Wednesday of the First Week of Advent
IS 25:6-10A
PS 23:1-3A, 3B-4, 5, 6
MT 15: 29-37
As the prophet Isaiah proclaimed,
On this mountain the LORD of hosts
Will provide for all peoples...
As the Psalmist wrote,
I shall live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life.
As Jesus spoke,
“My heart is moved with pity for the crowd...
I do not want to send them away hungry...”
^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^
Three years ago, as I reflected on these same scripture passages for this same Advent series, my thoughts
were drawn to the problem of scarcity and the abundance that is Christ Jesus. Today, as I reflect on these
scripture passages, my thoughts are drawn to the problem of fear, and to my obligations to overcome that
fear, in light of all that the Lord has promised me.
Friendship, care, hospitality, abundance. The Lord has shared it all with me. Let me not be afraid, so that
I might do the same, in His image.
^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^
As an economist, I’ve learned the great potential and value of human freedom. A people who are free, the
discipline of economics teaches us, are a peaceful and a materially prosperous people.
As a Christian, I’ve learned that freedom is a Gospel theme. As Jesus declared in the Gospel of St. John,
“...the truth will set you free” (John 8:32). As St. Paul wrote to the Galatians, “It is for freedom that
Christ has set us free” (Gal. 5:1). The Gospels’ freedom though is different than economic freedom. The
Gospels’ freedom is not mere freedom of choice. The Gospels’ freedom is found when we truly accept that
we are created in God’s image, and then conform ourselves to that image. We experience the Gospels’
freedom, paradoxically, when we constrain ourselves; when we choose to not let fear overcome us; when we
bind ourselves in servitude to others and share our friendship, care, hospitality, and abundance - joyfully, in
the image of God.
Gracious and loving God, as You became my friend, through the incarnation of Your son; as You have shown
me radical care and hospitality; as You have promised abundance to me; help me to not be afraid of others.
Help me to become friends with strangers; to show radical care and hospitality to all; to share with others
the abundance available to me. In so doing, help me to experience the freedom of the Gospel, the freedom
that comes when I choose to not be afraid and bend my will towards You.
Friendship, care, hospitality, abundance. The Lord has shared it all with me. Let me not be afraid, so that
I might do the same, in His image.
Bonnie Wilson is Associate Professor of Economics in the Cook School of Business.
Every day during Advent, students, faculty, and staff from across the SLU community will share reflections on the intersection of the Scriptures of the day, the liturgical season of Advent, and their own lives.
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Reflection for Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Tuesday of the First Week of Advent
IS 11:1-10
PS 72:1-2, 7-8, 12-13, 17
LK 10: 21-24
IS 11:1-10
PS 72:1-2, 7-8, 12-13, 17
LK 10: 21-24
Hope, Promise, and Fulfillment:
“I come as a pilgrim of peace and a messenger of hope.”
Throughout the Scripture readings of Advent are littered conceptions of promise and fulfillment. The prophet Isaiah and the passage of today’s reading serve to exemplify this. Throughout the book of Isaiah is the hope and promise of a future prophet, a wise and just leader. Isaiah’s hopes are exemplified in the psalm as well (psalm 72). The psalmist anticipates this perfect king proclaiming peace and justice.
In our own world, on our campus at SLU, Advent is often full of this desire for peace, hope, and fulfillment. It’s a four week long sigh, one that can be deeply exhaled into a sense of full stillness and presence. It’s an alternative to our busyness, an insistent invitation to pay attention. This year (not unlike other years) there’s a tiredness, a feeling of depletion. I see it in the students I connect with, and in my interactions with colleagues across campus. Busyness and self-inflicted chaos shrink our worldview, our ability to be present, and our empathy for others. Advent is an invitation to sit right here. In this moment as we are and with what we are carrying. Not who we wish we were or what we are capable of at some elusive time and place in the future. It is a time to consider who we are and who God will become. How the anticipation of the Incarnation will be lived out.
But what of Isaiah’s call to justice? How can we marry this need for stillness with this call to justice? As we consider ourselves in this place and time, and the anticipation of Emmanuel (God with us) Pope Francis offers a poignant illustration.
This past week Pope Francis arrived in the Central African Republic (CAR). He is there to inaugurate the year of mercy. The CAR is a country marked by intense conflict causing the flight of almost a million refugees, contentious regional factions (often along religious lines), and a tumultuous presidential election on the horizon later this month. Upon his arrival he said to the gathered crowd; “I come as a pilgrim of peace and a messenger of hope.”
In light of today’s readings there is a particular significance to his visit. The road ahead for this conflict torn country will be long and arduous. Much like the first reading from Isaiah there is a call to righteousness and peace rooted in justice and the impossibility of oppositional factions becoming neighbors, co-creators.
There is a clarity to the righteousness Isaiah speaks of, one that Pope Francis echos. Not righteousness in the sense of self-righteousness that we often think of today. But rather a firm insistence that God stands on the side of the poor, of the suffering, of the marginalized. In the second part of the passage Isaiah illustrates several contradictory images of foes co-existing peacefully; “the wolf shall be a guest, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid”. These and others are more than some adorable Buzzfeed article of cute animals cuddling. They are seemingly paradoxical illustrations that may lead us to justice. Or as Pope Francis spoke of from the CAR an appeal to “lay down the instruments of death.”
I encourage you to sit with this paradoxical need for inner stillness and ardent work for justice this Advent. How might we imitate become pilgrims of peace and messengers of hope? Perhaps our need and ability to cultivate a deeper sense of spiritual wellness and abundance might lead us to greater compassion to our intertwined communities from here in St. Louis to the Central African Republic. Our personal abundance and global justice might intersect at our Advent desire for hope, promise, and fulfillment in our sustaining Creator.
Cynthia Enghauser is Campus Minister for the Nursing School and the College for Public Health and Social Justice.
Monday, November 30, 2015
Reflection for Monday, November 30, 2015
Feast of Saint Andrew, Apostle
MT 4: 18-22
I’ve been
fishing a few times in my life. When I
was little, I went camping with my mom and brother and we did get into a
rowboat and actually fish. Mostly what I
remember about fishing were the worms that we had to put on the hooks. Not too pleasant to a little girl. There are different types of fishing. One is that image of sitting in a rowboat out
in a vast lake with little around. One
is fly fishing, which my friend John at John Carroll University says is a whole
different ballgame. The other is
commercial, the kind where you cast your nets.
Today’s
Gospel from Matthew (4:18-22), gives us the story of Simon (Peter), Andrew,
James, and John who are called by Jesus to join Him. They were all fisherman and Jesus came upon
them as they were casting their nets. I
can imagine all of them, hauling nets and fish out of the sea. And I can imagine their surprise as Jesus
asks them to follows Him and be fishers of people. Their father Zebedee must have thoughts they
were crazy to get up and leave it all.
The Gospel story does not share how they were feeling, what they
experienced, what emotions they had. But
we can imagine that in the story.
Perhaps they were awed, frightened, or even joyous and excited. Perhaps Zebedee was angry or maybe he was thrilled
that Jesus called his own people.
As I reflect
on the Gospel and on my experience of fishing, I share a few elements. First, if you are in a boat, fishing by
yourself or perhaps with friends, one thing you experience is the silence. You have to be quiet when you fish so you
don’t scare the fish away. You also have
to be patient. It is a good way to pray
about Advent – finding some moments of quiet and stillness, and yes perhaps
even patience, to reflect on the story of the birth of Jesus and on your part
in that story.
Second, when
you are fishing, you are experiencing God’s beauty and creation. As Pope Francis points out in his encyclical Laudato Si’, “nothing in the world is
indifferent to us” and so as we experience creation, whether it be in fishing
or in a walk in a forest, we imagine how we treat creation. This is also a good way to pray during
Advent. How do we treat the creation
around us and care for it, just as Jesus was born to care for us.
Finally,
imagine the enormity of working with a fishing crew and lots of outrageously
huge nets. I can imagine myself trying
to cast those nets out into the water and bring back the bounty of the
sea. But I can also imagine casting my
own net wider than that. As Peter,
Andrew, James, and John were called to cast their wide nets for people who
would be followers of Christ, how do I cast my own net wide enough to include
all those people around me? Given the
injustices and murder and trouble in today’s world, how am I a welcoming
presence to those who are different than me?
And in praying about Advent, how can I be like that wide eyed baby Jesus
– loving all who I place my eyes upon.
How can I see Christ in everyone I encounter – no matter what color,
status, religion, or state in life?
As we enter
the first week of Advent, let’s think about these reflections and include them
in our prayer. How can I find moments of
quiet, solitude, and yes patience with myself and others? How do I treat the creation that is around
me? And how do I welcome the stranger
into my life, just as the disciples welcomed the stranger Jesus?
Sue
Chawszczewski is the Director of
Campus Ministry.
Sunday, November 29, 2015
Reflection for Sunday, November 29, 2015
First Sunday of Advent
JER 33:14-16
PS 25:4-5, 8-9, 10, 14
1 THESS 3:12-4:2
LK 21:25-28, 34-36
“The days are coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise,” writes Isaiah in today’s reading. The promise is of a new reality for the people of Israel. The promise to be fulfilled is that a “just shoot” will arise in the house of David and that through that one, justice will be established and when justice, peace also will follow.
This is the reading for the first Sunday of Advent, which, in the Church’s calendar, marks New Year’s Day. The new year starts with a promise from the Lord. And the promise is spoken to the people in the midst of their exile. It is spoken at a time when it seems that promise is really very far off form being fulfilled.
This seems a desirable prophesy for today as well. And it seems just as unlikely that it will be fulfilled now as it probably did then to the people of Israel. We think of Syria and Iraq and the slaughter of innocents that ISIS continues to perpetuate. We think of the intractable conflict between Israel and Palestine, of the Ukraine, of the immigrant crises in the Mediterranean and on our own southern border. We think of the violence on our own streets in St. Louis and the ever widening gap between the haves and the have nots, throughout this country of ours and in every part of the world today.
Justice? Peace? Really?
It is a new Church year starting today. Advent means coming toward. The Lord is coming toward us again in a new ways. But we are not pretending that he has not already come, definitively. God has has already come in the flesh in the person of Jesus Christ 2000 years ago. But this is a new moment for us to try to open up again, anew, to that coming, and to let it transform us. Christ comes to transform the world into something different, to overcome our isolation, our fear, our pettiness, our hatred and divisions that we establish among ourselves. The way Christ comes is in what looks like weakness.
This is the key for us. Peace can be established around us in our daily living if we allow that same method of Jesus to be ours. Instead of spending most of our time blaming all those other people “out there” for not being just and not establishing peace, let the call be to start with ourselves today.
Fr. Chris Collins, S.J. is Assistant to the President for Mission and Identity.
JER 33:14-16
PS 25:4-5, 8-9, 10, 14
1 THESS 3:12-4:2
LK 21:25-28, 34-36
“The days are coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise,” writes Isaiah in today’s reading. The promise is of a new reality for the people of Israel. The promise to be fulfilled is that a “just shoot” will arise in the house of David and that through that one, justice will be established and when justice, peace also will follow.
This is the reading for the first Sunday of Advent, which, in the Church’s calendar, marks New Year’s Day. The new year starts with a promise from the Lord. And the promise is spoken to the people in the midst of their exile. It is spoken at a time when it seems that promise is really very far off form being fulfilled.
This seems a desirable prophesy for today as well. And it seems just as unlikely that it will be fulfilled now as it probably did then to the people of Israel. We think of Syria and Iraq and the slaughter of innocents that ISIS continues to perpetuate. We think of the intractable conflict between Israel and Palestine, of the Ukraine, of the immigrant crises in the Mediterranean and on our own southern border. We think of the violence on our own streets in St. Louis and the ever widening gap between the haves and the have nots, throughout this country of ours and in every part of the world today.
Justice? Peace? Really?
It is a new Church year starting today. Advent means coming toward. The Lord is coming toward us again in a new ways. But we are not pretending that he has not already come, definitively. God has has already come in the flesh in the person of Jesus Christ 2000 years ago. But this is a new moment for us to try to open up again, anew, to that coming, and to let it transform us. Christ comes to transform the world into something different, to overcome our isolation, our fear, our pettiness, our hatred and divisions that we establish among ourselves. The way Christ comes is in what looks like weakness.
This is the key for us. Peace can be established around us in our daily living if we allow that same method of Jesus to be ours. Instead of spending most of our time blaming all those other people “out there” for not being just and not establishing peace, let the call be to start with ourselves today.
Fr. Chris Collins, S.J. is Assistant to the President for Mission and Identity.
Saturday, November 28, 2015
What are you waiting for?
Often enough, Advent is presented as a waiting game - when I was a child the Advent calendar with its daily piece of chocolate was a way of making it a little more bearable to wait four whole weeks for Christmas. So this year, as I think about the beginning of this season, I ask myself (and you):
I imagine two senses in which that question could strike the reader. What are you waiting for? In one sense, it asks what hope, what anticipation is keeping you afloat. The waiting is for something to come, something to happen, from outside. That reading fits well with the literal meaning of Advent, from ad + venire, "to come to," like the refrain of that old Advent song, "O Come O Come Emmanuel": "Rejoice, rejoice/Emmanuel/Shall come to thee, O Israel." Such a "waiting in joyful hope" resonates with the final words of the Bible: "Amen! Come, Lord Jesus!"
But that question reads differently if we read it with the insistence of the person whose life depends on a different future (avenir), a rearrangement of the powers that be, something new that is yet to come (a-venir). What are you waiting for? Where are you? What is keeping you from doing something about the blood of the innocents which cries from the earth? Why do you not do something to repair the world which is being run off its tracks?
While I suspect that most Christians have a hard time imagining it, the Biblical tradition is loaded to the gills with people having the audacity to ask those laden, anguished questions of God: "How long, O Lord?" "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Looking at the immensity of the needs around us, we might transpose those questions onto ourselves and our peers or, better yet, listen more attentively to the anguished voices that have been asking us those questions and awaiting our response. In Syria and Lebanon, in Mali, in Paris, Iraq and Afghanistan, in Ferguson and Baltimore and so many other places which cry for a newness to come, our desire to wait is a luxury that people cannot afford.
What are you waiting for?
As Martin Luther King put it, "Time itself is neutral; it can be used either destructively or constructively." If we choose simply to wait for things to change in our world, wait for God to drop a better world in our laps, then December 25 will come and go like any other day. If we celebrate the birthday of Jesus without enacting that which he enacted with his life, unto his death - the reign of God, the promise of a radical newness which is to come into people's lives - then we turn the season and the day into an anniversary rather than an invitation.
As Martin Luther King put it, "Time itself is neutral; it can be used either destructively or constructively." If we choose simply to wait for things to change in our world, wait for God to drop a better world in our laps, then December 25 will come and go like any other day. If we celebrate the birthday of Jesus without enacting that which he enacted with his life, unto his death - the reign of God, the promise of a radical newness which is to come into people's lives - then we turn the season and the day into an anniversary rather than an invitation.
But it IS an invitation: Campus Ministry invites you to reflect with us every day this season as our friends, students, and colleagues share their dreams and their efforts to enact a world which we have been promised. We invite you to act with us to build that world which we hope and trust is to come. And we invite you to celebrate with us in our weekly and daily liturgies across campus.
What are you waiting for?
Patrick Cousins is the Assistant Director of Campus Ministry.
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Reflection for Thursday, December 25, 2014
The Nativity of the Lord (Christmas)
Mass at Dawn
IS 62: 11-12
PS 97: 1, 6, 11-12
TI 3: 4-7
LK 2: 15-20
Thank you for remaining with us through this season of patience, self-examination, and preparation. We hope that the daily writings by members of the SLU community have been helpful and that, like Mary in the gospel, you have reflected on these things in your heart.
Mass at Dawn
IS 62: 11-12
PS 97: 1, 6, 11-12
TI 3: 4-7
LK 2: 15-20
Thank you for remaining with us through this season of patience, self-examination, and preparation. We hope that the daily writings by members of the SLU community have been helpful and that, like Mary in the gospel, you have reflected on these things in your heart.
What Child Is This?
How could it be
that the Creator of the Universe
would think of me?
How could it be
that the Creator of over
a trillion galaxies
would care for me
as a mother, her baby?
How could it be
that the Creator of over
300 hundred billion stars of our galaxy
would comfort me
as a father, his child?
How could it be
that the Creator of the Universe
would conceive of pomegranates
peaches, plums, and apples
to feed me?
How could it be
that the Creator of the Universe
wishes me to call Him, Father?
How could it be
that the Creator of the Universe
would come to me
as a helpless baby
lying in straw in a manger?
How could it be
that the Lord of the Universe
would come to me as a child,
the Christ Child
telling me he needs a
home in my heart?
J. Janda
Reflection for Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Advent
2 SM 7: 1-5, 8B-12, 14A, 16
PS 89: 2-3, 4-5, 27 AND 29
LK 1: 67-79
2 SM 7: 1-5, 8B-12, 14A, 16
PS 89: 2-3, 4-5, 27 AND 29
LK 1: 67-79
Here we are at Christmas Eve day. The readings remind us of the promise to David of a heir. They revisit the proclamation of Zachariah.
But, our hearts might be moving in three directions today.
The cultural pull to celebrate Christmas is upon us - no matter what our family or cultural tradition. We might be excited or we might be worried. We might be prepared and ready and will be anticipating a wonderful time with family and friends. We might not yet be fully prepared and the day is hectic. Or, I might be celebrating Christmas alone.
Our religious memory reminds us of why we celebrate Christmas. We could be imagining the holy couple - Joseph and Mary - having made their way to Bethlehem, late and with nowhere to stay. Today, the scene can become very vivid for us, whether we plan to celebrate Midnight Mass tonight or to celebrate tomorrow morning. The crib scene has a story. Our Savior - God with us - did not come into a wonderful palace, like the one David built. Jesus was born into a very lowly place. This is the wonderful sign of God's self-emptying. This is how God chose to come and be among us - as a new born baby, in a manger, a feeding trough. Our Savior comes in this way, and it can become most meaningful today, if we let ourselves chew this good news, in the midst of whatever we are doing. It can mean so much if we let it. It can be a part of what we celebrate tonight and tomorrow. Yes, there might be people and parties, and there might be gifts shared. But, we can be filled with something our world will likely not be celebrating - that our God is a God who desires to meet us in the lowliest places in our lives. God with us, Jesus, comes to "save his people from their sins."
The third movement possible for us today is to remember, to collect, the graces of this Advent journey. For some of us that might have been a great four weeks of feeling that our longing for a closer relationship with our God has indeed come. I might feel forgiven and loved at a deepr level. I might be giving thanks that some darkness within me has experienced light. We might sense that some desert has bloomed with new life, in this new relationship. We might be feeling a greater freedom and a greater fire within our heart to love as we have been loved. We might even feel more prepared to go out to the places where others are feeling darkness and lowliness, and experience the call to bring light and joy there. Or, we might find ourselves not have been able to get around to Advent, right up to this moment. There still is time today. We can prepare for tonight and tomorrow. We can ask "Come, Lord, Jesus," in this moment. We can experience a longing in our hearts to know Jesus' love and mercy, and to feel a small "Rejoice," or even a really big one, flow from deep inside.
Let us approach the manger of our salvation tonight and tomorrow with great openness to the graces each of us can yet hope for and receive - for our own inner peace, and that we might bring peace to others in our lives, because of what we ourselves have embraced.
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
Reflection for Tuesday, December 23, 2014
Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Advent
MAL 3: 1-4, 23-24
PS 25: 4-5AB, 8-9, 10 AND 14
LK 1: 57-66
MAL 3: 1-4, 23-24
PS 25: 4-5AB, 8-9, 10 AND 14
LK 1: 57-66
All who heard these things took them to heart, saying, “What, then, will this child be?
"But wait, there's more!" "Wait for it......" "Wait, wait don't tell me!" As frequently as we hear these statements one might think that we live in a culture that supports "waiting." By the time Advent is here, it ought not to be too tough to engage in the spiritual practice of "holy waiting." But our waiting is usually measured in seconds; something that has little resemblance to Advent waiting.
For many of us, these past few weeks have been filled with getting, giving, dressing up and trying to think of clever ways to display fruits and vegetables and cheese as Christmas trees, candy canes, and Santas - but little waiting. The only waiting most of us have been doing is in checkout lines, buffet lines, and for those of us who find the series of Christmas parties slightly painful, waiting to go home. And none of these count unless we consciously let those moments draw us into holy waiting. And the good news is we have two days left in which to experience this sacred practice!
What is "Advent waiting"? We are only willing to wait for something we want, so let's start there. What is it you want? Health and healing for a loved one? Reconciliation with a friend? Love and affection from a family member? The awareness that we are deeply loved by a tender Creator? Freedom from our attachments to busy-ness or being needed, helpful, powerful, esteemed, approved of? Can we quietly hold the depth of our desire - entering into the spaciousness of that present moment, welcoming the longings of our heart? The Advent invitation is to notice those longings with patient trust and awaiting – moment by moment - the grace of God's appearance. This is the crucible where we are refined and purified, “like gold and like silver.” Today's first reading also reminds us that the desires we have for ourselves, God also has for us. Indeed, God's desires for our collective wholeness, well-being and reconciliation far surpass ours.
Today's gospel offers images of waiting. Elizabeth had many months to ponder the name of her unborn baby...which family member would be honored with a namesake? Contrary to customs, she awaited God's choice: "he will be called John." One wonders how she knew. How long do we wait for God’s guidance in our own decisions? And Zechariah, having just as many months waiting in silence, affirmed Elizabeth's choice. Can we wait in silence, holding our tongue, until we hear God's voice?
How will I recognize God's presence? The birth of Jesus reminds us to look closely and carefully for something that may be small or vulnerable or tender or seemingly insignificant, in an unlikely place and time.
How will I recognize God's presence? The birth of Jesus reminds us to look closely and carefully for something that may be small or vulnerable or tender or seemingly insignificant, in an unlikely place and time.
Monday, December 22, 2014
Reflection for Monday, December 22, 2014
Monday of the Fourth Week of Advent
During this chilly December day, we are 5 days away from the one of the greatest religious events to happen in the history of mankind. The time leading up to this day can be clouded with so much preparation and planning for family coming into town, last minute Christmas shopping, packing clothes for a vacation, etc. Throughout the Christmas season, I often find myself going through the motions in the days leading up to the birthday of Christ. The challenge for me along with others in the days leading up to Christmas is to actively listen to what is going on around me and to those speaking to me. Both the first reading and the Gospel for today call on the House of David and also on Mary to listen to the Lord. Even during this extremely busy time of the year, we are called, just as we are every other day of the year, to take time out of our day for the Lord and listen to what He has to tell us or show us.
Mary, who said yes to God’s call and gave her life to God, was the first disciple to her son and can be the greatest role model for us as we approach Christmas. She followed the word of God, trusting in his plan for her and for the rest of the holy family. Her ears were open to the voice of God and she continually gave Him the time that was necessary for her to fulfill the will that He planned for her. Like Mary, we are challenged to listen to God in such a faithful way so that in our conversation with Him, we are always aware of the will that He has planned for each every one of us.
Bradley Mueller is a senior studying neuroscience.
Saturday, December 20, 2014
Reflection for Sunday, December 21, 2014
Fourth Sunday of Advent
The focus of today’s liturgy is the Davidic covenant, the promise of a throne that will last forever. It appears in the First Reading, in the Responsorial Psalm, and in the Gospel, where the angel Gabriel announces to Mary that “the Lord God will give (her son) the throne of David his father.”
Jesus is to transform that covenant, revealing “the mystery hidden for many ages.” The throne in this new kingdom is to be occupied by “the Son of the Most High ... the Son of God.” Indeed, he is “Emmanuel,” God-with-us. We are very close now to the coming of Christ. What would the world be like if we were to allow Christ to really come as king? What would a world ruled by Jesus Christ be like? Would we have the poverty and homelessness that we have now? Would we have the death penalty? Would there be abortion and child abuse and negligence of the elderly? Would Jesus Christ allow the people of his kingdom to kill each other in wars? If only we could join in consenting to God’s rule as Mary did: “Let it be done to me as you say.” Who knows what joy the world would know!
The Church ... receives the mission to proclaim and to establish among all peoples the kingdom of Christ and of God. She becomes on earth the initial budding forth of that kingdom. While she slowly grows, the Church strains toward the consummation of the kingdom and, with all her strength, hopes and desires to be united in glory with her King.
Vatican II, Constitution on the Church (1964) 5
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