communitas et caritas

From today's first reading, 1 John 4:18:

My mind was already on the relationship between fear and love this morning, when the priest began to ask about it. He posed some questions, most of which I've forgotten.  One was, Do you think that you can be in love and still be fearful?  Do you think that fear and love are mutually exclusive?

He answered that he didn't think so, and I think he's right.  But on the other hand, both fear and love affect each other.  Fear is diminished when we love and when we know that we are loved.  How much easier is it to deal with challenging circumstances when we know that our loved ones are with us?

And also, it takes courage to love freely, to offer yourself to another without knowing what you will receive in return.  It's so easy to get to know another person only on a surface level, afraid that revealing too much of yourself might drive the other away, or that they might not reciprocate.  In fear, we hold ourselves back, trying not to open ourselves to being vulnerable, to being hurt when the relationship changes.  Relationships are changing all the time as things in our lives change--new jobs, moving to new places, getting married, commiting to religious life, having children...all these things change the way we relate to our friends, and sometimes the result is painful loss.

"To love is to suffer" says St. Madeleine Sophie Barat, for loving another means we are vulnerable to the pain of loss, and vulnerable to experiencing the pain that our loved one feels.  And yet, Sophie continues:  "To love is to suffer, but not to love is to die."  Our lives, our world, everything is given meaning through love.  Without love, without suffering, we do not really live.

I pray that all people in our world can find a way to live and act out of love, not out of fear.

I heard a wise woman speak last week about the Incarnation and the idea of vulnerability.  On Christmas, we celebrate the fact that God became a tiny baby.  God, out of love for all of us, became human.  Think of how vulnerable an infant is -- totally dependent on parents for food, shelter, safety, love...  and yet our God chose to become that incredibly vulnerable, just for us.

The speaker went on to talk of our divinization.  God became human that we might become godly.  And we become more like God by opening our hearts and being vulnerable.  Love makes us vulnerable, because when we love another, we suffer with and for them, feel what they feel, and risk the pain of loss ourselves.  Our love, our vulnerability, is necessary if we are to follow Christ.

I've been thinking a lot about that idea, and also about the connection to the cross.  Really, the vulnerability of the God-human is shown in its extreme in the events we celebrate during Holy Week.  But that's what the Incarnation is about--our salvation, which comes through the resurrection of Christ, happens only because he was vulnerable enough to suffer and die on the cross.

PEACE

LIGHT

JUSTICE

SAFETY

TRUTH

SALVATION

John asks the question: "Are you the one who is to come, or should we look to another?" and Jesus answers by curing illnesses, making the blind see, and healing all sorts of sufferings.  (Isaiah answers, too, with "I am the LORD, and there is no other!")

Let us seek healing from God, for all that ails ourselves and the world we live in--injustice, lack of peace, depression, poverty, illness, grief, any of those things that wound us.   Our needs will be met by the Creator God who sets the world back on track for us.

Do you ever have those days when you think God is trying to send you a message?  When ideas keep returning to you, from all different sources? 

My "message" this week is something that I mentioned in the last post--being open to receive the love that is offered to us.  I've been pondering this, and then it returned in the meditation I read yesterday, with a slight twist.  The meditation says this:

So the variation is that the love spoken of here is God's love, not human love, but the idea is the same--being open to receiving the love offered, having an open heart.

It seems so hard sometimes, and so important.  I do have stuff "lurking" in the shadows, just like everyone else.  I know God is with me in that stuff too (maybe even most especially in that stuff), but sometimes I feel unworthy of the incredible blessings that God gives. I know that's not true, but I don't always feel it.

I am reminded, too, of St. Paul, who recognized his failings, and "boasts" of his weakness, for God tells him:  "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor 12.9)

When I do allow myself to feel the love of God, and the love of those around me, I am so humbled by it, so grateful... and I know that by allowing myself to receive it, I am better able to give love as well.

May God grace our weaknesses with strength and power.

It's been a busy weekend, full of Advent celebrations.  My community met yesterday for a morning of reflection, prayer, and calendar coordinating, and then in the afternoon we put up and decorated our Christmas tree!  Baby Jesus made a brief debut in the creche (oops!) before being put back in the incubator (i.e. drawer) until Christmas.  The house is lovely and festive.

Today is Gaudete Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent.  I love this feast -- the sense of anticipation and joy at the coming of the Christ Child.  Many of my Sisters went to mass together this morning (we often go our own ways), and we had nearly two pews full!  I truly love that communal experience of liturgy and prayer together.

I was privileged to hear a talk this morning by Paul Coutinho, S.J., about Advent and darkness.  His spirituality is such an interesting blend of Catholic Christianity and Eastern traditions.  There are many things that resonated with me from his talk, but I think the most important is the assertion that we need to be more attentive to the love others show for us.  He says that we are quite good at loving those around us (though, with some exceptions, I'm sure).  But that it is often harder for us to accept the love offered to us.  For whatever reason -- maybe we feel unworthy of it, unloveable -- receiving the love of others is challenging.  He gave the example of a small child recognizing the sadness of her mother.  The mother's first thought is that the child shouldn't worry about her, but that she must always be caring for the child.  It may be hard, but rather than denying her own sadness, she should accept the comfort offered by the child.