Are you still on the dance floor?

Sr. Dorcee, belovedLeave a comment

Those of you who heard my sharing about my brother, Tim’s death, will probably remember my reference to the importance of “staying on the dance floor” with God when we’re in the midst of trials and troubles.  I was alluding to a concept from Michael Card’s book, A Sacred Sorrow, in which he talks about the purpose of lament in the Christian’s life.  In talking about Job’s response to the terrible things in his life, Card points out Job’s response after finding out that all his children had been tragically killed.  After he tears his robe and shaves his head . . .

What he does next is totally unexpected, even unimaginable.  Until this moment nothing remotely like it has happened in the Bible.  Till now Job has responded as he should have, as he was expected to respond, as you and I would probably respond.  What he does next seems unthinkable, almost impossible.

“Then he fell to the ground in worship.”

That response alone determines the rest of his experience in the book, both good and bad.  It must have been that aspect of his spiritual life that had caused God to boast about him in the throne room scene in the first place.  Job is the sort of man who will simply not let go of God.  To him, is what worship means.  He will stubbornly cry out in the groanings of this lament, which is worship until God answers.  As Brueggemann would say, he refuses to leave the dance floor until the dance is done.

So my question for you is whether you are still on the dance floor with God about whatever is causing you to lament at the moment.  I’ve been asking myself the same question . . .

Look at the Chickadee (Repost)

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A repost from a year ago.  (I still love this poem!)

A beautiful snow last night and this morning a bird singing outside my window.  This brings to mind a poem by Jessica Powers about a chickadee in a snow storm.  There is always something to be learned from God’s creatures if we just take the time to look and ask Him to help us to really see.

Look at the Chickadee

I take my lesson from the chickadee
who in the storm
receives a special fire to keep him warm,
who in the dearth of a December day
can make the seed of a dead weed his stay,
so simple and so small,
and yet the hardiest hunter of them all.

The world is winter now and I who go
loving no venture half so much as snow,
in this white blinding desert have been sent
a most concise and charming argument.
To those who seek to flout austerity,
who have a doubt of God’s solicitude
for even the most trivial of His brood,
to those whose minds are chilled with misery
I have this brief audacious word to say:
look at the chickadee,
that small perennial singer of the earth,
who makes the week of a December day
the pivot of his mirth.

~Jessica Powers

A darker house

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Today we will take down the rest of our Christmas lights, and the house will be darker.  (See: God loves to light little lights.) Consequently I couldn’t help thinking about this: There were a few manifestations of who Jesus truly was at the beginning of His life, but then years of seemingly nothing. Thirty years of living a hidden life in Nazareth.  Isn’t that how our lives can seem to be as well? We walk mostly by faith, and not by sight. May we remember that no matter what we can see or not see, Christ is still always there in our lives . . . no matter how dark the house may get.

A book to help you get through the darkness: One Thousand Gifts.

Lights in a darkened church

Sr. Dorcee, beloved2 Comments

Today is the Feast of the Presentation:

When Christ was presented in the temple, “there was a man in Jerusalem named Simeon, and this man was just and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel.” When St. Mary and St. Joseph brought Christ to the temple, Simeon embraced the Child and prayed the Canticle of Simeon: “Now thou dost dismiss thy servant, O Lord, according to thy word in peace; because my eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before the face of all peoples: a light to the revelation of the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel” (Luke 2:29-32).

Because of the words of the canticle (“a light to the revelation of the Gentiles”), by the 11th century, the custom had developed in the West of blessing candles on the Feast of the Presentation. The candles were then lit, and a procession took place through the darkened church while the Canticle of Simeon was sung.

What a loss that nowadays we seldom see this procession observed.  It would be such a wonderful precursor of the Easter Vigil in this time before Lent.

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From the Office of Readings for today, a marvelous sermon by St. Sophronius about how we, ourselves, can be shining lights.

In honor of the divine mystery that we celebrate today, let us all hasten to meet Christ.  Everyone should be eager to join the procession and to carry a light.
Our lighted candles are a sign of the divine splendor of the one who comes to expel the dark shadows of evil and to make the whole universe radiant with the brilliance of his eternal light. Our candles also show how bright our souls should be when we go to meet Christ.

The Mother of God, the most pure Virgin, carried the true light in her arms and brought him to those who lay in darkness. We too should carry a light for all to see and reflect the radiance of the true light as we hasten to meet him.

The light has come and has shone upon a world enveloped in shadows;the Dayspring from on high has visited us and given light to those who lived in darkness. This, then, is our feast, and we join in procession with lighted candles to reveal the light that has shone upon us and the glory that is yet to come to us through him. So let us hasten all together to meet our God.

The true light has come, the light that enlightens every man who is born into this world. Let all of us, my brethren, be enlightened and made radiant by this light. Let all of us share in its splendor, and be so filled with it that no one remains in the darkness. Let us be shining ourselves as we go together to meet and to receive with the aged Simeon the light whose brilliance is eternal. Rejoicing with Simeon, let us sing a hymn of thanksgiving to God, the Father of the light, who sent the true light to dispel the darkness and to give us all a share in his splendor.

Through Simeon’s eyes we too have seen the salvation of God which he prepared for all the nations and revealed as the glory of the new Israel, which is ourselves. As Simeon was released from the bonds of this life when he had seen Christ, so we too were at once freed from our old state of sinfulness.

By faith we too embraced Christ, the salvation of God the Father, as he came to us from Bethlehem. Gentiles before, we have now become the people of God. Our eyes have seen God incarnate, and because we have seen him present among us and have mentally received him into our arms, we are called the new Israel. Never shall we forget this presence; every year we keep a feast in his honor.

No others like it

Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment

I have a little flip chart of quotes from St. Thérèse.  It has been open to the quote below for weeks (and I’m still not ready to flip it).  I hope your reading it will increase your confidence in the greatness of God’s personal love for you.

Just as the sun shines simultaneously on the tall cedars and on each little flower as though it were alone on the earth, so our Lord is occupied with each soul as though there were no others like it.

“With each soul . . .”  That means you.

Christ asleep in us

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Last Saturday’s gospel was the very familiar passage about Jesus sleeping in the boat.  St. Augustine has a fine commentary on it:

When you are insulted, that is the wind.  When you are angry, that is the waves.  So when the winds blow and the waves surge, the boat is in danger, your heart is in jeopardy, your heart is tossed to and fro.  On being insulted, you long to retaliate.  But revenge brings another kind of misfortune–shipwreck.  Why?  Because Christ is asleep in you.  What do I mean?  I mean you have forgotten Christ.  Rouse him, then; remember Christ, let Christ awake within you, give heed to him . . . . “Who is this, that even the winds and sea obey him?”

Love found me needing Him

Sr. Dorcee, beloved1 Comment

Today’s poem comes from Amy Carmichael:

Love, travelling in the greatness of His strength,
   Found me alone,
Footsore and tired by the journey's length,
   Though I had known
All the long way many a kindly air,
And flowers had blossomed for me everywhere.

And yet Love found me needing Him.  He stayed;
   Love stayed by me.
"Let not your heart be troubled or dismayed,
   My child," said He.
Slipped from me then, all troubles, all alarms,
For Love had gathered me into His arms.

Gathered storm

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Sometimes a thunderbolt will shoot from a clear sky; and sometimes, into the midst of a peaceful family–without warning of gathered storm above or slightest tremble of earthquake beneath–will fall a terrible fact, and from that moment everything is changed.  The air is thick with cloud, and cannot weep itself clear.  There may come a gorgeous sunset, though.   (George MacDonald)

Loved by Christ

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In this Monday’s Office of Readings (for the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul), John Chrysostom wrote, describing St. Paul: “The most important thing of all to him, however, was that he knew himself to be loved by Christ.”

How many of us can say that about ourselves, that the most important thing of all to each of us is that we know ourselves to be loved by Christ?  That reminds me of a quote I’ve shared before, but think it apt to share it with you again:

Not long ago I received in the mail a postcard from a friend that had on it only six words, “I am the one Jesus loves.” . . . When I called him, he told me the slogan came from the author and speaker Brennan Manning.  At a seminar, Manning referred to Jesus’ closest friend on earth, the disciple named John, identified in the Gospels as “the one Jesus loved.”  Manning said, “If John were to be asked, ‘What is your primary identity in life?’ he would not reply, ‘I am a disciple, an apostle, an evangelist, an author of one of the four Gospels,’ but rather, ‘I am the one Jesus loves.’”  What would it mean, I ask myself, if I too came to the place where I saw my primary identity in life as “the one Jesus loves”?   (Philip Yancey)

May the Holy Spirit, the love of Christ that has been poured out into our hearts, bring us more and more to this point.

Breaking the jar

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Every other month we host an Evening of Reflection for young single women.  We have a simple dinner, a speaker, and time for adoration.  This past week, we were graced with a talk by Dr. Mary Healy (Professor of Scripture at Sacred Heart Major Seminary).  I thought you would enjoy hearing her reflections on Mark 14, the story of the woman breaking the alabaster jar.  You can listen to it here: Woman breaking the alabaster jar (Mk 14)