Vocation: no spectators allowed

I love this Sunday's reading from Mark's gospel (1:29-39). It shows us that Jesus was a busy guy, doing what he was called to do. He went to synagogue to pray with his community, healed Simon Peter's mom in the afternoon, and cured people of illnesses and cast out demons later that evening. Then I'm guessing he snatched a few hours of sleep before getting up while it was still dark to converse with God in a deserted place before continuing his efforts to spread God's love. He lived his vocation, his God-given call to love and serve, to the fullest, and he encouraged his own disciples to do the same. They weren't allowed to be spectators very long before he sent them out to do as he did.

I think we all know what it is to be busy, but how often do we recognize our busy-ness as part of God's plan for us? Do we see it as our vocation, or is it just how life is? Are we living our vocation to the fullest, using all our gifts and talents the way God wants, or are we weekend spectators?

I don't know about you, but I often feel that, while I am doing my best to live my vocation during the week, balancing busyness with prayer, I am often relegated to being a spectator when it comes to my participation in church.

That's not the case at the Emmaus Inclusive Catholic Community I belong to, which continues to meet monthly even though we lost our Roman Catholic Woman Priest, Ruthie, to cancer on Easter Sunday last year (for a simple version of Ruthie's story, click here). Ruthie's vocation inspired us all to commit to the Emmaus community, to make it part of our own vocation, our God-given call to love and serve through a deeper participation in liturgy itself.

When Ruthie joined the heavenly Easter Celebrations a year ago, our Emmaus Community faced many questions -- the main one being, how will we continue without our Roman Catholic Woman Priest friend? Ruthie had tried to plan for her succession, but none of her community felt called to the priesthood as she was. So we had to come up with an alternate plan for our monthly Sunday gatherings. And what has happened is that we've all been called to live our own vocation to the priesthood of believers more deeply.

One of our group wrote a beautiful agape liturgy of thanksgiving. Agape is a Greek word referring to the love of God for us and our love for God, the highest kind of love that exists. So now we share a simple liturgy of the word (using Sunday's scriptures) and a liturgy of thanksgiving with unconsecrated bread and wine. I like to think that what we are doing is what the earliest Christians did in memory of Jesus; to tell the stories, break the bread, pour the wine, and celebrate our relationship with God and those God calls us to serve.

What I appreciate most is that our agape, while it incorporates basic traditional liturgical prayers, is much simpler than what happens in most Catholic churches on a Sunday. We use the Sunday readings, and one person offers a 'homily' that invites others to share as well. We pray the prayers of the faithful, asking God for the world's needs and our own. Before we break the bread and share the wine, we participate in a simple giving of thanks to God -- we each name those things and people in our lives for which we are grateful. We pray the Lord's prayer. No theological training or liturgical expertise is required for our prayer service -- anyone can 'preside,' and everyone else can respond. We take turns.

And it strikes me that perhaps this is what Jesus was trying to show us with his life -- that our God-given call to love and serve requires us all to use our gifts, and none of us should be held back from living our vocation because we aren't one specific gender or have a specific education. Each of us carries certain wisdom, gifts, and talents from our own lives, and we are meant to share them in community. Some of us like to sing, some like to preach, others bake delicious bread, and everyone has ideas about and experiences with the scriptures. We know our gathering is not a full mass, but it feels richer when we all actively share our own vocations through participating more fully in different aspects of the liturgy. No spectators allowed.

February has long been designated as Vocations Awareness month, and this year, I would like to challenge the Church to broaden its understanding of vocation, to do more to incorporate the priesthood of all believers into Sunday liturgies that could be far more participatory and much less a spectator sport. Present liturgy, while it holds a certain familiarity and comfort for many, allows for too much passive participation. Annie Dillard said we shouldn't wear hats to church, but crash helmets. Just think what might happen if the people of God were invited to step out of their pews, time-worn habits, and prayers to answer their God-given call to love and serve -- as Jesus did in the Gospels -- on Sunday mornings and beyond.

No spectators allowed, and maybe the world would change!

Surprising grief

My friend Ruthie died very early on Easter Sunday morning. I like to think that the Easter celebrations in heaven were irresistible, and she just had to join in. So it is a bitter-sweet Easter season this year, feeling her loss while at the same time knowing that her suffering is turned to joy...

The last two weeks have been full of ups and downs. The first week was all about preparing music for her funeral and wondering about the future of the Emmaus Inclusive Catholic Community now that we've lost our priest and friend. The funeral service was really lovely, with a most excellent eulogy given by Ruthie's best friend, and the Emmaus community mass with Ruthie's sister priests presiding the following day was a special time for those of us who celebrated Eucharist with Ruthie these last five years.

We will probably gather again later in May to determine how our small Christian community can move forward without her, and to continue to grieve our loss together. In the meantime, I am always surprised by the ways my own grief wells up at the most unexpected times.

This morning at mass, it happened again, probably because the gospel reading was the story of Jesus meeting the disciples on the road to Emmaus... only I found myself walking that road with both Ruthie and Jesus, with them both talking to us about the events of the past days, our love, and our loss. Suddenly the tears were pouring down my cheeks and my husband put his arm around me. I almost sobbed aloud when he handed me a tissue.

It's been a while since I've lost a dear friend, and I'd forgotten how grief can surprise a person. A memory of Ruthie that suddenly returns. A phrase that brings her to mind. A conversation with another friend that reminds me of something Ruthie once said. She was probably the most avid reader of these Simple Moodlings, and always commented, in person, about something she read and enjoyed. But now she's gone, and our community will continue to catch glimpses of her in each other and in things, causes, people that we know she loved.

As much as we miss Ruthie, she is now one with the Christ-stranger on the Emmaus road, the one who walked with the disciples... recognizable in more subtle ways, maybe when we least expect it. At the moment, when I am reminded of her, my eyes fill with tears because I miss her. But give it some time, and it will be easier to keep in mind that she has turned the corner on a road that I am travelling too, just a little way behind her, and these tears will be replaced with a wistful smile.

God is light, and we are reflectors!

My turn to give a reflection at Emmaus Inclusive Catholic Community today...

First Reading: Isaiah 9.1-4
Psalm 27
Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 1.10-13 and 17-18
Gospel Reading: Matthew 4.12-23

Today's readings contain such riches, and challenges, for us to consider. I have always loved the idea of God being light, and we hear it over and over in today’s scripture.

To begin with, we have Isaiah’s prophecy that all those who live in the lands of Zebulun and Naphtali will see a great light. Zebulun and Naphtali were two step-brothers of Joseph the dreamer, lesser known sons of Jacob. They settled in the lands eventually known as Galilee, where, as we hear in the Gospel reading, Jesus began his ministry after John the Baptist’s arrest. The descendants of Zebulun and Napthali were among the first to be sent to Assyria during the Babylonian captivity, which means that they lived the longest in the darkness of exile. Isaiah is encouraging them, saying that they will eventually be especially blessed... and he was right. Jesus to began his ministry in Galilee, among the descendents of Zebulun and Naphtali, so they heard God's word from God's lips first! When I think of Jesus, I imagine him to be the warmest, kindest, most loving person to ever walk the earth. I don’t work nearly as hard as the Galilean people did, but I get goosebumps when I imagine Jesus saying to me, “Come to me, all you who labour and are heavily burdened, and I will give you rest.”

In Psalm 127, we hear that “God is my light and my salvation,” echoing Isaiah’s words about God bringing light. At this end of salvation history, we can see that Jesus IS the goodness of our God in the land of the living – so of course we can take heart and hope in God!

Then we have St. Paul pleading for unity in the minds and hearts of the Christians in Corinth. Paul is basically telling them that everyone belongs to God, and that Jesus himself, through the wisdom of accepting his own suffering on the cross, wants the Corinthians -- and us -- to accept life as he did, to see wisdom and God’s light in each other, and to love one another as sisters and brothers even through disagreements and sufferings.

Finally, in the Gospel we see Jesus actually fulfilling Isaiah’s prophecy, being God’s light for the lands of Zebulun and Naphtali by teaching in the synagogues, proclaiming the good news of God’s reign, and curing people of EVERY disease and EVERY sickness. God is light, and the light has come in Jesus.

But sometimes it’s not easy to see God's light in our world today. We live in a society that has many diseases and sicknesses, and not just the physical kind, some of which are visible in the way we handle ourselves, one another, and the planet God has given to us. Many people seem to forget that life, all life, is sacred, especially when that life is causing them inconvenience. It’s so easy to get caught up in the me-first thinking of individualism, the my-stuff-first thinking of materialism, consumerism and capitalism, and the my-species-first thinking of putting human interests above the interests of the rest of creation. Somehow, though, I don’t think God intended for us to drive other created beings, or ourselves, to extinction!

I think that if Jesus was here in the flesh today, he would want to cure us of these ways of thinking because they are bringing about so much unwellness in our world. We are living on a planet that is ailing because we are using it up almost faster than it is able to regenerate itself. We have poisonous tailings ponds killing our brothers and sisters in Fort Chipewyan, supertyphoons killing our brothers and sisters in the Philippines, the dumping of waste killing our sister and brother species who live in the oceans, terrorism and fear killing our brothers and sisters of many species in Central African Republic, South Sudan and Syria, depression and addictions killing our sisters and brothers in downtown Edmonton, and our own hopelessness and apathy adding to it all.

But darkness can't drive away light -- and you can't "shine darkness" into the corner of a room. The only way we have darkness is if we remove light. Light immediately banishes darkness, and Jesus, the light who shines in the darkness, offers us hope and wants us to be hope with him! He gives us many ideas about possible cures for individualism, materialism, consumerism, capitalism, and extinction of organisms throughout the Gospels. 

Even just his beatitudes tell us so much about how to turn these things around. To paraphrase: Live like the poor in spirit, and understand our place in the web of creation. Live like those who are in mourning, and understand what is really important in life, rather than chasing after material things that leave us unsatisfied. Live meekly, and the earth will be able to provide for everyone’s needs. Hunger and thirst for righteousness in every situation, and bring about the common good for all of creation. Be merciful, and receive mercy and compassion. Be peacemakers, and fear not because all of creation is God’s beloved. And even when being laughed at or persecuted otherwise for doing all these good things, know that the kin-dom is already present in our actions.

I know that’s a strange paraphrase, but I am a practitioner of what is called Voluntary Simplicity, and that’s how I have come to hear Jesus’ Beatitude message over time. Practicing Voluntary Simplicity means that I am doing my best to live in God’s creation as simply as possible, with as few possessions as I can get away with, doing as little damage to the earth as I possibly can. I do this because I think it’s part of coming out of the darkness of individualism and consumerism and living in harmony with all that God created. 

If God is light, I am a reflector! So it means that I set an example. I avoid buying things I don’t really need. My family gets by with only one vehicle, which can be rather inconvenient, but we make it work. We make an effort to grow our own food as much as possible. We think about our brothers and sisters in the developing world and use our purchasing power to support fair employment practices for them. We work at composting and reducing waste, fixing things instead of sending them to the dump. We turn off lights and appliances when not in use, and turn down the heat to conserve energy for future generations. I could go on and on, but I already have!

I believe that Jesus, being the light of the world, calls us all to reflect his light for the world, and how we live and use the planet’s resources speaks volumes about the light we have been shown. St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of ecology, wrote a beautiful song singing the praises of all of God’s creation and how Brothers Sun, Wind, Air, Fire, and Sisters Moon, Water, Earth and Death show God to us. If we can live in the same kind of awareness that Francesco did, an awareness of God’s light in everything, we will see many opportunities to make choices to protect God’s creation, and to spread light rather than increase the darkness that is trying to engulf our world through human selfishness. We will find ourselves rejoicing before God “as with joy at the harvest, as people exult when dividing" -- the winnings of the lottery, or whatever is today's definition of "plunder.” Our yoke, the burdens of our brothers and sisters, and the rod of oppression weighing down God’s creation will be lifted.

Still, I sometimes get overwhelmed by the weight of the oppression of creation and our human family, but my good spiritual director often reminds me, “It’s not up to you to save the world, Maria. Jesus already did that.” Then I remember that my job is to start small, but to make a start, acting justly, loving tenderly, and walking humbly with all of God’s creation as Jesus did. I’m guessing we each can do one small, simple thing to lighten the burden on creation today, to shine a little light in a dark corner. And maybe we can do a different one tomorrow.

So I’d like to invite us all into a little discussion about finding our way out of the darkness and allowing God’s light to shine through us in our small, personal acts that leave individualism, over-consumption and materialism behind. What are some practical things that you already do to live more lightly in God’s creation? And what is one small thing that you’ve never done, or have been meaning to do, something that you could start doing tomorrow?