News from Sophia Christi

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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