the celebration

Click here for the homily during the Mass

Blessings!

Tri sj

Letting Jesus Heal our Wounds: Second (Mercy) Sunday of Easter

"Peace be with you … Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe." – Jn 20:26-27

Thomas did something we would all like to do. It would be so much easier to believe if we could touch and see the wounds of Christ. Yet, the wounds of Christ are present every day in many different ways. I can still touch them; perhaps I just don’t see them.

We are all wounded. Some of us carry the wounds that are deeper and more intense than others. These wounds can be physical or spiritual, recent our long-standing. An injection or a pill isn’t enough to hear these wounds. Healing is an internal process that puts things right, and to do this we need to face our wounds.

Jesus carries out wounds. In today’s gospel, Jesus invites Thomas to touch the wounds in his hands and side. In so doing, Jesus is also inviting Thomas to come face to face with his very own wounds, which Jesus is carrying. It is only by facing his own wounds that Thomas can be healed and then proclaims, “My Lord and my God.”

We, like Thomas, are invited to face our wounds, which Jesus carries for us. Like Thomas we are invited to heal whatever it is that threatens life within us. Moreover, we are called to touch the wounds of Christ in others around us. In doing so, we and allow the grace Jesus offers to heal the wounds that prevent us from being whole. And we will find the strength to rejoice, “My Lord and my God.”

Each day this past week, we glimpse into an aspect of the Risen Jesus. He is already present, in a new form, consoling with healing and peace, inviting us to let go, eliciting joy, and sending us to testify to love. May the joy of this Easter Season bring about a greater, deeper renewal in each of us and in our communities!

adapted from Anthony Chezzi

Impossible not to Witness Love: Saturday within the Octave of Easter

“It is impossible for us not to speak about what we have seen and heard.” – Acts 4:20

"Go into the whole world and proclaim the Gospel to every creature." – Mk 16:15

Genuine love cannot be contained. Like the life-force emanating from all created beings, it is resilient, persistent, unstoppable. Like water over-spilling its container, love when full overflows beyond a person’s heart and hands. Peter and John in Acts 4 risk further imprisonment and persecution by proclaiming that it is impossible not to testify to what they’ve experienced regarding the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

Through retreat work and sharing the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, I am very blessed to know people who are experiencing God’s love in such a way and depth that they cannot keep it to themselves. Their tales of transformation are inspiring: a young woman is quitting her high paying job to spend four months serving the poor and making a month-long retreat not because she’s having a crisis, but because she wants to respond more deeply to God with her life; a single mother who struggled with depression, trying to earn love and seek approval much of her life now shares about the joys of praying early every morning, taking walks with God, experiencing peace consistently, even through her times of loneliness, and empowering her children to honest discovery of their own faith; a reserved Vietnamese man apologizing to his children and family in public with an honesty and humility that elicits similar courage from other men; a young couple grieving the loss of their newborn with raw openness and strength that reverberate through both of their own extended families. These stories are proclaimed by action more than by words.  These people carry out St Francis of Assisi’s advice: “Proclaim the Gospel always; and when necessary, use words.”

There is a clear pattern happening to these people: as they allow themselves to be touched, healed, forgiven, lead, etc… they magnify God’s love and goodness. They cannot keep such life-force to themselves. Moreover, the more they let God effect grace in their lives, the more they become instruments of peace and joy. Step-by-step, in ordinary living, with openness, they join this revolution of love, this conspiracy of grace, this contagion of life. They manifest an ordinary witness of extraordinary love. They inspire people around them. I am one of these people, who is empowered to be likewise.

Who around you are witnesses of grace? Spend time in their presence and joy.

“O Risen One, grace me with your humility and courage to magnify your presence and love in the way I treat people around me.”

A Presence already Present: Friday within the Octave of Easter

“Jesus revealed himself again to his disciples at the Sea of Tiberias. He revealed himself in this way.” – Jn 21:1

One of my favorite TV shows was Joan of Arcadia. It is about a typical family whose teenage daughter encounters God through regular people, like a boy on the bus, a cafeteria worker, a school secretary, etc… In every episode Joan is given a challenging or surprising mission through which God teaches her life-giving lessons. In the pilot, the God-figure confounds her with: “Joan, I am not appearing to you. You are seeing me.” She begins to learn the difference between “appearing” and “revealing.” When appearing, a person enters a room he or she was absent before. When revealing, a person becomes unhidden, concealed, known. But he or she has always been present, albeit veiled.

John’s Gospel does not use the term “appear.” Instead, the verb the verb “reveal” is used deliberately to highlight a dimension of the Risen Christ: He is already here, hidden in every moment and circumstance, including ordinary ones. In today’s Gospel, the disciples go back to ordinary life as fishermen and catching little. Toward dawn, they discover him already present among them. Later, they realize he has been preparing a BBQ on the beach for them all along. Slowly, they recognize that the Risen Jesus has always been present, gifting them with his presence and feeding them.

It is a challenge in my busy life, especially in the fast-paced world of the West Coast, inundated by phone calls and texts, requests, FB messages, Tweets, to live in the moment. Especially when living the moment involves getting in touch with or accepting a difficult feeling, person, or circumstance. The Little Way of Saint Thérèse of Lisieux helps, “Do ordinary things with extraordinary love.” I don’t know about extraordinary love, but breathing in while praying the mantra “Jesus, flow into me” helps. It’s my little way to make space for the Risen One who is already “here” revealing himself and feeding me. The Easter Season is a time to live out our faith in the mystery of the Resurrection. To adapt a statement by Gerald May, we are called to trust that “grace is always present, always available, always good, always life-giving, always gratuitous.”

“Help me Lord, to live more fully each moment as a response to your love.”