tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20269529401178792152024-03-10T23:22:54.522-04:00Wandering in Wonderfinding my way in this world by being and discovering who I amColleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.comBlogger225125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-41259698137618761462024-01-29T23:43:00.001-05:002024-01-29T23:43:32.893-05:00Catholic Women Preach<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71QvcWaFDPOX7tzsWstex7DN7RhvCIn6Z5VI272iYZg-FZAyEpOLa-Q1_joS29XHo3gjJ_nWweRHUY7YJyI0_xvF3-xw_0t8D8o-VWtsEtYy_gYN9QdP1Nmi8_oaw6nJq0fMsZSUigg1YKPrAEPjALsgV8jPtL3APWXLlYjTpfBKn3QOzj4LllzgS-G37/s1200/01282024.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="1200" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71QvcWaFDPOX7tzsWstex7DN7RhvCIn6Z5VI272iYZg-FZAyEpOLa-Q1_joS29XHo3gjJ_nWweRHUY7YJyI0_xvF3-xw_0t8D8o-VWtsEtYy_gYN9QdP1Nmi8_oaw6nJq0fMsZSUigg1YKPrAEPjALsgV8jPtL3APWXLlYjTpfBKn3QOzj4LllzgS-G37/s320/01282024.png" width="320" /></a></div><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>This Sunday, I was honored to preach for Catholic Women Preach, a wonderful project that lifts up the voices of women in the Catholic Church and encourages an expansive sharing of the Word. Join me in reflecting on our true calling and how God calls each of us to authenticity. Watch or read more at </i><span style="text-align: left;"><i>https://www.catholicwomenpreach.org/preaching/01282024</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><i>---</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Preaching on the readings for the Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/18rV3RRBxII" width="320" youtube-src-id="18rV3RRBxII"></iframe></div><p><br /></p><br /> <p></p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-54393584903810168422023-12-18T09:59:00.000-05:002023-12-18T09:59:11.667-05:00Finding God in our Christmas Cards<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1YdNbK5l8LVlclGb0I10ds869kjJeSZMfZVjsglseaxoriggj-JLmsAojyFkduRLZSvdXDSjEj8PJQHdYwEUf5WIXEdLujvmSllbIHaPz6Hj5g2k1F_SWZyDzUOT0bI-fN1-ainknCnww6x_bA7zos0wzYdsLEccjym9RksmCt98m1p6Ci7eSrHq9u8T/s1200/Advent-Banner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="1200" height="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF1YdNbK5l8LVlclGb0I10ds869kjJeSZMfZVjsglseaxoriggj-JLmsAojyFkduRLZSvdXDSjEj8PJQHdYwEUf5WIXEdLujvmSllbIHaPz6Hj5g2k1F_SWZyDzUOT0bI-fN1-ainknCnww6x_bA7zos0wzYdsLEccjym9RksmCt98m1p6Ci7eSrHq9u8T/w445-h111/Advent-Banner.png" width="445" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>This Advent I was blessed to join a host of wonderful writers commissioned by the Jesuit Conference of Canada and the United States in reflecting on finding God in the Christmas prep. It was a delightful assignment that gave me the chance to reflect on the Christmas cards I send this time of year. Join me in reflecting more deeply and while you're at it be sure to join us for the final days of reflection at <a href="http://jesuits.org/advent">jesuits.org/advent</a></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>----</i></p><p>Each year, sometime in November, I begin to ask myself<i>: What message will Christmas bring this year?</i></p><p>As I watch stores fill with decorations and radio stations slowly turn to Christmas music, I wonder to myself:<i> What message do I need? What message does our world need? And what could possibly capture the magnitude of this season and the fullness of the Incarnation?</i></p><p>Then, putting all profundity aside, I ask myself:<i> What will my Christmas card be this year?</i></p><p>There is something that brings me great joy in answering that final question. Browsing online catalogs and walking down the aisles of my local card shop, I marvel at the variety of cards available. From the sublime to the ridiculous, Christmas cards have you covered. A New Yorker cartoon with a child Jesus complaining about how close his birthday is to Hannukah? A Thomas Kinkade cottage tucked away in a winter wonderland? An abstract rendering of the Nativity? You name it, and I bet there’s a card for that.</p><p>Yet, as I browse, the question of message returns. What exactly is God calling me to be ready for this Christmas? It’s in answering that question that I ultimately come to the card I want to send.</p><p>Afterall, that message is what I will pray with time and time again as I write cards to my friends and family. That is the message that will be echoed in my own words written inside and which will be put on display in people’s houses, as the cards adorn mantles and refrigerators.</p><p>As I take my time writing my cards, my own mailbox will begin to fill with cards from near and far. Opening each one is a gift unto itself. These are physical manifestations of relationships maintained over the years, signs of connection and thoughtfulness.</p><p>Gleefully opening each card, I wonder to myself: What is the message this person wanted to send?</p><p>As the days of Advent progress toward Christmas, a collage of Christmas cheer begins to gather in my prayer space. With gratitude, I look upon them each morning, and as I recollect each night, I marvel at the ways God comes into our lives through the everyday relationships we maintain. God became human and dwelt among us.</p><p>In this busy season, the act of sending Christmas cards helps to ground me in that reality. It slows me down enough to see the goodness of God coming to life all around me. As I write my own cards, I revel in the simple signs of love these cards capture: families I’ve watched grow over the years, Christmas letters that give the roundup of what has been, and beautiful images emblazoned with messages of peace, hope, joy and love.</p><p>I take each card as a prayer from those who sent it, an act of intention — as if to say, I picked this stamp for you, this card for you, this picture for you… (And guess what else? I went to the post office, for you!). The implication of each is that if I would do that for you, I’d surely do much more. My hope, of course, is that those who get a card from me feel the same...</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>Read the rest of the reflection at: <a href="https://www.jesuits.org/stories/2nd-thursday-of-advent-christmas-cards/">https://www.jesuits.org/stories/2nd-thursday-of-advent-christmas-cards/</a></i></p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-62751669626179764252023-09-20T05:53:00.003-04:002023-09-20T05:53:00.140-04:00Bending Toward Mercy<p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">The following reflection on <a href="https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/092023.cfm">the readings of the day</a> for September 20th is featured in the September 2023 issue of <a href="https://giveusthisday.org/" target="_blank">Give Us This Day</a> from Liturgical Press</span></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">---</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">My eight-year-old nephew has taken to creating imaginative
games. There are whimsical dance battles, intricate webs of hide-and-seek, and
fanciful games in which everyone must do what they’re told. Because he’s often
making up the rules of these games as we go, there is little room, in my
nephew’s mind, for improvisation on the part of participants. Try doing
something different and (more than likely) the game is over.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The same, it would seem, is true of those Jesus encounters
in today’s Gospel. In their eyes, Jesus didn’t play by the rules. Like John the
Baptist, Jesus challenged assumptions and pushed boundaries. What they had
imagined the Messiah to be, Jesus wasn’t. He wept in sorrow and rejoiced with
outcasts. He was fully human and utterly divine, a mystery beyond their—and
our—wildest dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This is the mystery of devotion Paul writes about in his
letter to Timothy. This mystery is not some game we master but <i>someone </i>we come
to know: Jesus the Christ. “Manifested in the flesh, vindicated in the spirit,”
Jesus invites us into mystery, to grow in relationship with the unknowable and
to bend our rules toward mercy. Our devotion demands that we reimagine what we
think possible, embracing the unexpected and adopting the wisdom of Christ.
This wisdom calls us into union with all—the rule makers and the rule breakers,
those who suffer under our assumptions and those in whom we find the kinship of
Christ—so that together we might become <i>the Church of the living God</i> that
Christ calls us to be.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">[CREDIT] Sr. Colleen
Gibson, SSJ, from the September 2023 issue of Give Us This Day, </i><i>www.giveusthisday.org
(Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2023). Used with permission.</i></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-57211482052148756862023-07-14T18:58:00.002-04:002023-10-13T22:35:49.388-04:00Take a Break this Summer... for your good and the good of the world!<p style="text-align: center;"> <i>In my latest column for <a href="https://www.globalsistersreport.org/columns/take-break-summer-your-good-and-good-community" target="_blank">Global Sisters Report</a>, I look at the need for rest as a critical aspect of engaging in life and our call to faithfulness. I hope that you get a chance to relax this summer amid work and apart from it. May the God of the Sabbath make space for the Spirit to expand in our resting and may we take the time we need so that that Spirit has room to breathe in us and the world!</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>--</i></p><p class="MsoNormal">Summer break can mean many things: days at the beach, time
to curl up with a good book, or a pause amid the daily grind to reconnect with
family and friends. With activities including barbecues, service projects,
annual retreats and long weekends away, the summer offers a time to shift with
the seasons, find a new rhythm, or (at least) put our current pace in
perspective. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For some, summer is a season of vacation, while for others,
it is a busy time spent facilitating those spaces for others. Regardless of
where you find yourself this summer, I think something about the "in
between" moment of the season invites our recollection. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Two email signoffs recently caught my attention. The first
came as a response to my hope that the sister I was corresponding with was
enjoying the change of pace that comes with summer. With kindness and honesty,
she wrote of a few projects she needed to work on, after which she hoped
"to enjoy this pace of which you speak!"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The second came from an acquaintance who knew I'd recently
completed a degree program and hoped I would have a moment to breathe before
moving on to my next ministry. "Hopefully, these days are feeling a little
freer," she wrote before posing a few questions about a project we're
preparing for later in the summer.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">After reading each email, I took a deep breath, imagining
the freedom we all hoped for in our responses. In between time, after all, is
what we make of it, and such freedom is as hard (or as easy) to come by as we
make it.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Looking at my summer calendar, I can see this truth playing
out in real time. The difficulty of the in between is how we choose to embrace
it. That embrace can be as easy as settling into a seaside lounge or as tight
as a schedule packed back-to-back with engagements and appointments. In our
busy lives, we sometimes see free time not as a time to rest but simply as
available or otherwise unoccupied time. Rather than saving time for recharging,
we often pack it with other to-dos and miss the regenerative power of being
free and changing our pace.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Of course, we all face demands to do more. The reasons are
many and varied. For some, time off isn't an option. With mouths to feed and
bills to pay, time off is an unaffordable luxury. For others, the idea of
taking a prolonged rest might seem to fly in the face of the pressing demands
of our world. With all the suffering and injustice in the world, rest appears
to be a luxury or disengagement from the things of the world that demand our
attention and action. From this point of view, the question arises: How can we
take time to <i>just be</i> when there is so much yet to <i>be
done</i>? <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This question, of course, is a false dichotomy. Rest is
neither solely for the rich or privileged, nor is it unavailable to the poor
and marginalized. Rest is a universal need and right. We each are called to
refill and make space in our own way. Rest is found in our making time and
space and our intention in taking it. Actively choosing such rest is an act of
resistance in a culture that demands productivity and directly correlates worth
with activity and output. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In her 2022 presidential address to the Catholic Theological
Society of America, "<a href="https://ejournals.bc.edu/index.php/ctsa/article/download/15583/11437/" target="_blank">Remembering the Rest of Life: Toward a Rest-Inflected Theology
of Work and Action,</a>" Christine Firer Hinze makes a poignant plea for
rest as part of our Christian call to action. "In the face of the
potential endlessness of all the good work to be done," Firer Hinze asks,
"how do we better understand, incorporate and advocate for good rest, not
as a grudging accommodation to our finitude, but as an essential human,
societal, and spiritual good?"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">By framing rest as an essential element of faithful action,
Firer Hinze calls all people of goodwill to account for the nature and
underlying motivation of our rest, examining our resistance to rest and the
grounding power inherent in genuine rest. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Finding rest means facing the pressure to produce and the
perception that productivity defines our worth. Solutions to such culturally
pre-programmed restlessness are not simple, or one-size-fits-all. Part of
learning to rest comes from reevaluating the unhealthy standards we've set for
ourselves.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Early in my religious life, I remember meeting with a wisdom
figure in my congregation about what advice she would offer a younger member.
"Say yes to whatever you are asked to do," she replied
wholeheartedly. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I sincerely believe that she was telling me to be open to
opportunities and share my gifts with a sense of abundance. Yet her response
also delivered a message about working without abandon (or rest). Years later,
I realized you can't say yes to everything. You must choose wisely, discerning
when 'yes' is a prudent response and when rest might be a better choice for all
involved.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In time, I've come to cherish those people in my life who
have modeled such regenerative and integrated habits of rest, prayer and
service. Their example challenges me to reevaluate my work patterns and find
rest amid and apart from my everyday life. As Firer Hinze highlights, such rest
is integral to embodying a just love of ourselves, our God, our neighbors and
all creation. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Drawing on the work of Tricia Hersey, the founder of <a href="https://thenapministry.com/" target="_blank">The Nap Ministry</a>, we
would be right to embrace a space of rest this summer — to grow in community
and faith. This is because rest is not a solitary endeavor but a communal
effort and investment. Restoring ourselves gives back to the communities we
belong to. Rest enables us to rely on others; it makes us vulnerable and lets
us lean into the support and care of others.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Rest also humbles us. Our need for rest shows us that we are
human. To be faithful to the practice of rest both amid our service and apart
from it is an act of faithful charity. We rest so that we can better love, and
by resting, we recognize that rest — the very act of sabbath-making — is part
of our call as people of faith.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Learning to rest and applying those lessons is
countercultural. As I stress about the projects that lie ahead and a new
ministry on the horizon, I feel the temptation to fill my time, to be
productive in the service of something other than the call to be present to the
feelings of the in between. Resting this summer is a call to develop patterns
and practices of rest in every season of our lives. That is a call that I, at
least, could use practice in answering. (Maybe you could, too.)<o:p></o:p></p>
As we look toward the months ahead and the mountains of things that could or should be done, why not spend some time away with friends, family or God (or all three!)? For in that restful space, we may be able to listen more deeply to God's call to service, more able and willing to respond prudently, and find that rest is exactly what is needed to live the fullness of life God intends for us. Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-11291663060645883002023-05-25T18:58:00.004-04:002023-05-25T18:58:45.958-04:00Give Us This Day: "Five Simple Words"<p><span style="font-family: georgia;">My reflection on today's readings from Give Us This Day:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgE2bVsJXGiEO6vBk-V_A6JHDT-GOVXBYCd9eP0GZzAdMYg2bspCFRoPiBV7smmIJHjUdN4n05c57QzQE9Xdx1c9ayNMJ_DaSWCqAgaU-uWj9wx8Myi9D_IBvSzgkry64Do_Ee9tAzuNnDNapG-Dnmg1XrIXwIhIKE9_NU4tQ4DksjcEdtSUPwLlS_o7A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgE2bVsJXGiEO6vBk-V_A6JHDT-GOVXBYCd9eP0GZzAdMYg2bspCFRoPiBV7smmIJHjUdN4n05c57QzQE9Xdx1c9ayNMJ_DaSWCqAgaU-uWj9wx8Myi9D_IBvSzgkry64Do_Ee9tAzuNnDNapG-Dnmg1XrIXwIhIKE9_NU4tQ4DksjcEdtSUPwLlS_o7A" width="188" /></span></a></div><p></p><p 0px="" 20px="" b3b3b="" baseline="" border-box="" border:="" box-sizing:="" color:="" font-feature-settings:="" font-kerning:="" font-optical-sizing:="" font-stretch:="" font-variant-alternates:="" font-variant-east-asian:="" font-variant-numeric:="" font-variation-settings:="" inherit="" line-height:="" margin:="" outline:="" padding:="" vertical-align:=""><span style="font-family: georgia;">Be it a time of distress, a moment of loss, or a season of uncertainty, sometimes the greatest offer we can receive is the promise of prayer. I will pray for you. With those five simple words, what I once held alone (or that which I felt held me captive) is transformed from a solitary burden to a communal endeavor. Whatever was mine is now ours. The blessed assurance being that together we, each in our own way, will hold the intention at the heart of our conversation with God. </span></p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #3b3b3b; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">We trust this promise because we hear it in Jesus’ own prayer. Facing the imminence of his death, Jesus’ words fold in on themselves—a rapid-fire succession of “you in me” and “I in them” and “they in us” that can boggle our minds if we don’t pause to hold the heart of his prayer. Transcending time, Jesus is emphatically praying for us: that all may be one, in God and for God, forever and always. </span></p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #3b3b3b; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Listening to Jesus pray, our hearts are stirred. In this crucial moment, Jesus reminds us who we are and who—in union with others—we are called to be. What’s more, he reminds us whose we are. We are God’s—a beloved people, a gift given and received. </span></p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #3b3b3b; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">In the intimate prayer of Christ, we know this to be true. Despite the darkness of night, we, like Paul, hear God say, “Take courage.” We can do this because Jesus has prayed and continues to pray for us and with us. Knowing we are lovingly held in the heart of God, we are called to love one another, so that the resurrected Christ might be known in our union and our lives might be the answer to Jesus’ prayer. </span></p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #3b3b3b; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #3b3b3b;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">(Visit the GUTD blog for more: https://blog.giveusthisday.org/2023/05/25/five-simple-words/ )</span></span></p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-13244907797948271882023-05-05T18:42:00.001-04:002023-10-13T22:36:32.931-04:00Votes and Voices: The tent is expanding<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #313131; font-family: georgia;"><i>In my latest column for the <a href="https://www.globalsistersreport.org/columns/votes-and-voices-tent-expanding" target="_blank">Global Sisters Report</a>, I reflect on the recent news about the expansion of voting in the Synod of Bishops/Synod on Synodality to non-bishop members, including women and other lay people. Check it out!</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #313131; font-family: georgia;"><i>--</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #313131; font-family: georgia;">The
tent is expanding. I repeat, the tent is expanding. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #313131; line-height: 107%; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Finally.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #313131; line-height: 107%; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Last
week (April 26) the Vatican office in charge of the synod on synodality made a
historic <a href="https://www.ncronline.org/vatican/vatican-news/pope-francis-expands-participation-synod-lay-members-granting-right-vote" target="_blank">announcement</a>: Women will be able to vote at October's
assembly, the first time women and lay people will be allowed to vote at a
meeting of the Synod of Bishops.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #313131; line-height: 107%; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As the
International Union of Superiors General, or UISG, lauded in <a href="https://www.uisg.org/en/news/Una-tenda-che-si-sta-allargando" target="_blank">its press release</a> this week, the move to allow women
to vote "enriches ecclesial dynamism, manifesting openness and readiness
to welcome God's newness in gradually renewing the Church by revealing its full
richness," all while preserving the synod's episcopal nature.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #313131; line-height: 107%; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">In some
ways this is a logical next step in the growing movement of synodality in the
church. It should have been expected, and still to have the votes and voices of
women acknowledged, affirmed, and uplifted feels like a big (if not also a long
anticipated) step on the journey towards church governance and direction
setting that is more inclusive of the entire people of God. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #313131; line-height: 107%; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Anticipating
that the work of the October assembly will include issues surrounding women's
roles in the church and LGBTQ relationships, among a cavalcade of other issues,
it's encouraging to know that the diversity of voices at the table will be
increased. And yet, there is still more expansion that awaits us if we're
willing to be stretched by the Spirit.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #313131; line-height: 107%; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">"We
are all called to become an active part of a relational, inclusive and
dialoguing Church" Sr. Nadia Coppa of the Adorers of the Blood of Christ,
president of the UISG, <a href="https://cruxnow.com/vatican/2023/05/women-religious-voice-gratitude-for-synod-voting-rights" target="_blank">commented</a> this week. This includes those few hundred
who will have a vote at the synod and the millions more whose voices have
lifted their voices thus far in the current synodal process. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #313131; line-height: 107%; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">In an
informative piece of news analysis out this week, Sebastian Gomes of
America <a href="https://www.americamagazine.org/faith/2023/05/03/pope-francis-synod-women-vote-245214" target="_blank">traces</a> the growing desire and demand over the last 10
years for women to be able to vote at the Synod of Bishops. Swelling support
speaks to the collaborative model Francis has tried to put forward in the
synodality that has characterized his pontificate, and also the growing
realization that for our church to truly be catholic, we need to listen to the
voices of the people of God. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #313131; line-height: 107%; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This
listening will now include the right to vote. Come October, about 1 in 5 of the
synod's 370 participants will be non-bishops, with at least 1 in every 10 being
a woman. Ten percent may not feel like a lot and yet the double-digit figure is
encouraging. As research from <a href="https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2011/07/110725190044.htm" target="_blank">Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute</a> suggests, "when
just 10 percent of the population holds an unshakable belief, their belief will
always be adopted by the majority of the society."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #313131; line-height: 107%; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Of
course, the synod participants are all individuals with their own opinions and
we trust that the Spirit is at work in the synod on synodality. Yet, having
women at the table can only enrich the conversation and the ability for all
participants to vote on the synod's concluding document promises a more
representative mode of participation. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #313131; line-height: 107%; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The
matters of concern for women, after all, are matters of concern for the world.
As Sr. Mary Luke Tobin, one of the 15 women auditors (see: non-voting)
originally invited to the Second Vatican Council, famously retorted when told
that she could only attend council sessions of "particular concern"
for women: "Good, that means I can attend them all." I can only
imagine the impact women voting at the Second Vatican Council would have had.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #313131; line-height: 107%; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Yet, I
wonder too who else's voices and votes need to be at the tables of power as we
move forward on the synodal way. It's important to have women represented and
to have people from all of the continental assemblies in attendance. Still, I
wonder about LGBTQIA+ individuals … will they be represented? What about gender
nonbinary persons? What about those who remain unseen in our church, those who
are disregarded, and those who we don't envision immediately when we use the
term "the laity"? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #313131; font-family: georgia;">So
often when we use the term "lay people," we think of people like us …
but what if we are being invited to expand the tent of our perception to
include those beyond our own circles or preconceptions? </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #313131; line-height: 107%; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">A
contingent of only a little over 70 non-bishop (and hopefully predominantly
lay) representatives at the October assembly makes an expansive sense of
representation difficult at the highest levels of the synod. We certainly can
(and should) rejoice in those whose voices and votes will be counted and
included. The question, considering the size of that assembly though, is how we
are going to enlarge the space of our tents at other levels too? To welcome a
diversity of voices on the ground level of the church, in parish, school, and
social settings.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #313131; line-height: 107%; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Where
are there spaces of welcome to be created? Who are new neighbors for us to
meet? How are we being called to push out the walls of our secure church
structures to let the Spirit blow through? Like God the Creator breathing life
into the dust, new life might thus spring forth. We might find ourselves
rejoicing in opportunities we never thought possible, avenues we didn't deem
viable, and situations made more hospitable.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<span style="color: #313131; font-family: georgia;">With each new step on the synodal way, surprises are surfacing as our footsteps kick up the dust of new life. This dust shows us that walking the Way stirs things up, a process of mess making that ultimately holds hope. In this Easter season, we're called to rejoice in the One who walks the Way with us, the resurrected Christ who calls us to new life. As we enlarge our tents, let us rejoice in the promise of expansion and continue to lift up our voices so that all the world may hear the good news.</span>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-179059003910008522023-04-06T12:02:00.002-04:002023-04-06T12:05:18.705-04:00Dirty Dishes & the Cross<p style="text-align: center;"> <i>In these holy days of the Triduum there is much to ponder- the mystery of the Passion, Death and Resurrection of Christ, the call to hope, and the encounter with suffering. in the midst of it all, I've offered the following reflection for the <a href="https://cssjfed.org/about-us/charism-in-motion/2023-lenten-reflections/" target="_blank">U.S. Federation of the Sisters of Saint Joseph </a>for their series of Lenten Reflections. Today may be Holy Thursday, but I pray this <a href="https://cssjfed.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/Good-Friday-Reflection.pdf" target="_blank">Good Friday message</a> reaching you wherever you are.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOT38M3xr1xs2N-aFLPj_G8BrSt7Nxqs6iGA2hRKafrRg9_mQ66H4ShSjtOZO13bYajqOEEfLF0Uo5Np8Hu-8Rbz-sF2gU9WZT2jr6B4wZJXkrhU4nZcD5OrEfM6l5tUDp5C37cchP0MigL7-SuVT2h3Xs92E7HLZfv2JVPdkDIPF5xH3-OE_FUSfEzg/s682/Screenshot%202023-04-06%20114919.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="682" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOT38M3xr1xs2N-aFLPj_G8BrSt7Nxqs6iGA2hRKafrRg9_mQ66H4ShSjtOZO13bYajqOEEfLF0Uo5Np8Hu-8Rbz-sF2gU9WZT2jr6B4wZJXkrhU4nZcD5OrEfM6l5tUDp5C37cchP0MigL7-SuVT2h3Xs92E7HLZfv2JVPdkDIPF5xH3-OE_FUSfEzg/s320/Screenshot%202023-04-06%20114919.png" width="320" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">I have always loved Holy Thursday. That might seem like an
odd way to start out a reflection on Good Friday, but as I sit with the many
questions and the somberness of this day, I can’t help but recall that initial
love found in foot washing, students turned friends, and memories of a dinner
party we recall with each Eucharist.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Today, on Good Friday, I imagine the dirty dishes left
behind. Signs of what was hoped for, quietly held in the stillness of a story
gone awry. The cross is not what the disciples had anticipated. They surely had
imagined triumph like we saw on Palm Sunday, a lauded Messiah who would save an
oppressed people, who would overturn structures of domination and suffering
just as surely as he had flipped the tables in the Temple. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Suffering is not on the top of any of our lists of what it
means to be a follower of Christ. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And yet, today we stand at the foot of the cross and wonder:<i>
how did all this happen? What does it mean for us? Why did it have to happen
and why would God let it? Simply and emphatically, why?<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The answers to these questions resound in silence. They come
with tears and grief, mourning and weeping, pain and anguish. These are natural
responses to injustice and evil in our world. Any easy answers offered for such
a catastrophe should certainly be deemed suspect. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">God didn’t send Jesus to die on the cross. Jesus died
because he claimed who he was and preached the Gospel- proclaiming good
news to the poor, freedom for prisoners, and healing for the outcast. This
Good News was a call to right relationship with God and with every neighbor
without distinction. It threatened the status quo, and for this, Jesus was
killed. Ultimately, what Jesus’ death on the cross reveals is the fullness of
God’s love for humanity. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This love draws us into union with God. It is what is so
beautifully expressed on Holy Thursday and so heartbreakingly snuffed out on
Good Friday.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">On this day, when we venerate the cross it’s important to
remember that Jesus gave his life not only for salvation from sin but also, in
the words of theologian Jon Sobrino, for freedom “from any sort of oppression,
inner and outer, spiritual and physical, personal and social.” That freedom
calls us to act for justice, wherever life is threatened or senselessly lost.
We are called to be agents of unity, bearing hope amid our mourning, faithful
friends actively upholding the promise of new life Jesus offers us.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><u>For Reflection:<o:p></o:p></u></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> -</span>Take time today to reflect on the places of
despair and injustice in our world. Who suffers senselessly? How is life being
threatened? What would it mean to venerate unifying love in these situations?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->-<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> -</span>They say on Good Friday the world stood still.
If you can, try walking outside today. Imagine Jesus is walking with you. What
would you want to say to Jesus? What might Jesus be trying to say to you? <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">- </span>What does it mean for you to bear hope in the
shadow of the cross?</span><i> </i></p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-36020418869416869202023-03-17T11:30:00.001-04:002023-04-06T11:40:44.763-04:00Beyond a '40-Day Challenge': 14th-century wisdom for 21st-century prayer<p style="text-align: center;"><i>First off, my apologies for some delayed posts here on the blog... lots of things happening in life have drawn my attention away but alas, here I am! This latest post comes from a March column for Global Sisters Report. Even as Lent comes to a close, there is wisdom from those who came before us that can guide us through this season and the many seasons of our lives. Prayers for all as we make the journey!- C</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>--</i></p><p>At the outset of Lent, I chuckled when a friend sent me a
clip about Ash Wednesday from the morning television program "Today,"
featuring the actor Mark Wahlberg. With ashes on his forehead, Wahlberg shared
with the show's host about Lent. Scrawled across the bottom of the screen, the
captioned title for the segment read "Mark Wahlberg's 40-Day
Challenge."</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Absurd as the notion of Lent as a 40-day challenge might
seem — as if it were a fad diet or an exercise routine — the way many people
approach the season isn't too far from the concept of challenge. Prayer,
fasting, and almsgiving can easily devolve into challenges to be mastered and
tasks at which to excel.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Of course, that's not the purpose or the aim of Lent. We
pray, fast and give freely so that we might more freely embrace and deepen our
relationship with God. It is a challenge to simplify that is anything but
simple. There is no mastering these practices (i.e., you can't "win"
Lent), but only the invitation to wholeheartedly pursue them in these 40 days
with the hope that the lasting effect and ongoing practice of them might
transform our lives in the long run.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">To that end, it is prayer that grounds the entire journey of
Lent and the Christian life. Whether you are an apostle, a 14th-century mystic,
or a 21st-century seeker, prayer roots our relationship with God; it is the
focus of our fasting and the impetus of our giving. Without prayer none of this
makes sense and yet, in the busy lives we lead, prayer is often the first thing
to be cut short.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Perhaps this is because prayer at times can feel intangible.
On a long journey, it feels like we need to be more active, like there must be
something we can do. The reality, though, is that the best thing we can do is
simply show up.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Labour hard in this nothing and this nowhere,"
the 14th-century author of <i><a href="https://www.americamagazine.org/content/all-things/reading-spiritual-classic-cloud-unknowing" target="_blank">The Cloud of Unknowing</a></i> writes to a spiritual
novice seeking to learn how to pray. That is the hard work of contemplation, of
seeking union and finding that beyond anything else, you simply (or not so
simply) need to show up to be united with God in prayer.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One night, early on in my candidacy as a Sister of St.
Joseph, I found myself sitting in the small chapel in the local convent into
which I had just moved. This was a regular occurrence. Making the transition
into religious life was no small feat. As I navigated the newness of that
moment, I held on to advice I had received from a spiritual director years
earlier: show up every day.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That director didn't have this transition in mind when she
offered the advice. In fact, her words were more about making a habit of
prayer. "No matter what, show up to pray," I remember her telling me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She wasn’t quoting <i>The Cloud of Unknowing</i> or
Meister Eckhart but the core sentiment of her advice draws off the wisdom of
these spiritual classics. To be present to God, she advised me, requires the
removal of obstacles.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now certainly, obstacles in prayer aren't easily removed. We
can't simply will ourselves to pray or command God to appear. Our minds still
wander and preoccupations can still intrude. What we can do is create a
landscape that is conducive to prayer, a time and place ordered by regularity.
Such a place is not devoid of character or free from distraction, but it is
simplified by radical reliability. Create patterns. Show up in the same space
at the same time everyday and you'll be amazed by what can happen.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Confronting the distractions that often come in prayer, the
late 14th-century author of <i>The Cloud of Unknowing</i> advises the
one who wishes to show up in prayer to "do your best to pretend not to
know that they [the distractions] are pressing so hard upon you." Such
pretending can be hard though, and so the author has the novice imagine the
distraction butting in "between you and your God." Like an unwelcome
interlocutor at a party, when all you really want to do is be with and talk to
a dear friend, distractions in prayer may be swayed if you "try to look
over their shoulders, as it were, searching for something else."
Dispatching distraction with a spiritual cold shoulder, we can focus on the One
we've shown up to see, the One for whom we long— God.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">If looking past distraction doesn't work, the <i>Cloud</i> author
offers another technique: admit defeat.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"Cower down before [your distractions] like a wretched
coward overcome in battle." This dramatic response is the spiritual
equivalent of throwing up your hands in surrender. It is an admission that
prayer is not something we do on our own. In fact, it's not our doing at all.
We show up and God does the rest.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As Meister Eckhart <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=08h2RcnjLA4C&pg=PA153&lpg=PA153&dq=%E2%80%9CSome+simple+people+think+that+they+will+see+God+as+if+he+were+standing+there+and+they+here.+It+is+not+so.+God+and+I,+we+are+one.+I+accept+God+into+me+in+knowing;+I+go+into+God+in+loving.%E2%80%9D&source=bl&ots=j4bMFSJy1o&sig=ACfU3U2hIjndumD8twWsdrny4-EZ3FzDeQ&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjUhYXozeD9AhWOfTABHe7UDNwQ6AF6BAgHEAM#v=onepage&q=%E2%80%9CSome%20simple%20people%20think%20that%20they%20will%20see%20God%20as%20if%20he%20were%20standing%20there%20and%20they%20here.%20It%20is%20not%20so.%20God%20and%20I%2C%20we%20are%20one.%20I%20accept%20God%20into%20me%20in%20knowing%3B%20I%20go%20into%20God%20in%20loving.%E2%80%9D&f=false" target="_blank">preached</a> in the time preceding <i>The Cloud of
Unknowing</i>, "Some simple people think that they will see God as if he
were standing there and they here. It is not so. God and I, we are one. I
accept God into me in knowing; I go into God in loving." That is to say:
we are called into union with God by our very being.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Thus, "knowing God" is not a call to comprehensive
knowledge but rather to open yourself completely to a God you cannot
comprehend, to know that you do not and cannot know God totally and to be free
in that.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The same can be said of loving. One goes "into God in
loving" as one returns to the source of Love, the Word, deep within them.
This return is the call of all created beings. We come from a God who is love
and are called to return to God by loving.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The "work" we set out to undertake in prayer is
union with God. In a liturgical season like Lent, we strive to deepen our
relationship with God through intentional prayer and action that draw us closer
to the One who has made us in and for love.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sometimes that love is conveyed in the smallest of words:
Thanks. Love. Peace. Trust. You.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Focusing our prayer with these short, deceptively simple
words grounds us in the moment and allows us to surrender to God, who longs to
be with us in this moment.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Short prayers pierce heaven,” the author of <i>The
Cloud of Unknowing</i> instructs the novice pray-er. Centuries later we
might listen too to the wisdom of these insights. Keep it simple. For all the
uncertainty we face, simple presence offers us the opportunity to break through
to a deeper sense of knowing and being with God. That presence is far greater
than any 40-day challenge, it is the work of a lifetime.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Choosing to pray in this way is a practice of simplicity and
humility. God embraces us as we are, challenging us to go deeper, to give
freely and to love abundantly. Centuries of practice show us that embracing
that challenge — showing up and bearing all to God in loving union— is
certainly worth undertaking … not only for our own being but for the life of
the world.<o:p></o:p></p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-2205534675698154092023-01-31T17:14:00.001-05:002023-10-13T22:38:03.156-04:00Black Joy & "The Embrace"<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>The following is my latest column from<a href="https://www.globalsistersreport.org/news/black-joy-and-embrace" target="_blank"> Global Sisters Repor</a>t about the experience of witnessing the unveiling of the new monument in Boston Common, "The Embrace" and what its message and the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Coretta Scott King has to offer us in understanding Black joy and the call to community and justice. </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://bdc2020.o0bc.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/s3___bgmp-arc_arc-feeds_generic-photos_to-arc_tlumackiembracededication690-63c1ceb8628a7-scaled.jpg?width=900" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="543" data-original-width="800" height="217" src="https://bdc2020.o0bc.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/s3___bgmp-arc_arc-feeds_generic-photos_to-arc_tlumackiembracededication690-63c1ceb8628a7-scaled.jpg?width=900" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /> </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">On
Friday, Jan. 13, a new </span><a href="https://www.archpaper.com/2023/01/sculpture-plaza-boston-common-honors-dr-martin-luther-king-jrs-life-legacy/" style="font-family: georgia;" target="_blank">sculpture</a><span style="font-family: georgia;"> honoring the late Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
and his wife, Coretta Scott King, was unveiled in the Boston Common. Standing
over 20 feet tall and 40 feet wide, the bronze sculpture depicting a joyful
embrace following the announcement that Dr. King was being awarded the Nobel
Peace Prize has been met with praise for its innovative concept and much
maligned for everything from its disembodiment of the figures to confusing
perceptions of what one is seeing when they look at the statue from various
angles.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">What
was lifted up for weeks on the local news in Boston and <a href="https://www.cbsnews.com/video/the-embrace-a-monument-to-love/#x" target="_blank">nationally</a> as a beacon of hope and a monument to love
is now facing the question: <a href="https://www.cbsnews.com/video/will-the-public-embrace-the-embrace/" target="_blank">"Will the public embrace 'The Embrace'?"</a><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Making
my way to the Boston Common — the United States' oldest public park — on the
morning of the unveiling, the divisive maelstrom yet to come was the furthest
thing from my mind. Emerging from the "T" (Boston's subway system), I
found myself immersed in an atmosphere of excitement. Despite rainy weather
that gave way to overcast skies, crowds gathered in anticipation of the
unveiling.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Like
many of my fellow onlookers, I was surprised to find the monument and
grandstand for the celebration quartered off by metal fencing covered in opaque
material. We all apparently had missed the memo that the ceremony was by
invitation only and yet as crowds assembled both inside and outside the
designated 1965 Freedom Plaza, a celebratory spirit filled the air.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This
project, after all, had been a community effort. While "The Embrace"
was the vision of artist Hank Willis Thomas, executed in concert with the MASS
Design Group, the larger project that led to this day was a years long effort of
consultation, community-building and consciousness-raising.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Beginning
in 2017 with the intent of honoring the Kings, whose relationship began in
Boston and whose civil rights work returned them to the city over the years,
the nonprofit organization <a href="https://www.embraceboston.org/" target="_blank">Embrace Boston</a> solicited financial backers for a
memorial and engine of social change in the city (with projects reaching far
beyond the memorial to affect change in neighborhoods historically underserved
in Boston).</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">That
same year, the organization put out a call for artists that yielded hundreds of
proposals for a monument. Eventually the field was narrowed to five candidates
by the memorial's sponsor, and with public input, Thomas' "The
Embrace" was ultimately selected to be erected in the Common.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Positioning
myself on an incline overlooking the day's festivities, I watched as people
dressed in suits and skirts mingled with those in destressed denim and
sneakers. Everyone had gathered for this momentous occasion. No rain or
restricted views could dampen spirits. The fabric on the fences was soon torn
down by onlookers, so that despite the metal fence they too could have a vision
of the monument.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As
bands began to play and politicians gave speeches in commemoration of the Kings
and their legacy, I watched as parents ushered school-aged children up to the
fences, the closest onlookers making way so that the littlest could have a
front row (or at least fence) view of the proceedings.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The
thing that was most palpable, though, about the day was a sense of Black joy.
Embrace Boston's vision statement commits to "a radically inclusive and
equitable Boston where everyone belongs and Black people prosper, grounded in
joy, love, and wellbeing."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Joy
isn't something you can fabricate. It comes naturally from the heart. Joy rises
out of freedom, liberation, fullness.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">"The
joy of Black faith is a people coming together, praising and saying hallelujah
to a God that is freedom," the Rev. Kelly Brown Douglas told Kidada
Williams on the podcast "<a href="https://seizingfreedom.vpm.org/interview-kelly-brown-douglas/" target="_blank">Seizing Freedom</a>." "Because to me that is an
affirmation of life in the face of death. It's God's 'No!' to anything that would
deny Black life."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This
joy is a resistance. It has the last word and it calls forth justice, so that
all may be free.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As
I listened to the speakers at the unveiling of "The Embrace," the
words of <a href="https://massdesigngroup.org/team/jha-d-amazi" target="_blank">Jha D Amazi</a>, a principal partner in the MASS Design Group
that helped bring the statue to life, resonated with me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">"It
has been very hard for me as a daughter of Boston to maintain composure and not
bawl," Amazi told the crowd gathered. "This is such a beautiful
moment for me as a person but then you add the layers and the intersectionality
of my Blackness, of my womanhood, of again me being a native of Boston and then
to be offered the opportunity as a architect, as a young Black architect
educated in this city to participate in a moment like this where we honor the
Black experience, Black joy, Black love, in the oldest park in the
country."</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">That
joy and love were freely wafting in the air.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">"I
am reminded that we are called to do this work. And — this y'all — this is on
purpose. This is on time. This is on our shoulders."Amazi concluded.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">In
this moment, the call was clear — it was a call to joyful embodiment, freedom
and resistance. Here, a community had come together for the good of the whole.
The beloved community that the Kings advocated for throughout their lifetimes
was made manifest then and there. Was it perfect? No. But there was union in
purpose, solidarity in joy, and hope in community.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As
Coretta Scott King wrote, "To me, the Beloved Community is a realistic
vision of an achievable society, one in which problems and conflict exist, but
are resolved peacefully and without bitterness."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This
community works to eliminate poverty and hunger, bigotry and violence, for the
sake of all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">To
attain this Beloved Community requires that enough people commit to education
and training, courage and sustained action, especially those in the white
community. It requires embracing joy and recognizing that our joy is only
complete when it is joined with the joy of others, those who are oppressed, and
with God's joy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Amid
the debates over the design of "The Embrace" as a monument — its
figural exclusion of the Kings' faces, its perceived diminishment of their
radical message to one of simple love, and challenge of perspective to the
all-encompassing vantage — it would be a shame if the gifts of community that
went into its creation and the joy it encapsulates were lost.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">That
is the joy with which the Kings embraced originally when Dr. King won the Nobel
Peace Prize. That joy is tied to justice, to the love of God active in the
world and in the Kings' relationship. Sustaining joy and justice are our call
today.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As
Martin Luther King declared at the end of <a href="https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/peace/1964/king/lecture/" target="_blank">his Nobel Lecture</a> in 1964,<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I am not yet discouraged
about the future. Granted that the easygoing optimism of yesterday is
impossible. Granted that those who pioneer in the struggle for peace and
freedom will still face uncomfortable jail terms, painful threats of death;
they will still be battered by the storms of persecution, leading them to the
nagging feeling that they can no longer bear such a heavy burden, and the
temptation of wanting to retreat to a more quiet and serene life. Granted that
we face a world crisis which leaves us standing so often amid the surging
murmur of life's restless sea. But every crisis has both its dangers and its
opportunities. It can spell either salvation or doom. In a dark confused world
the kingdom of God may yet reign in the hearts of men.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<span style="font-family: georgia;">If we can embrace that vision of a love that does justice, God's joy will be alive in us, dwelling in our embrace of all that is broken, so that all — ourselves and our world included — may be free.</span>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-3539969421578482382022-12-10T07:51:00.000-05:002022-12-10T07:51:03.454-05:00From Give Us This Day: "Not the Glory We Imagine"<p style="text-align: center;"><i>For those of you who subscribe to </i><a href="https://giveusthisday.org/" target="_blank">Give Us This Day</a><i> from Liturgical Press, today's reflection is my own. If you don't subscribe (you really should!), I'm happy that they have given me permission to share it here. Blessings of the dawning light to you all....</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>---</i> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">December
2022<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Reflection<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Not the Glory We Imagine</span></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Anyone who has watched the sun rise knows the soft glow that
develops on the horizon right before the sun emerges. This dawning light ushers
in the new day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">In these Advent days of waiting, John the Baptist is the dawning
light of Christ. “Prepare the way of the Lord!” John cries out. As if to say,
“Soon the Son will be here, the light in all its fullness will shine forth.”
Inviting us to open our eyes to the glory of God dawning in Jesus, John fulfills
the role of an earlier prophet, Elijah, on whom today’s readings focus.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Elijah’s prophetic greatness was well known, as the book of Sirach
recounts. What’s more, he never died but was taken up in a chariot of fire.
Thus, in Jewish tradition, Elijah will return to make way for the Messiah, the
Anointed One who is to come.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Jesus’ disciples would have known and believed this. That is what
makes Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel all the more scandalous. In fulfilling
Elijah’s prophetic role, John the Baptist foretold Jesus as the Messiah and was
killed. Despite the glory of the Transfiguration (complete with Moses and
Elijah), which immediately precedes today’s Gospel, Jesus is telling the
disciples that the Messianic light they are anticipating may not be the glory
they imagined.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">This is a good reminder in these Advent days. The glorious savior
we anticipate will take the form of a vulnerable, marginalized child. Following
his way will lead us into uncomfortable territory where we are called to give
our whole selves in scandalously expansive love. By doing so, we prepare the
way, witnessing to the dawning light and trusting that God’s light will give us
life and our lives will shine Jesus’ light in the world.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Sr. Colleen Gibson<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Colleen Gibson is a Sister of Saint Joseph of Philadelphia. Author
of the blog Wandering in Wonder (beingmyvocation.blogspot.com), she is
currently pursuing a Master of Theological Studies degree at the Boston College
School of Theology and Ministry. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[CREDIT]<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sr. Colleen
Gibson, “Not the Glory We Imagine” from the </span><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">December
2022</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
issue of <i>Give Us This Day</i>, </span><a href="http://www.giveusthisday.org/" target="_blank"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">www.giveusthisday.org</span></a><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, </span><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">2022</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">). Used with permission.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-78579947071529532572022-12-02T09:31:00.002-05:002023-10-13T22:38:43.335-04:00Immaculate Reconceptions: Engaging Advent and moving beyond ourselves<p style="text-align: center;"><i>In my latest column from the <a href="https://www.globalsistersreport.org/immaculate-reconceptions-engaging-advent-and-moving-beyond-ourselves" target="_blank">Global Sisters Report</a>, I examine what it means to engage Advent and move beyond ourselves as we enter more intentionally into this season. How might God be inviting us to make room for new ideas, new emotions, and new conceptions of classic themes that move beyond "me" to "we"? I pray we each may strive for that movement these Advent days. Blessings!</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>--</i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This Advent I've begun to notice a particular sense of expectancy
all around me. Perhaps the best way to put it is that I have been encountering
pregnant pauses.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Watching as the Advent wreath is blessed and lit at Mass one
day, I find my attention drifting to the woman in the second row of chairs
gently caressing her growing stomach, the soft stretch of maternity-wear
elastic along her sides. A dear friend calls to deliver the news that he and
his wife are expecting, a pulsating wave of ecstatic love and nervous joy
pouring through the phone. A prayer intention of knowing grief hangs in the
quiet of a women's group as a member prays for a friend who has suffered a
miscarriage.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Babies. Mothers. Pregnancy. All around me. Expectancy.
Emotion. Embodiment.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Standing at the entrance of a friend's baby shower, I pause
as I hold a tiny slip of paper. The placard in front of me explains that my
friend and her wife have not yet chosen a name for their little one, who will
arrive <i>very</i> soon. "Suggest a name and tell us the meaning
behind it," the prompt suggests. As I fiddle with my pen, I think of all
that a name holds. I think of the pregnant pauses, the expectancy, and the
virtues I wish for this little one.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I pause to pray for my friends and for the world in which
all these pregnant pauses exist, where peace and flourishing coalesce with fear
and trembling — a world that God chooses to enter and a world where we are
asked to welcome God in.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Without any indication of biological sex, I think of the
myriad names I could offer on that tiny slip of paper — big names that take a
lifetime to live into and names that carry memories and aspirations. With
Advent on my mind, I think of hope, faith, joy and love. What do those things
mean to someone waiting to welcome new life into the world? What do they mean
to someone whose expectancy is met by the unexpected?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Those are the questions we carry with us as we enter into
this Advent season. This time of waiting and reflection prepares us for the
promise of Christmas and yet, as I consider the many pregnant pauses I've
encountered these days, I wonder if it might also invite us to reconceive of
the way in which we prepare to welcome that new life into our lives and our
world.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As I <a href="https://www.globalsistersreport.org/column/horizons/broken-christmas-god-works-darkness-43991" target="_blank">wrote</a> on these pages on the cusp of a Christmas past,
our God "is a God of brokenness … born under cover of night, in the
lowliest of places, fac[ing] insurmountable odds." This is the God we
believe in, the One who became human, who dwelt among us, who became poor to be
one with us at our most vulnerable. I think we can forget this or, perhaps,
choose to look past the fact that God opted for poverty and invites us, in this
season and all seasons, to do the same.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This last point is particularly poignant when considering
how easily Advent can become a season focused on inward, personal
transformation. In the quiet and the waiting, we pray to become something new.
This desire is sincere, no doubt. But whom and for what are we transforming?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">In this season of wonder and candle-lit darkness, we pray
that we might be transformed so that God may come to life in us. We ready
ourselves to receive the gifts of the Incarnation and the Christmas graces of
Emmanuel. This is a beautiful desire and admirable goal but if our Advent
actions stop there, we've missed a critical aspect of the season.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The One who is coming, the Christ we ready our hearts to
receive in a new way, is Emmanuel — God with <i>us</i>. Note the plural
there. God with us, not just <i>me</i>. This One is not a personal care
package or a boost to my spirit alone. The Christ is not incarnated in
isolation, confined to the insular creche I prepare in my heart. No, Christ
comes into the world and our lives on a much grander scale. This is the One who
comes for all people, in all places, especially those places that are broken or
abandoned. Our lives and our personal relationship with Jesus may very well be
the avenue through which Christ becomes apparent, but the gift that in that
advent of Christ offered is for everyone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Broadening our conception of Christ's coming at Christmas
also begs us to reconsider what else about this Advent season we might be
holding captive in the confines of our heart. Recalling how Mary pondered all
things about Jesus in her heart and Joseph reconsidered the plans he had made
in light of God's dream, we're invited with each passing week of Advent to
ponder how Christ's coming calls us to reconceive the themes we meditate on in
this season: hope, faith, joy and love.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The question becomes not only what do these things mean to
me, but what do these concepts mean to <i>us</i>?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Reconciling God's preferential love for the poor with our
own call to love in the world and encounter God in our neighbor begs us then to
reconceive the very themes we meditate upon. In this context, the hope we pray
for, which so often is a plea to God for a personal pick-me-up, becomes a
prayer that we might find hope in what is hidden <i>and</i> offer
hope despite what is unknown. With this hope, our meditation on faith becomes a
seeking of understanding about why God would dwell among us and what our belief
in such incarnation should do in the world. We make room for a faith that is
not independent but interdependent with God and with others.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Finding faith and hope straddling the inner and outer parts
of ourselves, we are surely swept up in reflecting on joy as the full-bodied
rejoicing that God is with us no matter what. More than mere happiness or
expectation, this Advent joy reflects the abundance of God, the fruit of pregnant
pauses that put flesh on the gift of God’s gratuitous love and rejoice in
finding joy and wonder in the existence of others. It is a joy that is not just
about our inner peace but peace on earth and goodwill toward all.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This naturally leads us to love. For God so loved the world
that God sent Jesus, Emmanuel, to be one with us, to dwell in our love and to
unite us in loving relationships of mutuality and grace. Increasing our
awareness through faith, hope and joy, we prepare room for love to finally rest
in the humble dwelling place of our being.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This final movement in the Advent cycle allows us to receive love as God offers it in prayer and in relationship and to offer it, in turn, freely to others and God by opening our hearts in vulnerability and surrender. It is the work of expectancy, emotion and embodiment immaculately conceived in us by God and reconceived over and over in our lifetime. As we undertake this work in a renewed way this Advent, may our prayer bring us beyond ourselves to reconceive of the gifts God offers us … to consider, in this moment, beyond myself, what God might be offering in the expectant waiting of our collective hearts.</span></p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-23259517010642031922022-11-15T00:00:00.001-05:002022-11-15T00:00:00.174-05:00A New Podcast: Beyond the Habit!<div class="separator" div="" style="clear: both; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTEaIjeehWRzoa75wTPwegeTdFnqeN-rgBhax7DFkuiqj9eYzFOgxkSf63vCrFNpjl3kXRP9hBXn_cxzTt32_xf43Ro8AEjUZjgyq9ZTHO-S4CVUPSrYCkhZU3Ty8UZmiJHYMLygKa1Acgon_8I0kbA2SaJpUV1dp0yzkAgwxsfo9F8SoUPEff_rCR2Q/s3000/Before%20Launch,%20full%20color.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTEaIjeehWRzoa75wTPwegeTdFnqeN-rgBhax7DFkuiqj9eYzFOgxkSf63vCrFNpjl3kXRP9hBXn_cxzTt32_xf43Ro8AEjUZjgyq9ZTHO-S4CVUPSrYCkhZU3Ty8UZmiJHYMLygKa1Acgon_8I0kbA2SaJpUV1dp0yzkAgwxsfo9F8SoUPEff_rCR2Q/s320/Before%20Launch,%20full%20color.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span face="Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Exciting news! After months of planning, I'm happy to announce the premier of <a class="x1i10hfl xjbqb8w x6umtig x1b1mbwd xaqea5y xav7gou x9f619 x1ypdohk xt0psk2 xe8uvvx xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x16tdsg8 x1hl2dhg xggy1nq x1a2a7pz xt0b8zv x1qq9wsj xo1l8bm" href="http://beyondthehabitpod.com" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0"><span class="xt0psk2" style="display: inline;">Beyond the Habit</span></a>, a podcast about moving beyond everyday assumptions of what it means to be Catholic and live the gospel, hosted by myself and Sister Erin McDonald, CSJ! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Our first episode, featuring Sister Helen Prejean, is available now at <a href="http://beyondthehabitpod.com/">http://beyondthehabitpod.com/</a> . If you scroll down the page you'll see a play button that will allow you to listen to this week's episode, entitled "Sneaky Jesus" (next Tuesday the second part of our conversation will be released). You can also see future episodes (the first season has 6) and more information about the podcast on the website as well.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">I'd also like to ask a favor: If you could share the podcast with anyone you think might enjoy the conversation, we'd be most grateful! As a friend wrote to me recently, this is a "ministry of the mic"... and, as you know, a mic only works if people hear the message (our charism) it's broadcasting! SO please share the link to the website far and wide and, if you're on social media, follow, like, and share our content on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/BeyondtheHabitPodcast">Facebook</a> and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/beyondthehabitpodcast/">Instagram</a>.</span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>So grateful to our wonderful production team, especially </span><span><span class="xt0psk2" style="display: inline;">Elizabeth Powers</span></span><span> and Sister </span><span><span class="xt0psk2" style="display: inline;">Sarah Simmons, CSJ</span></span><span> for their creativity, perseverance, and joy, and to the </span><span><a class="x1i10hfl xjbqb8w x6umtig x1b1mbwd xaqea5y xav7gou x9f619 x1ypdohk xt0psk2 xe8uvvx xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x16tdsg8 x1hl2dhg xggy1nq x1a2a7pz xt0b8zv x1qq9wsj xo1l8bm" href="https://www.facebook.com/congregationofstjoseph/?__cft__[0]=AZWG1LXAYEQI46j8vm8kYgyS448yrW85thWQWy7ynIgWrVN73c4ihit2zObl3GextDqXpXRnlbupLa6UYFk1HzrYH2NAMfHQObQf7ssG7xWLK0Y4j0FCG1j-Xiv_JM3uYlId7ucmr19SqODTSgkhJ9CwIpeGFieOQ3HpCvQ1yWeHJjJv8Xq0Qwsb-UjB-gDuTIo&__tn__=kK-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0"><span class="xt0psk2" style="display: inline;">Congregation of St. Joseph</span></a></span><span> and </span><span><a class="x1i10hfl xjbqb8w x6umtig x1b1mbwd xaqea5y xav7gou x9f619 x1ypdohk xt0psk2 xe8uvvx xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x16tdsg8 x1hl2dhg xggy1nq x1a2a7pz xt0b8zv x1qq9wsj xo1l8bm" href="https://www.facebook.com/ssjphiladelphia?__cft__[0]=AZWG1LXAYEQI46j8vm8kYgyS448yrW85thWQWy7ynIgWrVN73c4ihit2zObl3GextDqXpXRnlbupLa6UYFk1HzrYH2NAMfHQObQf7ssG7xWLK0Y4j0FCG1j-Xiv_JM3uYlId7ucmr19SqODTSgkhJ9CwIpeGFieOQ3HpCvQ1yWeHJjJv8Xq0Qwsb-UjB-gDuTIo&__tn__=-]K-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0"><span class="xt0psk2" style="display: inline;">Sisters of Saint Joseph of Philadelphia</span></a></span><span for="" span="" support="" their=""></span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Happy Listening & Many Thanks, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Colleen</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div></div>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-22147905154796543682022-10-23T14:07:00.002-04:002022-10-23T20:11:31.771-04:00The Poor Cry Out: Blessed Be The Lord<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/YzZ50i9LT1c" width="320" youtube-src-id="YzZ50i9LT1c"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"> This Sunday we hear the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, in whose prayers we find lessons for each of us to reflect more deeply on. Jesus is asking us to examine ourselves more than these two figures... to look differently... to expand our vision. As part of my current studies at Boston College School of Theology and Ministry, I offered a reflection on this <a href="https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/102322.cfm" target="_blank">Sunday's Scriptures</a>. Click above to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzZ50i9LT1c" target="_blank">watch me preach</a> or read the reflection I offer below.</span></i></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">--</span></i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">After the first full week of classes this semester, I found myself at mass early one Sunday morning, happy be in a familiar place of prayer and quiet. My head was swimming with thoughts about my classes- Should I add this class or drop that class? Was I smart enough to hold my own? Would I be able to do all the work that would be asked of me? How was God leading my studies and where was this all headed?</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As I sorted through my own internal dialogue, the familiar refrain of today’s responsorial psalm broke through. <i>“The Lord hears the cry of the poor. Blessed be the Lord.” </i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard this refrain from Psalm 34 in my life, but in that moment, as it interrupted my internal dialogue of doubt and worry, I heard it in a different way. I had always presumed that the psalmist was saying that God’s blessedness is revealed in the hearing of the cries of the poor. And while this is true, I also realized that in so many moments of my life, I didn’t count myself among the poor. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Like the Pharisee in today’s Gospel, I righteously considered myself separate from the rest of humanity. I do what is right, I study theology, I show up on Sunday morning. Of course, God would hear my prayers.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Yet sitting there that morning, feeling poor in spirit and facing the limits of my capabilities, I could hear the tax collector’s voice deep within. “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” Part of being human is recognizing our limitations. Part of being Christian is believing that by becoming human, God in Jesus Christ reconciles the world and each of us to God’s self. God knows and loves us in our very humanity.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As the first reading from Sirach today recounts: God doesn’t play favorites, when we cry out God hears us and our prayers remain with God until there is reconciliation. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">In faith, we trust in God’s steadfast presence, knowing the many ways throughout our lives that God has provided for us in our poverty and recognizing that God stands particularly with those on the margins- the excluded and overlooked, the oppressed and the materially impoverished.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">With humility then, we are called to work for justice and right relationship, here and now. This work is not our own. It makes us no better than anyone else. In fact, if done correctly, it will humble us, making us face our self-deceptions and reminding us of the grace of our humanity. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">And if we can do this with humble hearts and utter dependence on God, we might just hear ourselves- the poor ones- cry out. “Blessed be the Lord!”</span></p><p><br /></p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-29498641763562830732022-09-30T10:57:00.003-04:002023-10-13T22:39:25.712-04:00We are Living Documents: Synod Reports & a Spirit-led Church<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>My latest contribution to the <a href="https://www.globalsistersreport.org/news/spirituality/column/we-are-living-documents-synod-reports-and-spirit-led-church" target="_blank">Global Sisters Report</a> focuses on the national synthesis of synod reports released in the United States on September 19th, my own experience of synodality over the past year, and what I think it has to teach us about the church as a Spirit-led institution. May the Spirit continue to guide each one of us, calling us to transformation and forming our hearts and institutions in the way of listening and discovery for all God calls us to!</i></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">---</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">"<i>I
believe in one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church.</i>" Or so I say
every week. It's a church I have belonged to my whole life, a church I've given
my life to, and a church still becoming a truer version of what it says it is.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Two
weeks ago, on Sept. 19, the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops released
its <a href="https://www.usccb.org/resources/us-national-synthesis-2021-2023-synod" target="_blank">national synthesis</a> of the synodal process in the
United States. Bringing the diocesan phase of the synodal process to a close,
this document provides an overview of the over 22,000 reports gathered by U.S.
dioceses from individual parishes and other groups. As one of the estimated
700,000 people who participated in the synod in the United States, I opened the
national synthesis with an air of both caution and hope.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">To
be honest, hope and caution were the feelings that accompanied me when I took
part in a synodal listening session this past spring. Shuffling into a
classroom with about 50 other people, a cautious hopefulness (or was it a
hopeful cautiousness?) filled me. My hope was in a process that brought people
together to listen and discern, reliant on relationships and open to the Holy
Spirit. My reticence stemmed from a fear that either the process wouldn't live
up to that expectation or it would be so expansive that the variety of voices
speaking in the process would be lost.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Greeted
by an invitation to silent reflection followed by intentional listening and
sharing, the session offered a safe space for participants to offer their hopes
and desires as well as disappointments and disaffections. Naming what
"we" do well as a church and what needs more attention, there was a
respect in the room as we listened to the stories shared and gathered a vision
of church that it seemed we all could recognize in one way or another.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As
I looked around, I saw a room full of "living human documents," to
borrow a term from Anton Boisen. Filling the classroom like a living library,
we formed a full display of the lessons, lesions, and longings of faithfully
lived lives of faith. Each one bearing their own story and sharing what they
were able, naming from their experience the church for what it is and imagining
what it could be in communion.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">By
the end of that session, I found myself hope-filled as I signed up to be part
of a team of participants who would synthesize the reports from a series of
synodal meetings. Later, combing through the written results of multiple
sessions, I bristled at opinions I didn't necessarily agree with, priorities
that didn't align with my own, and issues that I thought would never make it to
the national synthesis. Looking at the report of mixed perspectives and
priorities our team submitted, I wondered what would surface on the other side
of the synod. Even as caution returned, I found myself confronted by the fact
that there on the page was the voice of a church, nearly 2,000 years old, still
finding its way.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Reading
through the <a href="https://www.usccb.org/resources/us-national-synthesis-2021-2023-synod" target="_blank">national synthesis</a>, I've found the vision I feared might be
lost in synthesis there on the page as well as those I'd wished would have
been. <i>One, holy, catholic and apostolic church.</i> Voices
speaking about the ordination of women as “as a matter of justice” and
attention to racism and the need to cultivate means of welcoming LGBTQ+ persons
as well as the disabled and disenfranchised were placed next to lamentations
about “limited access to the 1962 Missal,” disengagement in parish communities
accelerated by COVID-19, and the spread of cultural divisions reflective of
larger societal polarization within the faithful, and especially within the
hierarchy. <i>One, holy, catholic and apostolic church</i>, I reminded
myself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As
James Joyce famously quipped in <i><a href="https://www.globalgreyebooks.com/finnegans-wake-ebook.html" target="_blank">Finnegans Wake</a></i>, "Catholic means 'Here comes
everybody.' " That's part of the universalism that is being catholic. And
while the oneness we proclaim may be a hard-forged unity, the national
synthesis offers hope that even if it is not a full reality, unity is desired
by people on all sides of the ecclesial aisle.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Studying <a href="https://www.ncronline.org/feature-series/synod-on-synodality/stories" target="_blank">reports</a> on diocesan synodal reports and commentaries
on the wealth of input released during the synodal process, I have been edified
by the honesty and humility with which we, the church, have undertaken this
process.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Has
it been perfect? No. Did it take place everywhere? Also, no. Were enough voices
heard? With an estimated 700,000 participants out of 66.8 million U.S.
Catholics, a figure of about 1%, the answer once again is "no."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Yet
still something is being done, voices are being raised, relationships built,
consciences challenged.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Small
though it is, the 1% is confronting the echo chamber that can be the church
circles we choose to run in. Calling our attention to how we hear messages that
challenge us in ways we feel comfortable, what voices we seek out to support
our side, and where we search out conversation partners and companions on the
journey. And the invitation from that small sample is offered to the whole
church.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As
Bishop Daniel Flores of Brownsville, Texas, writes in the national aynthesis'
introduction, "The publication of this document is not a concluding moment
… it is a reflective, forward-moving moment. It is an invitation to listen, to
discuss together and to discern together as the Church, about how best to
understand and act upon those matters that sit deeply in the hearts and minds
of Catholics in the U.S."<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This
is a moment. A moment which marks what has been and the conversations that have
been had and also a moment that looks forward. The synthesis report does not
leave behind what has occurred in parishes and meeting halls, it does not
forego the work of future Zoom calls and homegrown gatherings. It acknowledges
that these gatherings were fruitful. That in those spaces concerns and wounds
came to light, desires and joys were shared with faith, hope and love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">For
individuals, communities and the church writ large, this synodal moment is not
over and the U.S. synthesis report makes that clear. To stop now would be to
curtail the Spirit, to cut the conversation off mid-sentence.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">We
must keep on listening, speaking and acting, in the Spirit and with one
another. As the synthesis advises, “Attentive listening in the Church provides
the catalyst for engaging discernment.” With engaged discernment, we can read
each other as living documents with openness, respect and curiosity, learning
in the process and growing as the body of Christ.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As
Flores again writes, “The Synthesis is, among other things, an expression of
what we as a Church have heard each other say when asked about our deepest
preoccupations and hopes for the Church of which, by the grace of God, we are
all a vital part.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #414042; font-family: georgia;">As we continue this synodal journey in faith, hopeful if but cautious, we must remember that each of us is vital to this church. Together as living documents, we are one, holy, catholic and apostolic. Our call is to live what we profess. Inscribed with grace, our lives bear witness to the Spirit at work in synod reports and in the living documents that we are.</span></p><p></p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-83791149031677083752022-09-20T22:29:00.004-04:002022-09-20T22:30:44.578-04:00"Hope comes in the mourning"<p>In reflecting on the passing of Queen Elizabeth II this past week, I've found myself wondering if a true honoring of the Queen's legacy of faith would be to confront the colonial ties of the monarchy and to reform the role as a means of unification, reconciliation, and reparation in a post-colonial context. That reflection led me to write a piece for La Croix International on Monday, September 19, the day of the Queen's burial. To read the piece, entitled "Hope comes in the mourning," visit: <a href="https://international.la-croix.com/news/world/hope-comes-in-the-mourning/16620" target="_blank">https://international.la-croix.com/news/world/hope-comes-in-the-mourning/16620 </a></p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-78888842059061367012022-07-30T22:23:00.002-04:002022-07-30T22:23:42.684-04:00In Praise of a Snail's Pace<p style="text-align: center;"><i> Earlier this summer I found myself down the Shore grappling with the state of our world and the question of how long change takes... what pace should we be moving at? Why can't it happen already? What role do we all have to play? See my reflections on these questions in my latest column for </i><i>the <a href="https://www.globalsistersreport.org/news/spirituality/column/praise-snails-pace" target="_blank">Global Sisters Report</a> below...</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>--</i></p><p>As I made my way to the beach on an early June morning, the
glint of a shell caught my eye. I smiled at the snail that bore it on its back,
stuck to the vertical face of the stairs leading up to the boardwalk. "It
looks like we're headed to the same place," I thought as I smiled to myself
and scurried up the steps to the boardwalk and the beach beyond.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The morning sky had only begun to lighten, bearing the
promising marks of the sunrise yet to come. In the stillness of dawn, the world
seemed to pause before daybreak. No children dotted the sand. No planes cut
across the sky, and no boats disturbed the sea.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Watching the sun come up over the Atlantic, I marveled at
the beauty of a new day dawning as I walked the shoreline, sinking deeper into
the serenity of the salty surf with each step. As the sun rose higher and
burned brighter, I turned to make my way back to where I was staying. The day
had begun and, with my heart at peace, my head had begun its foray into the day
ahead.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dusting off my feet as I crossed from the beach to the
boardwalk, I saw the glint of a shell at the top of the boardwalk stairs. I
doubt that the snail had come to see the sunrise, but still I rejoiced in its
ascent. Stopping at the top step, I set aside my plans to head home.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">With a soft, fluid motion, the snail made its way over gaps
in the boardwalk and shards of stone and glass scattered in its path. This is a
snail's pace: an almost imperceivable motion that gets it where it's going with
minimal friction and fullness of presence as it searches its way to wherever
it's headed.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Watching my little invertebrate friend, my mind began to get
frustrated. <i>Come on! Let's get going! The day has dawned, and you are watching
a bug!</i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The beauty of my morning walk had burned off, and yet still
I sat there, watching the snail slowly sail along. Despite my mind's
impatience, my attention remained intently focused on the action unfolding
around and within me. The question that surfaced within me was that of the
psalmist in Psalm 13: <i>How long, O Lord? How long?</i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">With everything happening in the world, this lament felt
fitting. How long can this war, this drought, this virus, this suffering, this
dissension go on?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">If we continue at this pace — in religious life, in public
discourse, in our church, and in our world — will we ever make the turn? That
is, will we find our direction? Will we pivot to the point where the dawning
light is one we can embrace and not a series of should-haves and could-haves?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As Nan Merrill translates the middle of Psalm 13:</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>How long will fear rule my life?</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Notice my heart and answer me, O my Beloved;<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>enlighten me, lest I walk as one dead to life;<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Lest my ego fears say, "We have won the day;"<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Lest they rejoice in their strength.<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This, I fear, could and perhaps has become a part of our
movement. That we might say, "This pace" — be it too slow or too fast
— "is fine." We must remember, after all, that a snail's pace is fine
... for a snail.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We, however, are not snails. We belong to living, breathing
communities; we are people seeking the light of dawn and called to press on
toward that light. Justice presses us to move faster. It calls us to open our
doors wider, to hear voices excluded, and to see who and what is missing. The
Spirit assures us that if we follow, grace will never outpace us. Our call is
to do this as best we know how and, at the same time, to improve our knowing
along the way. This is a call to the church, our congregations, our persons,
and our society.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Like the snail, we can't wait. The turn toward the future is
not a theory; it's as real as the steps that stand before us. The snail shows
us that we must press on, not just dealing with this moment or maybe the next,
but the whole staircase ahead of us as best we can know and see it. With
agility and persistence, we must face our fears, interrogate our assumptions,
hear laments, and embrace the pace God is calling us to.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We may cry out, "How long?!", but what if God is
asking us to pick up the pace and rise to the occasion? To see God's face in
the world around us and to discover that God is with us each step of the way?
To recognize and embrace the reality that, in fact, we have our home in Jesus?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This is the home that we carry with us in the world, the
reality religious life witnesses to, the shell that sparkles in the sun. This
home is the love of God. It is the blessing that we (and the psalmist) rejoice
in — a steadfast love in which our hearts rejoice, a total union with God, a
safe shelter we are called to share with all the world.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Carrying that love with us, we await those whose heads are
buzzing with all our present day holds. We make space so that they might find a
home in God too, and perhaps slow themselves long enough to sit beside us at
the dawn of a new day and embrace the beauty and peace that a pace not unlike
that of a snail has to offer us.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-12314516452217891572022-07-18T21:48:00.000-04:002022-07-18T21:48:11.526-04:00Poem: Midnight Fonts<div style="text-align: center;"><i>This past weekend I was in San Antonio, Texas with more than 70 other women religious under the age of 50 for the Giving Voice National Gathering. Our time together was blessed as we shared life and space together. The fruit of my own reflection is the poem below... </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSI_CkGLmw8Mp4yUu5G9PjEtLECDDAT4fwzBn4vWWS0GZrS4J6Ws4kc1S0Kp8QlsF4Xi5FSuidKtFc8Bs2qK-pWSgdVhur98tpG8-bshyzjbQZY2ylKmCslF88sEteRDVpADrA-QQopooVtfD2eRKQ5qKYA2RqFGG1c_N1E-02ZKPgGehSgtahppATJA/s320/294585134_10101384663235756_7027673935314983608_n.jpg" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This is the land of the water people</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The ones who in the middle of the night</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">come</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">with jugs and bottles</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">souls shaped like cisterns</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">waiting to be filled.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">They kneel low at the spigots</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">filling their vessels to the brim</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">These are the ones hauling holy water</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">the sacrament of the silent hoisting on shoulders</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">They bear the weight atop their heads </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">and believe that this water will work wonders </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">in the hearts of the world. </span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjzqaXFUY9uSY2RndnHF3HI-FYnwRzWsxqWPAIIxSLIU3A9MYRZh7LeUWXeQ2mnsGtmOOmxd7bCaZzEQ5ZJqCGOKOAAAsf5mmi1EdbluhxpdH_oTLoJmdMz3SjduPOn1WRjqpi4iENvCOnCxeh-2aLSBttv_DO5MWSKLsn2j89molY4pUi5MMrepAPNw/s1625/294203105_10101384663260706_5585988991885061194_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1625" data-original-width="1440" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjzqaXFUY9uSY2RndnHF3HI-FYnwRzWsxqWPAIIxSLIU3A9MYRZh7LeUWXeQ2mnsGtmOOmxd7bCaZzEQ5ZJqCGOKOAAAsf5mmi1EdbluhxpdH_oTLoJmdMz3SjduPOn1WRjqpi4iENvCOnCxeh-2aLSBttv_DO5MWSKLsn2j89molY4pUi5MMrepAPNw/w178-h200/294203105_10101384663260706_5585988991885061194_n.jpg" width="178" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXmFeaBlDjkYJBrwh6om5HCbE3GT5ALyTDRFid_cmJY83oiEpy3_KsPyL1kQgHj6lYGivUhtcm75jFIS-2GUv5qMZ42sRs6ypz0v62RHTVd3SdF48ncAQdlOtX5mqu7FY4QFPqa3bCNvVwqBDlLOHmMgJ6P-MZ-fmJLF6AkYU_svODv54Ude-8XTf1w/s1624/294192353_10101384663255716_105471030265417330_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1624" data-original-width="1440" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXmFeaBlDjkYJBrwh6om5HCbE3GT5ALyTDRFid_cmJY83oiEpy3_KsPyL1kQgHj6lYGivUhtcm75jFIS-2GUv5qMZ42sRs6ypz0v62RHTVd3SdF48ncAQdlOtX5mqu7FY4QFPqa3bCNvVwqBDlLOHmMgJ6P-MZ-fmJLF6AkYU_svODv54Ude-8XTf1w/w178-h200/294192353_10101384663255716_105471030265417330_n.jpg" width="178" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPG2q9rVQay9C_CfuU-4hTpM4c0uR-jBAWW4UDScm2KiE_g1GRDd0Atv9Or7gNq7qykbJuO4tnXQ0tSrarvmvYLeoFjdt4l9tbgf6s-wjJovCRX0bfelgAHu_eUkt8ZrmQh3FTj0duQXZWwmmvtY09Rw2QiZswpvIJizU5VCxheOEzCz2JCdIzZys-A/s1625/294195697_10101384663250726_5132675941388765007_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1625" data-original-width="1440" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPG2q9rVQay9C_CfuU-4hTpM4c0uR-jBAWW4UDScm2KiE_g1GRDd0Atv9Or7gNq7qykbJuO4tnXQ0tSrarvmvYLeoFjdt4l9tbgf6s-wjJovCRX0bfelgAHu_eUkt8ZrmQh3FTj0duQXZWwmmvtY09Rw2QiZswpvIJizU5VCxheOEzCz2JCdIzZys-A/w178-h200/294195697_10101384663250726_5132675941388765007_n.jpg" width="178" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRmNNLd8RXWFtcD_e1kPEBHFgGu7bO1xpVCSNLXxMS2rU-2asbPGeqdlzI_Bgsg6vturyjg8aSq5ZDWTSB4Mq_KQLABcQ486n3xn2sLCob2BAvw8W3nQqQWCY7TTErFYiqUW1J4u0D8usVbrAyfSyMdsAL9GSjWtuksdUu0hGkJbgWtCZe_x3iL8R8qA/s1624/294631021_10101384663245736_9005639168461516500_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1624" data-original-width="1440" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRmNNLd8RXWFtcD_e1kPEBHFgGu7bO1xpVCSNLXxMS2rU-2asbPGeqdlzI_Bgsg6vturyjg8aSq5ZDWTSB4Mq_KQLABcQ486n3xn2sLCob2BAvw8W3nQqQWCY7TTErFYiqUW1J4u0D8usVbrAyfSyMdsAL9GSjWtuksdUu0hGkJbgWtCZe_x3iL8R8qA/w178-h200/294631021_10101384663245736_9005639168461516500_n.jpg" width="178" /></a><img border="0" data-original-height="1625" data-original-width="1440" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBtTmKAoSAJF09S8QALBnMKxvxHC_VPghEkMLS9szEgeR8nksN2_SQLwUj4o07pa4xcmOBcNzu0tGOGcInLKFwi9vyvvu-E0iUD-xI3fBcobLZRZUxEhQWgaI4Tu0TyUYScbQioBz3oyX6UQ3cWJhoaPQFCsDuZlWBhr3cVIGlKBo6PfoiFlhIagRBg/w178-h200/294140374_10101384663230766_3688854802555211904_n.jpg" style="color: #0000ee;" width="178" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1625" data-original-width="1440" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsHpJsF5XevRHqp3a05YZpru2ZOb8qKboL5yPMZOa8CK6hPT-md_uEFp1hbCNqhmtpODyrDTA5mYDUmDShPrKjulBrzU1ifuDjhsapbZZ9FZxuS1_-kgCiwhc5xflc-20-e8piGRHvbBZaLesojr059OYymqve1H8EOtkAAylyTEr2fXCK1EKmIsXN8g/w178-h200/294182134_10101384663225776_7341052742895830069_n.jpg" style="color: #0000ee;" width="178" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /> <p></p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-13308336152189291812022-06-05T06:54:00.001-04:002022-07-18T21:37:12.527-04:00More than hope: Spiritual gifts for troubling times<p style="text-align: center;"><i>My latest column for the <a href="https://www.globalsistersreport.org/news/spirituality/column/more-hope-spiritual-gifts-troubling-times" target="_blank">Global Sisters Report</a> is a reflection on the gifts of the Holy Spirit and how a reconsideration of them might offer us something more than hope in these troubling times. May the Spirit guide each of us along the way- Come, Holy Spirit, Come!</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p>"Look!" I unthinkingly prompted my 8-year-old nephew as we drove past the flagpole in front of a local daycare last week. We had just finished his homework, a worksheet about Memorial Day, before we set out for the local playground. "What do we call that?"</p><p>I could see his mind searching for the word we'd learned from the worksheet as I looked at him in the rearview mirror. After a few moments, the word surfaced in his mind. "Half-mast?" He replied with the uncertainty of a newly learned word. “That’s right.” I assured him. "That flag is at half-mast."</p><p>For a split second, I thought to myself: It's only Thursday. Why are they marking Memorial Day already?" Then I remembered: Uvalde. The school shooting.</p><p>Of course, it could have been the Tops Market in Buffalo, too, or the church shooting in Orange County, California. As I wrote on these very pages six years ago: "The flags are at half-staff again."</p><p>Then, I argued that the virtue of hope might sustain us for the long haul. "Hope sustains us and allows us to see more clearly, no matter how blurry the signs of the times might seem. … If we can keep that hope before our eyes, we will see clearly. Our hearts will still ache, and rightfully so, at the sight of flags at half-staff. But we will remember that we have a role to play in healing the heart of humanity, a part to play in the life of faith, hope and love alive in this world."</p><p>I still believe this — that hope prevails — but I have to wonder if the endless list of shootings proves me wrong. I have to grapple with the fact that news of the war in Ukraine has become commonplace and the other violence in our world that it overshadows in our prayers remains all but forgotten. I have to reflect on what I'm doing, what I've done, what I haven't, and for who and whom I'm holding out hope.</p><p>On the cusp of Pentecost, the resounding call of the Spirit seems to be not to abandon hope but to ask what exactly is meant to be built upon it. Faith, hope, and love dwell in our being by virtue of our baptism. These are the virtues that ground our being and sustain our souls. They are gifts from God that call forth more than just sweet visions of the hereafter or nostalgia for a simpler time. Stopping to reflect on these virtues demands something more of us as believers. It curiously compels us to reconsider the gifts of the Holy Spirit, and in the process to assess what these gifts might mean for us in times such as these.</p><p>The gifts of the Holy Spirit — wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety and fear of the Lord —are bestowed on us in the sacrament of confirmation. And just as confirmation is a response of faith in a moment for a lifetime, so are the gifts given in that moment. They are not just relegated to a confirmation class or catechesis; these gifts are meant to be practiced, to grow and mature in us as we give life to the faith we profess. They build on the virtues of faith, hope and love, and they call us to follow the inspiration of the Spirit with openness, integrity and zeal. With creativity, the Spirit invites us to reimagine them in each new moment to meet the needs of the world and serve the Reign of God.</p><p>What then, might these gifts look like for us in this moment?</p><p>At its core, wisdom is the gift that fills our hearts and minds with a sense of what is good and right. To seek what is true and just requires that we embrace the wisdom that comes from God. Wisdom can challenge us to discern what we think we know and to discover what we don't. With the help of the Spirit, we seek wisdom so that we can balance what is best for us with the common good, recognizing that at times our own comfort and entitlement must decrease so that wisdom may prevail, that our prejudices and privilege stand in the way wisdom's call to act justly.</p><p>If wisdom distinguishes right from wrong, understanding is the invitation to see that distinction more clearly. Understanding gets to the heart of the matter at hand, opening us to insight and inviting us to discern where God is speaking in a given situation. Is God in the cries of pain and grief? How does God stand with those who are persecuted? Where is God in the lives of those who perpetrate violence? We may never fully understand the answers to these questions, but the Spirit guides us to clearly comprehend God's presence and discern God's will in the situations we face.</p><p>Understanding, however, is not something we come to only on our own. We need to seek the counsel of the Spirit as it dwells in community. The gift of counsel is being able to converse with others, to listen to advice and insight as well as offering your own. Together we better understand situations because in communion with one another we challenge one another's preconceived notions, we warn one another and we call forth the best. This isn't always easy. Complacency and "know-it-all-ism" can stifle counsel. If understanding is to see clearly and wisdom is to discern actively, then counsel is to listen attentively with our heads and our hearts.</p><p>Engaging these three gifts leads us to the fourth: fortitude. This is the strength and stamina to continue pursuing the engagement wisdom, understanding and counsel call forth. When each new day brings another tragedy, fortitude is particularly important. We must remain morally strong. We can't give up on justice. Losing heart is not an option. The Spirit remains with us in our mourning and lamentation. It calls us to be strong in admitting our faults and resolute in pursuing what is right.</p><p>Fortitude requires admitting our power, naming what it is that we can tangibly do to make a difference and continuously calling those with political power to make change on a larger scale. I may not be able to stop the sale of semiautomatic firearms, but I can press others to do so. In this way, the gift of fortitude is an enduring spirit, resilient in embracing the demands of justice and courageous in the humility with which it interprets what commitment to God’s command to love boldly looks like in lived reality.</p><p>Part of this humility is the pursuit of knowledge, which is a gift unto itself. Knowledge as a gift of the Spirit invites us to expand our horizons, to learn not just for the sake of knowing but for constructive means. What we learn we must put to use; it is our moral obligation to be informed, to counteract misinformation and to challenge our assumptions by bringing ignorance to light.</p><p>Finally, there is piety and fear of God, a double dose of devotion that calls us to deepen our relationship with God. The personal prayer that is piety and the healthy distinction that we, in fact, are not God that is found in the fear of God, directs us to see that by using the gifts of the Spirit we are called to imitate Jesus. These gifts ground our faith, calling us to personal holiness and respect for all that God has created. A respectful relationship with God inspires awe and reverence in our relationship with God and with all of God’s creation. Such respect begs us to protect the people and places God loves, to fall deeper in love with God by embracing the lowly, the unknown, and the unexpected people and situations of our lives as gifts.</p><p>In the end, it is our embrace of the gifts of the Holy Spirit that cultivates a hunger for justice and love of God that go hand in hand. These gifts are meant to be put into action, used in union, and refined and reimagined each new day. The hope, faith, and love they build upon are the foundation of our life and need to call us to a heightened sense of wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety and fear of God. In world that seems to be on fire, these gifts fan our spirits into flame. Together with the Holy Spirit, we are called to remember what we'd rather forget, face what we'd rather ignore and change what is dimming the light of life in our hearts, our lives and our world.</p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-40504109119396283892022-03-25T11:28:00.002-04:002023-10-13T22:41:40.684-04:00Everyday Annunciations<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>As we mark the Solemnity of the Annunciation, my latest column for the <a href="https://www.globalsistersreport.org/news/spirituality/column/everyday-annunciations-art-listening-god-who-never-shuts" target="_blank">Global Sisters Report</a> reminds us that God is always reaching out, trying to get our attention. These everyday annunciations can transform our hearts time and again if we take the time to listen. I hope this day that you pay attention to where the light is trying to break in or at least remember the annunciations of your life that remind you that God has spoken and will continue to speak to you. Enjoy!</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.globalsistersreport.org/sites/default/files/styles/article_full_width/public/3.25.22%20The%20Annunciation_Tanner.jpg?itok=4Yk5KTp1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="583" data-original-width="800" height="233" src="https://www.globalsistersreport.org/sites/default/files/styles/article_full_width/public/3.25.22%20The%20Annunciation_Tanner.jpg?itok=4Yk5KTp1" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>For years, I would buy a ticket to the Philadelphia Museum
of Art for one thing and one thing only: "The Annunciation."</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Ticket in hand, I would wind my way down the art-lined
hallways of the museum to a gallery deep in the bowels of the American art
wing. At times, it felt like I was making my way to the center of the earth,
past presidential china and countless still life paintings, quilts and western
landscapes, until I turned the corner into a gallery with raised ceilings and a
few flat wooden benches.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And there it was: Henry Ossawa Tanner's "<a href="https://philamuseum.org/collection/object/104384" target="_blank">The
Annunciation</a>."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sitting on the bench directly in front of the massive
painting (over 6 feet tall and 7 feet wide), I would simply gaze on the
glimmering canvas. On it, an adolescent girl in the humble dress of a peasant
sits reservedly among the crumpled sheets of her bed. Clasping her hands, she
looks at the beam of light before her. Her eyes reflect its glow, which
illuminates the whole room with a gentle warmth. She has no halo, no shoes and,
seemingly, no fear. This young Mary sits and looks intently. Her eyes are fixed
on the light that we come to realize is Gabriel. The moment is sacred and
still, speaking volumes.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">From my seat on the bench, I would scan every inch of the
painting. <i>What, God, are you trying to say? What must she have felt,
said, heard? </i>Instinctively my hands would come together like Mary's,
my fingers intertwining with hers in prayer. <i>Were you scared or
startled? Had you known all along there was something more meant for you? Was
Gabriel's voice familiar like one you had heard a thousand times before? The
light and its glow, a gentle reminder of the God who filled every day of your
young life?</i><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Shifting my focus from the light to Mary and back again, the
minutes would fade into hours as my prayers filled the sanctuary of the
gallery. Before I became a sister, this sacred space could hold the questions
of "what if," and after I had entered into the process, there was a
clandestine comfort in being hidden away in the cloister of culture the art
museum provided. The what ifs continued and, in time, transformed. "What
if <i>this</i> is what I'm being called to?" I would think as I
looked at the shimmering canvas. The "this" was not just religious
life but encounter with God. What if that call to encounter could be found in
this moment? What if the annunciation was not a past occurrence or a beautiful
work of art but a daily experience of living?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For, as comforting as that gallery was, I knew that the true
annunciations of life took place out on the street level. There amidst the
pressing demands of work and the noise of every conceivable need in the world,
God was speaking to my heart. I just needed to stop long enough to let myself
listen. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So often, that is the case. We rush from place to place,
moment to moment, person to person, without pausing to recognize the light
right in front of us. The temptation is to assign meaning to our doing rather
than our being. I need to help one more person, encounter one more thing,
accomplish one more task before the day is complete … I don't need to stop and
listen. I already know what God is saying.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Or, perhaps consciously or unconsciously, we think : If I
don't stop, I won't have to listen to what God might be trying to say. If I
flood my day with news and noise, I can be concerned about that rather than
truly bringing those things and my heart to prayer. Then when I pray, I will
clasp my hands and eyes as well as my ears and heart, keeping the light at bay
and holding on to control.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Unfortunately (or fortunately), that's not how annunciations
work. God never shuts up and any crack can let the light in. Thinking of Mary
poised on her messy bed I think of the image Beth Knobbe offers in her
book <i><a href="https://bethknobbe.com/my-books/finding-my-voice/" target="_blank">Finding My Voice</a></i> as she talks about not trying to
hide anything from God. "God is like the girlfriend who stops by
unexpectedly when my apartment is a mess," she writes. "Whether I am
ready for company or not, she really doesn't mind." We don’t need to make
a perfect setting, Knobbe insists. God will come in anyway. "God is the
one who comes over and sits on the bed, while I rush around picking up clothes
… she is more concerned about the conversation at hand than the dirty dishes in
the sink."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This is the God who offers us everyday annunciations. Even
if we are unresponsive or preoccupied, God continues the conversation at hand,
be it through the people we encounter, the words we hear ourselves say, the
nagging thoughts or feelings we return to, or the sense of unease that invites
us to stop and sit for a little while.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">From time to time as I sat before "The
Annunciation," a tour group would make its way into the gallery.
"Here we have one of the greatest American paintings ever," the tour
guide would declare. Drawing my attention from the painting, the tour guide
would motion toward a painting directly behind me: "<a href="https://philamuseum.org/calendar/exhibition/gross-clinic-thomas-eakins" target="_blank">The Gross Clinic</a>" by Thomas Eakins.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Soon the tour group would surround me on my bench, their
backs turned on the magical realism of "The Annunciation" to take in
the gruesome testament to medical history and artistic realism the tour guide
pointed out. Sitting with my hands folded, I wanted to shout: "Do you see
what you're missing?!" — but I couldn't. Annunciations beg our attention
on their own. Like shafts of light breaking into the gruesome reality of life,
they invite us to something more. They invite us to recognize that, indeed, we
are on holy ground, called and blessed, met by God in this very moment, messy
as it may be.</p><p class="MsoNormal">With all that is going on in the world, it is the everyday annunciations that give us pause, to stop long enough to look intently and to say yes to the God who never stops speaking (or hoping) that we might open our hearts and our lives to listen and respond accordingly.</p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-3920661196325928212022-01-21T14:13:00.004-05:002023-10-13T22:42:14.248-04:00Dr. King's call and ours.<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>This past Monday, we celebrated Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in the United States. As I searched for inspiration, a short statement by Dr. King caught my eye and stirred my heart. Here's my reflection on Dr. King's call, as well as our own, from the <a href="https://www.globalsistersreport.org/news/social-justice/column/remembering-dr-king-requires-us-remember-were-called" target="_blank">Global Sisters Report</a>.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>---</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Every Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I am bombarded by quotes
from the late civil rights icon. On that day, I can't scroll farther than a few
posts on social media without encountering the warm sepia tones of photographs
showing Dr. King in the middle of an impassioned speech, looking out over a sea
of people on the Washington Mall, or linked arm-in-arm with public, civil and religious
figures marching in protest for justice.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Every year I am amazed by the pieces of speeches and
writings that organizations and individuals share to commemorate Dr. King's
life and legacy. There are those that are to be expected — sanitized snippets
of King's "I Have a Dream" speech, variations of love lifted up over
the burdensome weight of hate, and the moral arc of the universe bending toward
justice. These are quotes that make me feel good, that warm the heart and stir
the soul in comforting challenge.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Then there are the deeper cuts, the more unexpected or
unfamiliar offerings. There was the labor union that pointed that Dr. King, who
was assassinated in Memphis, went to the city specifically to help sanitation
workers on strike. There were quotes from King's 1967 "The Other
America" speech pointing out the racial disparities in the United States,
the racism at the root of poverty and economic injustice, and the struggle
faced by people of color then and now.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This is the side of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. that is
perhaps easier to forget or harder to sum up in simple phrases. These quotes
and facts confront popular, rose-colored remembrances of Dr. King and give
living color to the nonviolent, Gospel-based pleas (and actions) for justice
for which he lived and, ultimately, died.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Reflecting this past week on that disturbing reality, I came
across a quote from Dr. King that I had never before encountered. "My call
to the ministry was neither dramatic nor spectacular," the brief statement
written in 1959 for an American Baptist Convention pamphlet begins. What
follows is witness to and reminder of how one's call is cultivated and what the
challenge of ministry truly entails.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Befitting the brevity of a leaflet, King's "My Call to
the Ministry" is all of 11 sentences and yet in that space, King speaks
volumes. His call, like many of ours, was not miraculous. He did not encounter
"some blinding light" or have "some miraculous vision." It
wasn't sudden, spectacular, or even dramatic. It was, as he writes, "a
response to an inner urge that gradually came upon me." This urge, at its
core, was "a desire to serve God and humanity." Beyond any mystical
experience or prophetic consecration, Dr. King — like any and all believers —
experienced the baptismal call to service.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As remarkably unremarkable as it would seem, this was a call
that, in King's response, would echo throughout the generations to come.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This call to serve God and others was an urge that wouldn't
leave him. It remained as an undying demand on his being, an urge that offered
an invitation both of challenge and pilgrimage. That invitation is what lies at
the heart of each of our calls to discipleship. We are called to the gradual
engagement and witness to God's grace … to the pilgrimage of life. Walking the
Way, we discover that some steps are more challenging than others; some
realizations and truths demand deeper engagement than we might be comfortable
with. These challenges may be to our own views of the world, our own egos, or
to the culture that surrounds us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">For King, "the feeling that my talent and my commitment
could best be expressed through the ministry" was what prompted the full
investment of his being. Committed to faith, he couldn't help but call forth
justice. Thus, what organically emerged in the urges of his soul resulted in
the prophetic responsibility to cry for God's transformative justice in this
land of the free and the home of the brave.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">With such courage of conviction, Martin Luther King Jr.
followed the urging of the Spirit into ministry and the pages of history. His
clarion call for justice and equity is still ringing out if we unclog the ears
of our hearts to hear it. It is in the impassioned speeches made for voting
rights in and outside of the halls of government. It is in the questions we
raise about just wages, safe working conditions, and adequate and equitable
housing for all. It is in the commitment we make to create in our church
synodal space so that all people's voices are heard and all people are treated
as the beloved children of God that they are.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Our call then today is to be attentive to the action the
Gospel calls forth in our world and ourselves. We have been called, not by some
miracle or accident, but by the grace of God. That call requires action not
just remembrance. Just as Dr. King answered the call in his own way and time,
now is our moment to respond in-kind, to remember the fervor of our call and to
embody the Gospel message in our very lives.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<span style="font-family: georgia;">Thus, God's urge for justice comes alive in us and among us and our action gives life to our remembrance. Revealing that the call we answer is a continual act, not just a singular day of the year. For, in the words of Dr. King, "If we do not act, we shall surely be dragged down the long, dark, and shameful corridors of time reserved for those who possess power without compassion, might without morality, and strength without sight." In brief, we have been called. Let us rise to the occasion of that call.</span>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-108151334403837602021-12-17T11:11:00.004-05:002023-10-13T22:42:57.979-04:00How to be a Supporting Character this Christmas<p style="text-align: center;"><i>In these Advent days, as we anticipate the coming joy of Christmas, I have been reflecting on the characters in the Christmas story who stand on the margins. Their story is intertwined with Christ's coming and their way of being has something to teach us about our own role in life and connection to Jesus's coming into this world. Join me in reflecting in my latest column for <a href="https://www.globalsistersreport.org/news/spirituality/column/becoming-supporting-character-christmas" target="_blank">Global Sisters Report</a>. Wishing you all blessings and grace in this holy season; may we each embrace the Light and find what it can illumine in our lives and our world.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>--</i></p><p>For weeks, I have been waiting on a set of Christmas cards
to arrive at my local card shop. They're not covered in glittering trees and
they don't feature the holy family. No, there's no sign of Christmas on them at
all... unless you know what you're looking at. Each card has a few simple
shepherds gathered in a field, above them a star shines and around them sheep
graze. Little lines of gold provide a flourish and lead the eye toward a town
in the distance.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Fittingly, the cards have taken their time arriving, much
like many things this year. And as I anxiously await their arrival, these
shepherds have reminded me that we each have a part to play in the Christmas
story.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Advent is a season of waiting and of anticipation. We hear
John the Baptist signal what is to come and hear stories of dreams and visions
that anticipate the future. In the midst of all of this, I find myself waiting
on Christmas cards and wondering about the stories these ancillary characters
have to tell us.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>What would the Christmas story look like through their
eyes? How would shepherds recount what they found? How did Joseph make sense of
his long journey? What were the wise men thinking as they traveled to and from
Bethlehem?<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As the old saying goes, we are all the stars of our own
story. Everything that happens, in our point of view, revolves around us. The
people we know, the relationships we build, the troubles we face, the tales we
tell — they all, in one way or another, revolve around us.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This is how we make sense of our lives. We relate
interpersonally and intrapersonally and at the center of each of those ways of
relating is our very self. More often than not, we are the hero of the tales we
tell. Even when we aren't, when we admit wrongdoing or are the butt of the
joke, the story still revolves around us. This is why it can feel so revelatory
when we see things from someone else's perspective, when we realize that their
reaction has nothing to do with us or worse, that their reaction has everything
to do with us, but not a part of ourselves that we readily recognize.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In that vulnerable position, when we are shaken from the
center of the universe — with the world revolving around us — we recognize that
there's more to the story than we can see. We recognize that, in other people's
lives, we are the supporting players in a cast of characters; we've been cast
in a role we never auditioned for.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This realization brings with it a certain mix of liberty and
humility. Whatever part we're playing, we can't really control how it's
received. It's also a reminder that even while our story is unfolding, we're a
part of a thousand other narratives around us. Perhaps the best way forward
then, is to be the best version of ourselves we can be.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The same might be said of the Christmas story.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The main character in that story is God, precisely in the
person of Jesus Christ. The story we tell about Christmas revolves around
Christ's birth, the joining of heaven and earth, as God became one with us in a
very real way. There in Bethlehem amid the hubbub of the census, a baby was
born. That birth changed the world and in the story of it, we stand in awe,
recognizing our place and relationship to it all.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We may not be shepherds or innkeepers or expectant parents
or people who turn to the stars for guidance, but we are still there in that
moment, our lives intertwined with theirs. As we reflect on the story of
Christmas and prepare ourselves for Christ's coming in that moment (and so many
other everyday moments of our lives), it's a good reminder that we are not the
main character. We are not the Light. Jesus is. We, rather, reflect the Light
of Christ to the world.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Our call as disciples — as real people living lives of faith
in the real world — is to play our part in the story of Christmas to the best
of our ability. We may not have auditioned for the role that we have, but in
our lived belief, we have surely accepted our part in this play. Like Mary
offering her fiat or the shepherds following the command of the angels, we
witness Christ's coming into the world and are offered the grace of
accompanying that incarnation.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Thinking in such a way is not to make ourselves the center
of the story of Christ's coming but to acknowledge that that coming is integral
to our own story. We are called to be in relationship with this One who became
human. One like us ... and like the shepherds ... and like the wise men. We are
not meant to be messiahs, but we can herald the coming of the reign of God. We
do so in the way we live and the story we tell with our lives.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In so doing, we become supporting characters in the
Christmas story, characters with our own story, a story that can be revelatory
of God's union with humanity if we only let it. Accepting this role is a
liberating and humbling experience, one that embraces the joy of God's love and
works so that that Love is evident in every situation. It may not always be a
glamorous or triumphant call but it is ours, as messy as a manger and as
inspired as a voice crying out in the wilderness.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">S<o:p></o:p>upporting characters rarely get the glory of the whole story. They are not the focus. Yet we, like them, garner something much greater by embracing our part. Like shepherds on a hillside, following the Spirit in the darkness, we stumble into a story much bigger than our own. There, we are called to let go of the drive to be the hero or the illusion that it's all about us and instead discover that the glory of God is coming into being right here in our midst. All we need to do is play a supporting role.</p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-86519305025525959432021-11-22T13:27:00.002-05:002021-11-22T13:27:39.105-05:00Imagine Advent<span style="font-family: georgia;">This Advent I'll be taking part in (and offering my own reflection to) "Imagine Advent," a daily reflection program from the Jesuits of the United States and Canada. Looking at where we can find God in the stories we tell- be it in film, books, poetry, art, or elsewhere- this program promises new insight during this sacred season as we prepare for Immanuel, God with Us. I invite you to join me by signing-up for daily e-mails at <a href="https://www.blogger.com/#">jesuits.org/advent </a></span><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> See below for more information and blessings as we journey together during these Advent days!</span><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU4i2JdxkVJKKqkvfR180lb0rS9BozBXg3fpTyO5DoS1qVEgOBVRtxms3FECzcQ6Q0GbYIo5LdaB2Gd-1HykzSw7EoU-0ZEG5xpWY9yD2TC3DCMlsYVsOmR9xZhASZFGiMDZ8Jzz_ZrOBo/s1200/IG-promo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1200" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU4i2JdxkVJKKqkvfR180lb0rS9BozBXg3fpTyO5DoS1qVEgOBVRtxms3FECzcQ6Q0GbYIo5LdaB2Gd-1HykzSw7EoU-0ZEG5xpWY9yD2TC3DCMlsYVsOmR9xZhASZFGiMDZ8Jzz_ZrOBo/s320/IG-promo.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />From The Jesuits: "Advent is a season of waiting — waiting to encounter our God who enters into the human story through the Incarnation. Through this period of prayerful waiting, we discern how Christ is entering into our own stories in a new way in this moment.</span><div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br />God’s desire to enter into the story of creation is not limited to a stable in Bethlehem more than 2,000 years ago. “God has become personally woven into our humanity,” <a href="https://r20.rs6.net/tn.jsp?f=001YWWHwuOQf8-aDbveJ3IVO11JiLGm8RMGma15yQukgK2-g9-pSnF2bUGD76IJT5ohTujMlePHP9YNh35F6vtZbMZMWhGtDLtboVI6HD34SDljgMNbghzuKRxEvubTRvTPjnOxCx41t6UWO-CSnHwoUYRQ_pG_5HBSs0kpVUSziUmRWBjyXYb_yhSrAHsy5DKnO2FOYvQ-SmfSiD5daj_TCjPAFpPUyGTqRK4tB2Z2o0xuw3m_XFL9XnffpzTKt4g73gOQRFAGNznUiQj83L2Jup2iJCybTRe0h1yDvcBfW3_REf2QbBkgew==&c=mbBEWnalNvy6RH2-_9U7X4dgFa67KkQO1IOXBZluNzj3cq59jkbiwA==&ch=ANS6uQkBdVwWx7Ppuv1IkAOGSNkE6FkpgX_Ykc_lmqGG3g9HYswDmQ==">Pope Francis reminds us,</a> “and so has given us a new way of weaving our stories.” St. Ignatius taught that God is to be found in all things — and God can be found speaking to us in and through countless stories.<br /><br />Join members of the Ignatian family during these next 25 days as they share with you stories through which they encounter God. This Advent, as we wait to welcome Christ anew into our story, let us make a 25-day pilgrimage through multimedia storytelling, encountering God’s Holy Spirit speaking to us in even the most unlikely of places."</span></div></div>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-30737193138425887942021-11-05T16:24:00.002-04:002023-10-13T22:43:36.632-04:00The grace to pray for the grace I need<p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">My latest column for the <a href="https://www.globalsistersreport.org/news/spirituality/column/grace-pray-grace-i-need" target="_blank">Global Sisters Report</a> explores the way we pray and the graces that we pray for. Sometimes what we desire is different than what we need. The dialogue of prayer can bring these distinctions to light and invite us to see the glimmers of grace that God is offering if we are aware and courageous enough to embrace them. Enjoy!</span></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">--</span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Calm your body. For a moment, take a deep breath. Go ahead. I can wait.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sink deep. Deeper than one breath can take you. Deeper still to the place where your shoulders release and your muscles unfurl. Keep breathing with no other intention than to breathe.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Ease down to the bedrock of your being. You'll know when you get there. Close your eyes, if need be, stare into space or reread the above. Maybe some more slow breaths might help before you come to the still space of beginning. When you get there (or even if you can't quite make it) ask yourself: What is the grace I need?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Here. In this moment. As everything else swirls around, what is the grace I would pray for myself? For the world? For this moment?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Hold that grace for the moment, so that it can take hold. Give it space to take up residence, to set up shop and prop open the door. This grace, if given the space, might never leave. Maybe it'll even invite its friends in. How about that?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Sitting in prayer a few weeks ago, my mind raced as I sorted through a conflict the day before. Had I said the right thing? Had I been firm enough? Should I apologize? What was there to apologize about?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Rerunning the situation in my head, my heart raced, revisiting the adrenaline-filled moment. In the end, the voice of one of my first spiritual directors echoed in my ear. Name the grace, I could hear her whispering. Name the grace you need, you want, you're afraid of.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Breathing for a moment, I came to that ground floor of my being, clearing the space of the adrenaline haze and the many voices of fight and flight. What I needed and wanted was peace.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Naming the grace we most desire is at the heart of a fruitful prayer life. Sometimes what we name is perfectly aligned with God's desire; other times what we name might come out sideways or take on a different meaning in the movement of the Spirit. In some moments, we don't exactly know what we want or need and at other times, what we name is not exactly what God knows would serve us better. Yet to intentionally name a grace is to introduce into prayerful dialogue a desire for deeper understanding and resolution in our lives and relationship with God.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The process of naming such an intention in prayer — a desired outcome, if you will — draws us into direct conversation with God. We are planting the seed we hope to cultivate with God and what grows in our time together is a fruit of that intention. Like any good conversation, prayer takes that intention and forms it through mutual engagement. I may want peace, but I need to listen to what God wants for me and how God thinks might be the best way to come to that end.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Here we come to realize that the naming of a grace is not just wishful thinking or projected wish fulfillment. God is not a genie. It is not as if we name a grace and then, it just so happens that when our prayer is complete, the grace has magically come to be. Likewise, in praying for a specific grace, we are not subliminally determining where our prayer will end up.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Prayer of this sort, wrapped up in pretty little packages, should raise suspicions. If anything, the grace of prayer is unwrapping the gift God is offering us through ongoing dialogue. We are sharing with God and, as such, we also need to be prepared to receive whatever grace/gift God offers us in return. What is revealed may be far more complex or gratifying than we ever could have imagined. Thus, prayer becomes a process of growth, discovery and surrender.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">We also need to recognize that maybe the grace we want is deeper than what we are willing or able to name. In that case, part of the invitation of prayer is to listen to what God is trying to illuminate within our lives. The invitation then is to ask God what we need and to discover together what the answer might be.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">For some, not knowing what you want or need in a specific moment can be a scary prospect. If I can't tell God what I need, how can we proceed? Or, better yet, how will I know when I get it? The answer to both these questions is essential and essentially the same: trust.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Like sinking into the silence, we know when we have arrived. We trust the moment and know it when we feel it. The only way to get there though is to trust the One with whom we journey.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">What scares some in this prospect, enlivens others. Not knowing exactly what grace is needed frees us to imagine God's grace in new and different ways. Perhaps a broken relationship or betrayed trust is what I bring to prayer. Unable to clear the cloudiness of anger and hurt, I could settle for cheap grace, or I could ask God what might be best in this moment. The answer — maybe to pray for the peace and success of the other — might surprise me and call me to examine my own motivations and prompt deeper trust in God's will and reliance on God's ways.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">The grace that we name, then, may or may not be the grace we receive. We trust, though, that by entering into prayer with our full being, God will guide us to what we need. If we don't find ourselves where we intended or where we thought we would be, it would be best to talk about that with God, too.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Ultimately, as with any relationship, what matters is our showing up. If we can enter into the place of prayer willing and open to the work of the Spirit, we will discover the grace that longs to come alive in us. Here our work is to pause and let the stillness take hold. This is where we begin, where grace can come rushing in. Let our prayer simply be for the grace to pray for the grace we need.</span></p>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-67453186018821132812021-09-24T13:08:00.000-04:002021-09-24T13:08:30.686-04:00Where Everyone is Neighbor<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>As some of you know, I recently left my ministry at the<a href="http://www.ssjnc.org"> SSJ Neighborhood Center </a>in Camden, New Jersey to pursue graduate studies at the <a href="https://www.bc.edu/bc-web/schools/stm.html" target="_blank">Boston College School of Theology & Ministry</a>. Before my departure, I wrote a piece about the Center in honor of the Year of St. Joseph, which has just been published in the <a href="https://catholicstarherald.org/ssj-center-where-everyone-is-neighbor/">Catholic Star Herald</a>.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>----</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><br /></i></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Even after 120 years of service in Camden, the Sisters of Saint Joseph were the new kids on the block when they arrived in 2017 in the Cramer Hill section of the city. Sent by their congregation, the Sisters of Saint Joseph of Philadelphia, a group of sisters set out to establish a new, sponsored ministry in the city: the Sisters of Saint Joseph Neighborhood Center. <br /><br />“For all our ministry in the city of Camden, we as a congregation decided that to continue our commitment to those who are materially poor and marginalized, it was important we establish a physical place for ministry,” explains Sister Bonnie McMenamin, SSJ, the SSJ Neighborhood Center’s founding director. “As Sisters of Saint Joseph, we are called to love God and to love our neighbors without distinction. That means encountering Jesus in every neighbor we meet and seeking to foster a sense of community in and among the neighbors and neighborhoods we serve.”<br /><br />Over the last four years, that is exactly what the SSJ Neighborhood Center has done. With programming that ranges from a food pantry and prayer groups to English as a Second Language classes and sewing and crocheting lessons, the center is focused on bringing people together to provide opportunities for connection, enrichment and empowerment. Serving primarily adults and families, the center provides a safe space for neighbors to learn and grow together.<br /><br />“This is a place where all are welcome,” Sister Clarisa Vázquez, SSJ, outreach coordinator at the center, says. “Our neighbors come from various cultural backgrounds that wouldn’t normally mix. With a common goal of learning English or a sewing project, they grow together, they help one another and they develop relationships far beyond the classes they share.” <br /><br />This was evident when the coronavirus pandemic shut down the center’s classes in spring 2020. “We moved the classes we could online,” Sister Bonnie recalls. “Our neighbors wanted to be together, even if that meant learning how to do so virtually!” <br /><br />For many, that meant learning how to use a laptop computer. For volunteer teachers, that meant adapting lessons to a digital format. “The pandemic put all of us to the test,” says Sister Colleen Gibson, SSJ, coordinator of services. “Yet, God provided in every instance. Students and teachers adapted and learned together. Demand on our food pantry expanded, but so did the generosity of our neighbors near and far.”<br /><br />The center’s monthly food distribution has grown exponentially since 2017. What began as a pantry that fed 14 families on a monthly distribution day now feeds more than 200 families every third Wednesday of the month. The pantry distributes food provided by the Food Bank of South Jersey as well as donations from parishes, religious education programs, community groups, and individuals from throughout the Camden and Philadelphia areas. <br /><br />“We could never do what we do on our own,” Sister Mary Berryman, SSJ, coordinator of the food pantry, explains. The center is reliant on volunteers to help serve neighbors, teach classes and provide goods for distribution. Beyond the food pantry, donors help provide diapers and baby clothing for families in need, new and used household goods for the center’s “sharing markets,” and financial assistance for those seeking rent and utility assistance.<br /><br />“Our mission is to unite ‘neighbor to neighbor and neighborhood to neighborhood,’” Sister Colleen adds. “We see that come alive when a neighborhood teenager strikes up a conversation with a student volunteering from Camden Catholic High School, or a neighborhood family gives gardening tips to the family from Philadelphia who shares a plot next to them in our community garden.”<br /><br />“Here, everyone is a neighbor,” Sister Bonnie says as she reflects on the center’s roots and mission. “Our love of God draws us into union with all people.”<br /><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">In this Year of Saint Joseph, Sister Bonnie takes solace in the example of Saint Joseph that is lived out at the SSJ Neighborhood Center. “Like Joseph, our service is humble and often hidden. We give ourselves in the service of God’s love. We create a space where no one is turned away, where there is always ‘room at the inn.’”<br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia;">Together with their neighbors, the sisters are helping to create a space where all are welcome. They, after all, know how it feels to be new to a neighborhood and hope they can make room for each neighbor to flourish in the fullness of God’s love in community. </span></div>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2026952940117879215.post-11240081148108092302021-09-24T12:59:00.002-04:002023-10-13T22:44:13.788-04:00To See & Be Seen: Embracing Presence as a Ministry of Learning<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>My latest piece for <a href="https://www.globalsistersreport.org/news/ministry/column/see-and-be-seen-embracing-presence-ministry-learning" target="_blank">Global Sisters Report</a> is a reflection on the depth and complexity of a ministry of presence. This practice lies at the heart of good relational ministry. Doing it well means being present not only to the person in front of us but God at work in our midst. May we each be blessed to see and be seen in our encounters.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>---</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">One of the first lessons of ministry is the importance of
presence. If we are to be engaged with others, to win hearts and souls, and to
find God in it all, we need to be actively present to the people in front of
us. Our job is to hear their stories, offer respite to the weary, make space to
breathe, and provide companionship, if only but for a moment, to those to whom
we minister. In so doing, we walk together, share life and ultimately reveal
love.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Such a prospect seems simple, right? Yet when we probe more
deeply into the practice of ministry of presence, we discover that what seems
to be simple is, in reality, rather complex.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This is a lesson, however, we only learn in living.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">As a college freshman, I thought I knew what ministry of
presence was. That is, I thought I knew until I encountered a call to presence
far more complex that I ever could have imagined.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">A group of classmates and I had been sent to serve the
Tuesday morning meal at a local soup kitchen. We were instructed to be fully
present to the people we met there. "Listen to their stories," our
guide told us, "Give the gift of your presence."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Upon arrival, my friends all garnered jobs on the front
line, distributing a warm meal to those who came in off the streets. Meanwhile,
I found myself relegated to a side room. My only companions were an industrial
dishwasher and a small window that diners could pass their dirty dishes through
for me to clean. Listening to the sounds of the dining room, I waited for
people to finish their breakfast and come into sight.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Soon hands began to poke through the window, but no one
stayed long enough for me to really be present to them. As dishes piled up, I
forgot about the instruction to be present and instead got down to the work at
hand. As I worked my way through the stacks of dishes before me, I noticed
someone standing at the window. The man dressed in a dark blue flannel handed
his coffee cup to me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Thank you," he uttered.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Oh, you're welcome," I replied, turning to put
the cup into the dishwasher rack I'd been filling. Spraying the dishes down, I
turned back to see him still standing there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Thank you," he said, looking intently at me. His
eyes, a rich chestnut color, seemed to peer deep into my soul. "Thank
you," he repeated with a gentle nod of his head.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I nodded my head in return. "Thank you."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">For a few still moments, we silently looked at one another,
before he nodded again and walked back to the busy dining room. Staring at the
now empty window, I wondered what exactly had just happened.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">On the car ride home, my companions shared the stories they
had gathered while serving. Each one of them buzzing with the energy of
encounter. I, meanwhile, sat silently in the back seat. When asked what stories
I had gathered, I sheepishly stammered that I hadn't gathered any. I had seen
and been seen.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The conversation quickly turned to other things, but I
remained in that space, both comfortable and uncomfortable. The look. The nod.
The knowing. All Presence.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">From time to time, that moment returns to me in my memory.
It is a reminder that whatever I think presence might look like, there is
always more to learn.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This realization is itself a lesson. A ministry of presence
makes space for the other, giving them the space to be heard, to be seen, and
to be loved. In that space we discover what unites us and, if we are lucky, we
encounter God in the person in front of us and the act of being present. Our
hope is that it does the same for the other people involved, too.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The temptation of a ministry of presence is to make it about
us. If we aren't careful, it can easily devolve into a self-serving ministry;
we can selfishly serve to enrich ourselves, treating presence as an avenue to
self-congratulations and achievement rather than humility and openness.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Yet to truly be present is to find Divine Presence in the
presence we offer and receive. As such, we recognize that a ministry of
presence is, in fact, a ministry of learning. We learn that we can make space
but can't force grace. We discover that curiosity is best used in the service
of seeking the One who seeks us. And we realize that gratitude is the greatest
response to all that Presence offers us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">If we approach our encounters with others with these
grounding values — humility, openness, curiosity and gratitude — we create a
space where no matter what happens we have the potential to receive it, to be
taught by it, to expand our vision, and to grow in the process.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This, of course, requires us to let go of set outcomes,
expectations and desires. When we meet disappointment or frustration in our encounters,
it would do us well to honestly ask if we were holding too tightly to one of
these factors, limiting our freedom and constricting our ability to truly be
present.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Practicing such presence is a lifelong process. While we
might become better at offering a ministry of presence, it is a ministry
constantly developing, showing us new facets of the Divine and ourselves in
relationship. Called to be students of life, we have the opportunity to learn
and to grow in moments of presence expected and unexpected. In those moments,
no lesson is too big, no encounter too small. For this, we should be grateful.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<span style="font-family: georgia;">Years later, I still recall that moment standing face-to-face with the man with the chestnut eyes at the soup kitchen. That encounter surely wasn't what I expected my ministry of presence to look like that day. So often that is the case. We are surprised. God works wonders. Our call is to recognize those wonders and embrace them. And sometimes embracing them looks just like a look, a nod and a thank you.</span>Colleen Gibsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08098974106157065338noreply@blogger.com0