News from Sophia Christi

Over the last week and a half I have been changing my vision. It’s been a fascinating process full of contrasts, with significant gains and losses. I’m still adjusting to this new way of seeing the world, noticing colors and textures I was blind to before. But I’m no longer able to read the page in front of me without a significant correction! Some of you may have had this experience when cataracts were removed from your eyes. It’s a simple procedure, really, but for some of us it drastically changes the look and feel of the world around us. For me this past week has been a continual meditation on Light and the often-overlooked reality that it is the contrast between darkness and light that makes the experience of both so profound.

In this same week we have been squeezed through a tiny crack in our nation’s cosmic door where denial and darkness seems to have prevailed. It has been wrenching to watch, to hear, to hold a flimsy thread of hope at the same time knowing the dark forces were formidable and likely to triumph. Holding on to hope is a difficult task in these dark and seemingly darkening times. We need perspective to face the present moment in history. We need to alter our vision and remove the cloud from our lens if we are to be what Jesus calls us to be—salt of the Earth, light of the world. It isn’t enough to claim these titles here in church then go into the world leaving the Gospel behind—shaking our heads at the next proud face of darkness. Our task is to BE the Light, to BE the Salt. How do we do that when our hearts are grieving, as we watch values we hold dear trampled and see the ongoing oppression of peoples and exploitation of earth’s resources with no regard for the future of our planet? How do we stay in the game with hearts open, kind, non-judgmental, generous, honest—all the virtues of Light? Is it even possible to flavor this soup when the ingredients are so bitter and rancid? The even bigger question, though, is how do we continue believing our thoughts and actions matter, that our attitudes make a difference in the larger scheme of things? In fact, how do we believe what Jesus tells us—that we are “Salt of the Earth,” and “Light for the Nations”—except for a fleeting moment? Maybe just while we’re sitting here today? (more…)

“You are my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight.” These words from the prophet, Isaiah, are echoed in the words Jesus hears at his Baptism on the banks of the river Jordan: “This is my Own, my Beloved, on whom my favor rests.” Isaiah’s words are taken from the first of his four “Servant Songs,” poems often referred to as “Songs of the Suffering Servant.” All four Gospel authors, as well as Paul, have connected these songs to Jesus. His life and teachings were seen as the fulfillment of all the prophecies in Scripture that envisioned a coming Messiah, and his crucifixion and death drew an even deeper connection for them between Jesus and the “suffering servant” of Isaiah.

This first of the four Servant Songs was written after the Babylonian exile. Prior to the Exile people in Jerusalem were leading a rather materialistic and prosperous life. The external rewards of wealth, status and power focused their energies and attention on themselves and their personal goals, much as they do with us today. The covenantal relationship between Israel and God were far in the background for most people. Their self-absorbed, pleasure-seeking attitudes left them isolated and disconnected from each other. It was tearing the fabric of who they were as a people to shreds. The result was a destructive imbalance that threatened everyone and everything. Families were affected. The local community was affected. Even the world as they knew it was affected. (more…)

Listen to these words from St. John of the Cross:

If you want, the Virgin will come walking down the road pregnant with the holy, and say: “I need shelter for the night, please take me inside your heart, my time is close.” Then, under the roof of your soul, you will witness the sublime intimacy, the divine, the Christ, taking birth forever, as she grasps your hand for help. For each of us is the midwife of God, each of us. Yes there, under the dome of your being does Creation come into existence eternally through your womb, dear pilgrim—the sacred womb in your soul, as God grasps your arms for help; for each of us is God’s beloved servant never far. If you want, the Virgin will come walking down the street pregnant with Light and sing.

Our Advent stories ask us to enter the mystery hidden in the depths of our tradition. It is the mystery of a wild man on fire with the Spirit, out there in the dark and threatening wasteland urging us to stop posturing, get rid of our armor and become open to the spirit so God can enter our lives. It is the mystery of Mary’s unqualified “yes” to a bizarre, life-changing invitation spoken by an angel, and her ability to recognize God’s presence in that moment and throw caution to the wind in her response. John the Baptist is the figure who seeks our attention. His loud and insistent voice announces the approach of a new reality, one so awesome we are put on alert! This isn’t business as usual—we need to prepare! What we are preparing for is birth. These are the final days of pregnancy. We are preparing a place for that new life that is on its way. We are making space in our hearts and in our minds—a space of welcome—by clearing out those attitudes and ways of being that stifle our ability to love deeply and unconditionally. We are getting ourselves ready for an even deeper love.

Mary fills the long, dark hours of waiting. She is pregnant with the Divine Child whose immanent arrival John announces. She is often hidden behind the scenes in feast days that rarely happen on Sundays, but without her there would be no story at all. (more…)

Today’s readings are difficult to hear, especially the story from Maccabees. We might even wonder why this retelling of torture should be appropriate at Mass, even though the developing belief in resurrection is featured here. And we might bristle at the Gospel’s reminder of patriarchal priorities that see women as simple instruments, there to insure that men have heirs. Women themselves are rendered non-persons by the law these Sadducees are referring to—necessary to its objectives but otherwise simply property. Jesus doesn’t address that law, we might notice. The concept of resurrection is the issue here, for the Sadducees and for Jesus. The belief had been developing in Jewish tradition long before Jesus came on the scene. We inherited that belief and it was reinforced through Gospel accounts of Jesus’ own life, death and resurrection. The Church wants to remind us of this belief that is central to our tradition and our faith, and so we have these readings today.

But we can also listen to these stories through our own set of lenses, lenses set in frames that critique power dynamics in all their many forms, whether appearing in society, government, church or even the family. Such forces of oppression threaten our world in ways unimaginable to first century people living in the Middle East. Our issues are global now and our beliefs and experiences as human beings are all over the map. So it may be especially uncomfortable here, in church, to be reminded again of the devastating schemes played out against individuals, whether imposed by the brutal intentions of empire, enforced by social standards or instilled through religious rules and dogma. It probably isn’t what we come to church for! But here we are and, like a book that drops from a shelf and opens to a page in front of us, the annihilation of sacred personhood is something we are asked to look at today. (more…)

The former biblical scholar, Patricia Sanchez, told this story in her commentary for Celebration magazine three years ago. It involves children on their way to school in Johannesburg not long after the ending of apartheid in 1994. They had known segregation all their lives and now the rules had abruptly changed. Changes in mindset and social patterns though take time. As they rode the bus to school an argument broke out about who was supposed to sit where. One student said, “blacks in back; whites in front.” That led to a huge quarrel that began to rage through the bus. At the next stop the driver pulled over and stopped the bus. He got up and faced the group. “There are new rules in place,” he told them. “There is no more black and white, no more segregation. We are, all of us, experiencing a new beginning. We are all green with new life.” With that he returned to his seat. Before starting the engine a small voice behind him piped up and said, “Dark green in back, light green up front.”

Prejudice dies hard. And when the rules of engagement change there is often a backlash. Waves of resentment about lost privilege are unexpectedly released and, sooner or later, they catch up with the change agents. We see this happening all around as once marginalized voices find the courage to tell their stories and begin to show up at the table. We see it as displaced cultures turn up at our door needing food, shelter, and medical care. We see it in the backlash against Pope Francis by some bishops, cardinals and powerfully connected groups and individuals calling him a heretic. Inevitably the people classified as ‘outsiders,’ by whatever dominant culture, are met with anger, hatred, arrogant dismissal and, often, violence. (more…)

I imagine most of us have had the experience of being lost at one time or another of not knowing where we are in relation to where we’re trying to go. That’s one form of being lost. It can be annoying, but we can look at a map, stop for directions, even get help with our phone. It’s not a big deal. It’s just frustrating. Eventually we find our way. But REALLY being lost is another thing. Really being lost is more like being on a hike in the wilderness in winter, losing your compass and all sense of direction, and knowing your survival is at stake if you can’t get oriented and find your way back to the trailhead. What is it to be lost THEN? The one lone sheep who has wandered away from the other 99 in tonight’s Gospel is that kind of lost, and it has no instinct for finding its way back. Left on its own, it will not return. It is only the shepherd’s love-driven search that stands between its survival and its immanent death. Can you identify with that bewildered and terrified lost sheep? Have you ever felt that alone, that stranded and vulnerable? (more…)

Jesus shocks us into attention today by telling us to turn our backs on our families and everyone we love, or we cannot be his disciple! This is a statement very few of us can swallow. Turning our backs on family and loved ones makes little sense to most people, and it seems the very opposite of what the Gospel commands! How can we love our neighbor and ourselves and, at the same time, turn our back on those who are closest to us—those we love, those who often present us with our greatest challenges around loving? It’s a conundrum until we realize Jesus’ first-century Palestinian listeners aren’t disturbed by his words. This is a familiar style of speech to them. It is used to underscore and emphasize a point, increasing the importance of what is being said. No one in the crowd would have taken him literally to mean they should renounce (or hate!) their families and loved ones. So what is Jesus saying, then? What is his point? I think it comes down to the message he delivered to Mary Magdalene when he spoke to her before the empty tomb that pre-dawn morning following his crucifixion. “Don’t cling to me,” he said. Don’t cling. “If you will follow me you must let go.” Clinging is a fear-based response to the threat of loss, and all change brings loss. Clinging is the opposite of freedom, and disciples must have freedom. Jesus’ final words to Mary that morning were “go and tell my sisters and brothers all I have told you.” Go and tell; spread the word. We must have freedom to move, freedom to think, freedom of mind and heart if we are to be given a mission and trusted to carry it out. Detachment from anything that would hold us back, therefore, is an ongoing requirement for every disciple. It is an uphill journey for most of us and, in many ways, detachment is the central challenge and theme of every life, conscious or not. (more…)