The Sacrament of Jesus’ Life Among Us

Good Friday invites us to set aside our regular routines to enter a sacred time of quietness and reflection. Today’s remembrances beckon us to delve deeper into the depths of the unfathomable Paschal Mystery. We are invited to see it in it a sacred cycle inherent in the very fabric of our lives. A pattern relived within our personal ups and downs.  Our prayerful reflection seeks to draws us reverently into this mystery. The events of the Passion are an integrated segment of a whole: part of the unfolding mystery of God’s design. Thoughts can easily go awry if we too narrowly try to find the meaning of Jesus’ death apart from his ongoing incarnation, Jesus’ entire earthly life and his resurrection.

I propose that one might consider the writing style of Matthew, Mark and Luke akin to reporters of the daily news. These three writer’s provide the graphic details of  Jesus’ passion. Whereas, John’s approach more closely resembles the writing style of a documentary writer who wishes to convey a central message to his audience.

Sandra Schneider describes John’s central message in this manner:

“In the fourth gospel, events are not put forth in terms of sacrifice or retribution but in terms of self-gift: God so loved his own in the world that he laid down his life for them. Jesus’ self-gift was an act of friendship: “no longer do I call you servants…you I have called friends.” John’s gospel’s trilogy of –life, light, and love- captures [this] entire dynamic."

In God’s unfolding design the Word became flesh and lived among us. Jesus graciously took upon himself all that human life entailed. Faithfulness to his mission and message brought him face to face with opposing forces. An opposition strong enough to demand the death sentence of the times. That sentence entailed punishment cruelly meted out in accordance with the methods of the day- crucifixion.

We shouldn’t allow ourselves to be too myopic in our view of Jesus’ death on the cross but rather see it in the context of Jesus’ whole life. Let us treasure the image of the crucified Jesus not as one defined moment, but as the ‘sacrament’ of Jesus’ total life among us. Jesus’ fidelity to his mission without any limits put on the cost. An example for us of a life lived out as total self-gift.

Nancy Wales

Palm Sunday

 

 

A Donkey’s Tale

 Are you enamoured by my cousins, Eeyore, that loveable donkey from the tales of Winnie the Pooh or is your style more a moviegoer’s favourite, tough guy, Donkey, Shrek’s talkative sidekick? Do you sometimes find yourself humming that delightful Donkey Serenade, keeping company with a mule? Such light hearted fun; but let’s put aside talk of my fictitious cousins. Since truth is often stranger than fiction, let me tell you a little about myself, my humble self whom Chesterton once described in his humourous little poem as one:

 With monstrous head and sickening cry,

 And ears like errant wings,

 The devil’s walking parody

 Of all four-footed things.

But let me backtrack a little. About thirty three years ago, as legend has it, a humble little burro was chosen to carry pregnant Mary to Bethlehem to give birth to her Child. Did this not foreshadow the day I would be chosen to carry her Son into Jerusalem? I will never forget that day! How could I forget our humble God enthroned upon my back? I carried him that day, cautiously weaving through the cheering crowds, when all at once ‘There was a shout about my ears, and palms before my feet.’

His mission almost finished, I heard him warn his disciples that He would soon be put to death. Put to death, how could that be? Surely, I had gotten it all wrong!

I’m just a donkey, just the ‘devil’s walking-parody on all four footed things.’ Perhaps that’s all you think I am. However, when a distant rumble, ‘Crucify him’, pierced my ears, I stood and shuddered. In the distance I saw a cross upon a hill and wished I could have carried it for him.

No ludicrous buffoon am I. No donkey ever was. You see, because I carried the King, donkeys, generations after me, bear a cross upon their backs. May you, my friend, I beg you, think twice before you call someone an ass – for she or he, too, bears the divine.

 Sr. Magdalena Vogt, CPS

 

The Donkey

 When fishes flew and forests walked,

 And figs grew upon thorn,

 Some moment when the moon was blood,

 Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry,

And ears like errant wings,

The devil’s walking parody

Of all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,

Of ancient, crooked will;

Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,

I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;

One far fierce hour and sweet:

There was a shout about my ears,

And palms before my feet.

C. K. Chesterton

Passion Sunday

I am taking my reflection from the Passion narrative of Luke’s gospel just at the end of it which states “All Jesus acquaintances, including the women who followed Him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things.”

Hopefully as you read this reflection the weather will be more inviting and welcoming but today I want to reflect on the terrible cold weather of just a few months ago. I was driving down Main Street in Hamilton on the absolute coldest day I have ever experienced.  My car was delightfully warm.  I was so spoiled as to even have the seat warmers on.  However there I passed a younger man holding onto a pole without the proper clothing, no boots, no hat, no gloves.  This intersection is possibly one of the busiest in Hamilton.  While I was distressed to see this individual and annoyed that it had interrupted my comfort, I was sure somebody else would help him.  I continued on my way for a substantial distance when I came to my senses and realized I had to make sure he was ok.  I turned around and there he was in the same place with nobody there with him.  I felt I was doing my civic duty asking if I could call an ambulance for him but could get no response.  I went on a little way further and did call 911 but the dispatcher said that an ambulance could not be sent only if he had given permission for it and that the police would not come to check on somebody like him because they were too busy. I tried to tell her that this man must have some psychiatric issues but it became an argument as to how I could assess this?  Once again I drove around the block and there he was but this time somebody was trying to put some gloves on him.  He agreed to get into the car and I tried again to phone for an ambulance.  Thank God this other man did get through and an ambulance was coming…

From the back seat of my car I could hear the man repeating over and over again how troubled he was.  Finally the ambulance arrived and the woman attendant could not have been more attentive and compassionate to him. 

I, too, was troubled as I drove away, wondering what we as a city have come to?  Do you have to be rich, or influential in order to be treated fairly?  The very next day I wrote a letter to the police chief, outlining how I was treated and ultimately what poor attention this man received.  One of the police chief’s assistant’s contacted me and assured me that they would look into the matter.  Her response was that her father has Alzheimer’s and it could have been him out in the cold.  The good news is that a week later the woman contacted me again to say that all of the people involved were spoken to and that action had been taken.  She was most appreciative of the feedback and felt that in her words “this was the best resolution of a case that she has handled in her twenty-two years of service".

Today I am questioning myself - how often do I simply watch from a distance, not choosing to get involved? Is my relationship with Jesus from a distance or is it so intimately alive that I will put myself out there for the poor? Then at Mass shortly after this episode our Deacon quoted from Mother Theresa who said, "How can I truly recognize the poor among us if I am too poor to pray?"   My prayer is that I (we) continue to see with our eyes wide open!    

- Sister Ann Marshall