Inspired by Scholastica

Christmas at our monastery is usually very peaceful and quiet.  This year, the holiday was quite different.  During the morning liturgy, a water pipe broke in the first floor ceiling, and water poured down the hall in sheets. Almost immediately, there were firemen, police, EMTs, employees, and sisters on the scene, pushing water out the doors in freezing temperatures. They kept the water from getting to the main hall, and used vacuums and fans to get rid of the moisture in the carpets and walls.  In spite of all this commotion, Christmas dinner was prepared and served, thanks to our super employees and some generous donors. It was an incredible group effort, and no one complained if the meal was not hot or something was missing. We were all just grateful to have so many generous people step up and provide help.  The nursing and kitchen staff were able to do their jobs, in spite of soaked shoes and wet clothes. They were truly remarkable! They had gotten a Christmas bonus a few days bef

The Jewish people of old waited several thousand years for the coming of Jesus. They knew the ancient prophecies about Jesus being born of a virgin, but they could not fathom how or when. So, they waited and prayed that they might live to see this long-anticipated Savior. During the season of Advent we, too, wait for the Savior to come. It is only four weeks, but it is hard to focus on Jesus’ birth and the mystery that it holds amid the hustle and bustle of the Christmas season.  We wait in wonder and expectation as the liturgies and readings of Advent remind us of the birth in Bethlehem. The historical Jesus came on earth over two thousand years ago, born in the poverty of a stable and adored by poor shepherds. In our day, we pray for the coming of Jesus more fully into our lives. For that coming to happen requires preparation and a conversion of heart. We need time to focus on how to let Jesus guide our ways and show us how to be Christ for others today. That occurs not by giving exp

As the days grow shorter and darkness envelops us for longer periods, the gloom sometimes invades our attitudes. Most of us need light to lift our spirits. During this Advent time, where can we find light to keep us going? Certainly there are many lights in the Christmas trees and shopping malls that spring up early all around us. But, that flashy kind of light is not what we need as winter closes in. We are looking for lights of serenity and peace to fill these dark days.   One custom that can be uplifting is the Advent wreath, with its four candles to mark the four weeks before Christmas. As we light the candles and prepare for Christ’s coming again into our world, we are reminded of how God’s love and the love of family and friends warms our spirits. Even those who are no longer with us can comfort us with memories of their goodness. Another custom in some families is making homemade gifts of cookies and sweet breads. Some also make knitted scarves and sweaters. Even if we are

When Sister Thea Bowman, a Black sister, addressed the United States Catholic bishops in 1989, she began by singing several lines from an African-American spiritual: “Sometimes I feel like a motherless child/A long way from home.” She told the bishops that, as a Black woman and a Catholic, she brought her whole history, her traditions, her culture, her African-American experience, her whole being as a gift to the church. Her spirituality was “contemplative and biblical and holistic,” a spirituality . . . “that steps out in faith, that leans on the Lord, a spirituality that is communal.” Although she must have felt like her vision and contribution were not valued by the Church, she gave her gifts generously and wholeheartedly. The bishops listened and were charmed by her enthusiasm. At the end, she had them singing and swaying with African-American music. It must have been quite a sight to see these bishops, with their croziers and crimson-trimmed robes, clapping and singing along with

  When I was growing up, I never heard anyone talk about climate change. My mother never wasted water or food, and we reused paper bags, newspapers and just about everything. But, it was based on frugality, rather than awareness of the fragility of the earth’s resources. When I became aware of the global crisis and what it means for the future of our planet, I started to recycle everything and be more concerned about the future of our environment. So, I was very interested in the recent COP27 meeting in Egypt, where over 100 nations gathered to make decisions regarding the urgency of taking action globally. Although they did not make much progress on greenhouse gas pollution solutions, they did agree to a proposal to provide private money to poorer countries to develop clean energy action plans. This is certainly progress. Wealthier nations agreed to provide private funds to developing countries that have been devastated by flooding, aridity, pollution, and other destructive condit

Medical personnel tell us Covid is not over and could come back. We pray that all will be safe in the months ahead.  As I look back over two years of the pandemic, I am grateful. In our monastery, we had a few sisters who were infected with the virus, but they escaped serious symptoms. They were isolated right away, so as not to spread the disease. I'm sure it was not easy for them, but they understood the importance of keeping the virus under control. The rest of us carried on, wearing masks when required. We were restricted from going out to eat or shop or travel when the Covid count was high in town, but that was not too often.  We were spared deaths that other groups experienced. Older people were most affected, but our sisters seemed to be of very sturdy stock. We all got the first and second shots and booster shots, which I'm sure was a great deterrent to the disease.  Those teaching in schools had a much harder time. Many schools switched to virtual classes for long peri

I came across a book about Thomas Merton's way of prayer the other day.  Editor Kathleen Deignan shows how Merton made contemplative prayer accessible to the ordinary person by revealing how to use the different hours of the day to become quiet, to become conscious of God's presence, and to pray with an abandon to the Spirit within. The small book, called A Book of Hours , is divided into the four times of the day-- dawn, midday, dusk and night, with psalms, readings, prayers, intercessions and periods of silence. Deignan has gleaned the best of Merton's writings to appeal to the ordinary Christian. The book reads like poetry and allows for the reader's own reflections and thoughts. It often feels as if Merton is directly talking to us like a spiritual director. One example of the book's poetry is this collect: I send Love's name into the world with wings And songs grow up around me like a jungle. Choirs of all creatures send the tunes your spirit played in Eden

I just read a story that gave me a whole perspective on perseverance. It told of a mountain climbing experience that seems almost unbelievable. An expedition of glacier experts set out to try to find a camera bag left behind 85 years ago by Bradford Washburn, a world famous scientist and photographer, who had to abandon it when his life was endangered on the mountain. He has since died, but a group of experienced explorers decided to see if they could find it using new scientific methods to trace movements of glaciers.  The members of the expedition knew the camera had valuable photographs that would aid in this highly exclusive science. Dora Medezyka, a glacier specialist who knew how to trace the movement of glaciers, had pinpointed the area where Washburn had left the bag. At first, they were disappointed and were ready to leave, but Medezyka searched her data once more and was able to locate the bag frozen under thick ice. Miraculously, the contents were still usable. Most of us wo

Autumn is a time to contemplate nature. The brilliant hues of trees are especially enthralling. There are a number of trees on our campus that make me catch my breath in awe. I know trees are more glorious in Vermont or New Hampshire, but Kansas has its own special loveliness. One maple tree behind St. Cecilia's is always so majestic, shining in the sunlight. I look forward to seeing it every year. It makes me feel the all-embracing warmth of  God's love. I can imagine God's paintbrush adding a touch of gold here, some orange there, a tinge of scarlet in between. The Great Artist makes trees come to full stature and glory. Every season has its beauty, but autumn seems to be especially enticing. Spending time with nature often inspires prayer. Who but God could decorate our world with such magnificence?   Of course, there is a time for splendor and a time for leaves to dry up and fall, just as there is a time for us to shine and a time for us to let go of our life on earth.

“I find ecstasy in living. Living is enough for me.”   - Emily Dickinson   We generally think of the poet Emily Dickinson as a recluse, a woman who did not socialize with others. Yet the quote above seems to indicate that she lived a vibrant life. To find ecstasy in living is quite a remarkable statement. To find wonder and joy in life one has to really be aware, to be ebullient. She once wrote that she felt like she was “struck by lightning every day.” Many of us go about like dead people walking. We fail to really see the world around us, to hear the sounds of leaves, of bees sucking sweetness from flowers, of birds twittering in trees. We are rarely jarred by the surprises in our paths, of the uniqueness of the people around us. Although Emily rarely left her house, her images are vibrant with life. Dickinson considered herself a poet of liberty and “the voice of America.” Born in 1830, she was anti-slavery and an advocate of freedom for women. Although she lived during the period o

When  I was growing up, I heard about seeking God, searching for him, desiring him, praying that he would reveal himself to me. I often felt that I was groping in the darkness for some sign that he was really present.  St. Paul assures us: "You must know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is within -- the Spirit you have received from God." (1 Cor. 19)  If God is within us, we need look no further. Pope Francis, in a recent Apostolic Letter, reminds us, "Before our response to his invitation --well before! -- there is his desire for us."  So long before we searched for God, he was seeking each one of us. He doesn't care if we are losers, criminals, uneducated, depressed, lame, sick, elderly, gay, Black or white - he wants to be with us. Remember the story of Zacchaeus, the tax collector, who climbed a tree in order to see Jesus passing by in a huge crowd? It was Jesus who saw him in the tree and told him to come down, so they could share a meal t

Cool crisp air fills my nostrils mixed with the scent of grape vines and sunflowers, a hint of yellow in the trees. Nothing remains the same as fall creeps in.   People too look more jaunty as they step into cooler places enveloped in a bit of sunshine.   There’s a calmness in the air this early October morning, an expectant hush among faded petals and tawny-tinged grass.   This is just the beginning, we know, there’s always something new to surprise us as seasons change.   Don’t miss the crunchiness, smells, and tapestry as summer fades into a wondrous splash of color.    

For those of us dealing with aging, we need to ask ourselves if we like the person we have come to be. If not, we might want to make some late life changes. Have we become cranky? Maybe we need to find ways to be more even-tempered and peaceful. Have we become selfish? Maybe we need to work on being more generous and thoughtful. Are we self-centered? Perhaps we ought to work on being more other-centered.  This aging business makes us more transparent. We see our faults more clearly and may realize we don't like some of our weaknesses. In the past, we could gloss over our deficiencies because we were busy with our careers and families and hobbies. Now, we are limited in the things we can do, and some of our loved ones may have died, so we have more time for some introspection. We don't want to be full of regret and self-condemnation, but knowing we will soon meet our God makes us want to be a better person. We realize there is much room for improvement, and we have only a short

We generally think of the 12 apostles as Jesus’ regular followers, but there were also women. We know of Mary Magdalen, Martha, Mary Salome, the Samaritan woman, the woman cured of a hemorrhage, and the Canaanite woman. I’m sure there were more women in their company, who were never counted. Who else would prepare the meals for the Twelve? Who else would help keep the children quiet? Who else would wash the dishes? Women were not considered equal or important in that period of Jewish history. We know that when Jesus worked the miracle of the loaves and fishes, the crowd was estimated at 5,000, not counting women and children. Yet, Jesus was always present to women and acknowledged them. It is evident in many of the stories in the New Testament. One example is the woman with the hemorrhage who merely touched the hem of his garment. He did not ignore her, but asked who touched him? He also cured the daughter of the centurion, the mother-in-law of Peter, the Samaritan woman, and Mary Magd

Our novice director used to tell her novices over and over:  “live with an open hand.” She would say we are called to love, but our love must not cling too tightly to people, possessions, or life itself. We must have a stance of openness, aware that “nothing is ours for keeps, that all is gift and that the love we give and receive here on earth is but a reflection of God’s love.” That sounds good, but difficult to carry out in the ups and downs of life.   When we love someone, we often want it to be forever and total.   We have to learn to share our loved ones and not grasp them for ourselves alone.   We also must learn to be openhanded with our possessions, to give of them freely.  E ven life should not be clung to. If we receive a diagnosis of some fatal illness, we must try to see it as gift, as a wake-up call to get our lives in order. To live with an open hand takes a lifetime to learn, and we will never do it perfectly. We admire people who can live that way, for they are on

Sometimes, when everything seems chaotic and the world is full of bad news, it is hard to find joy.  Everywhere we look - in the newspapers, on TV, and in the streets - the news is depressing. Recently a new app appeared on my iPad called "Nice News," which reports only good things happening around the world, like someone risking his life to save a person or someone using his wealth to help children get an education. I'm sure there are good things happening that are not reported, like the families that are taking in Ukrainian refugees and giving them a safe place during the war in Ukraine, or the reporters who risk their lives to make sure we hear the truth about crisis situations, or the astronomers who are discovering such exciting things about galaxies and stars that we never knew existed.  We need to focus on these happenings instead of the truth-deniers, gun violence, blatant liars, and cruel treatment about whom we see and read. Recognizing the courageous people aro

In recent days, I've been thinking about all the ways God blesses us with forgiveness. I write to a man in prison who was part of a murder when he was young and is serving a life sentence. His letters always begin with giving thanks for this God-given day. Although he could be bitter for that mistake that cost him his freedom, he focuses on gratitude to God for each new day. When I read of Archbishop Rembert Weakland’s death, I remembered how much I admired him for his contributions to the Catholic Church, especially how he implemented Vatican II back in the 70s and 80s. Later, when it was revealed that he was part of the cover-up of child abuse by priests in his diocese, I was shocked. I had put him on a pedestal and he had fallen. Then I began thinking about the fact that we are all flawed, we all have some things in our past that we are not proud of, perhaps ashamed of. Good people make mistakes, but this does not define them. Humans struggle with their choices and have regrets,

"I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing." (John 10:27) This is not what firefighters want to see. Forest fires and other devastating fires have done more than enough destruction in our world. But, that's not the kind of fire Jesus is talking about in this passage from John's Gospel. Instead, he wants us to be fire-bearers, to carry the flame that Jesus ignited on earth and to keep it burning. It is his Spirit that started the fire, and we preserve it by uniting with a community of disciples to keep it ablaze.  We have to have "fire in our bellies" to fan the flames into burning brilliance. That means to lift our flagging spirits and numbed bodies and spread the light of Christ to our world. One flame is bright, but thousands of flames make a formidable fire. Communities on fire can transform our darkened world into a brightness not quenched by hate, war, vengeance, or lies. By sharing our love, service, and kindness with

God stoops down to embrace our humanness, our fragile, ungainly bulges and sinews, limping, stumbling along, holding our aches and pains that cry out for relief, yearnings imbedded deep within our hearts, even the sins festering in our souls. He bends low to scoop us up into his arms like a mother cherishing her infant babe, feeding us with the milk of mercy, cuddling us with tenderness and unconditional love. God breathes new life into us when we falter never abandons us in our weakness. God takes on our flesh, becomes one with us in all the sweat and tears of life, the loneliness, weariness, rejection, doubts, failures, and humiliations. Was there ever a god as humble as our God?

Not to look back with regret, nursing the slights, pondering what ifs, wallowing in the failures, nor to look forward with dread, projecting the worst to happen.  Just to be present to the now with all its undefined borders, its humdrum activities, its ordinary scraps of conversation that make up most of our lives. It is enough to be aware of the tidbits that fill our days, an insight, a song, a quote, a kindness, a smile, a sinking sun – precious things we take for granted yet worth the trouble to notice, to delight in, to be grateful for.

Apocryphal stories about Mary Magdalene depict her as a penitent prostitute or a woman with seven devils. There is no validity for this in Scripture. She was always one of the women disciples who accompanied Jesus and stayed with him at the crucifixion. After his death, she came to the empty tomb to anoint the body and, instead, encountered Jesus in the garden. She was then commissioned to tell the apostles the good news of Jesus being alive. Of course, the apostles did not believe she had seen the Lord and had to see for themselves. They probably thought Jesus would appear to Peter or John first. They had their eyes opened. Not until recently did the Catholic Church acknowledge Mary Magdalene's importance. St. Thomas Aquinas named her the "apostle to the apostles." A few years ago, Pope Francis elevated her memorial to a feast, like the other apostles. Hers is a familiar story of women not being believed or considered important. Throughout much of history, women have bee

The new James Webb Space Telescope, which reveals the depths of space back to the beginning of time, made exciting news this week. The little square on our screen with thousands of colored pinpricks represents a minuscule section of space with myriads of galaxies, stars, and dark holes that are light years away. The ordinary person finds this hard to grasp, but astronomers and astrophysicists are thrilled at  how much more they will be able to learn about the universe with this high-powered telescope.  I am sure the prophets and psalmists, who proclaimed the wonders of creation perceived only with the human eye, had no idea what more there was to see. Yet, they knew God had created a magnificent universe and they praised God for all that he had made. They would have run out of words had they really beheld the mysteries beyond the wonders they saw. And how do we react to these magnificent revelations? Certainly most of us are awestruck, amazed, flabbergasted. The mystery of the universe

Recently, I was reading about waking up to gratitude - gratitude for being alive, for being healthy, for having a comfortable bed, for having air conditioning, for having a shower with hot and cold water. I thought of how many people in the world have none of these things. Most of us just take them for granted, but we need to consciously give thanks. As I begin each day, I find so many more things to be grateful for: freshly brewed coffee, orange juice, fresh bread, and a choice of fruit. Then, I look outside, and I rejoice in the trees and multi-colored flowers, the squirrels and birds, the bees pollinating the flowers, the sun brightening my world. Awareness fills my soul with gratitude. As I open my eyes wider, I rejoice in family and friends, for TV, computers, dishwashers, and phones and electricity to make them work. I pick up a book I'm reading and am glad for writers and poets who lift my spirits. I see children playing in the yard and smile at their clever antics and energ

When I was growing up, our family never read the bible or prayed with Scripture. In school we had Bible History classes and sometimes dramatized the stories, but it seemed play-like. Even my early days in the monastery we did not study the bible, except for the psalms which we prayed every day. Of course, we had the daily Mass readings, and the celebrant sometimes spoke about their meaning in his homily. During our retreat this year, the director used Scripture in a way that was very different. She showed how stories from the bible could speak to us here and now. She was so familiar with Scripture, so deeply attuned to its messages that her talks resonated with our daily lives. I was reminded of Richard Rohr saying, "We must approach the Scriptures with humility and patience, with our own agenda out of the way, and allow the Spirit to stir the deeper meaning for us." I began journaling about the retreat talks and even wrote a couple poems. The more I reflected, the more I was

A colloquium on "Benedictine Life: A Vision Unfolding" was held at our monastery in Atchison, Kansas, this week. About 300 people from around the U.S. and several other countries attended via Zoom. Six speakers gave presentations on the history and future of Benedictine life. They issued challenges and spoke of new frontiers for Benedictines and those who draw strength from their 1500 year-old Rule.    One speaker, Debbie Asberry, talked on being a "witnessing presence," and used Dorothy Day, bell hooks, and Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelenskyy as examples. Their lives of strength, integrity, and boldness show how we are called to live in our world. She spoke of Day's willingness to live the Gospel in a way that went beyond the ordinary Christian. She showed how bell hooks, as a Black woman, spoke and wrote about racism, sexism, and feminism. She portrayed Zelenskyy as a man of courage and integrity in the face of Russia's unjust aggression.  Being a &quo

“Let your heart crumble into an infinite amount of tiny, precious seeds. Then plant love everywhere you go.“                                                                            - Anita Krizzan I discovered this quote recently and was struck by its message. I don’t know anything about Anita Krizzan, but she certainly conveys Jesus’ message in a very striking way.   How does one let her heart crumble into tiny seeds? I think, every time your heart is broken, it crumbles into tiny seeds. Every time you are attacked, abused, rejected, alienated, it crumbles into more seeds. Every time you lose someone you love or are separated from your loved ones, your heart crumbles a little more. Eventually your heart becomes tenderized, stretched and expanded. You become empathetic and attuned to people in need everywhere you go. If planting love becomes a way of life, you are truly blessed.   As this spreads to others, our world becomes more beautiful. Just think, we could have a pandemi

In these past weeks with mass shootings in Buffalo, Uvalde, and Tulsa, I have been devastated, along with many other Americans. Finding hope has been challenging for many of us. The National Rifle Association and others continue to promote firearms as being necessary for survival and recreation.  This, while other countries have outlawed assault rifles and other guns. They rarely have mass slaughters in any of these places.  On June 5, Christians celebrated Pentecost -- the coming of the Holy Spirit. We know the Spirit continues to renew the earth with the gifts of faith, hope, charity and more. When we see children playing and laughing in the park, we cannot help but smile. When we see the sun breaking through the clouds, it lifts our spirits. When we see a son or daughter or other relative succeed in school, we feel God shining his love on us. We feel blessed, we feel hopeful.  The Holy Spirit gives us the courage to go on after the dark, cruel times of killings and murders. This is

Every day / I see or hear/ something/ that more or less/kills me/with delight. ( Mary Oliver) Mary Oliver is one of my favorite poets. She makes ordinary things come alive and brings a spiritual dimension to nature. She has only to take a walk in the woods and she sees a grasshopper or a bee or a flower and is transported into ecstasy. Her poems are very accessible, no elaborate words or elongated terminology. Her poetry is meditative and calming, often like a prayer. Even people who think they don’t like poetry, like Mary Oliver. One reviewer wrote, “Mary Oliver’s poetry is an excellent antidote for the excesses of civilization…she is a poet of wisdom and generosity whose vision allows us to look intimately at a world not of our making.”   This 20th century poet has received many honors for her poetry including the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize for poetry. Although Mary Oliver died last year, she left behind a treasury of poetry to nourish and delight her readers. O

The extremely high temperatures in India and Pakistan recently are a foretaste of what may happen in other parts of the world. They were having 120-130 degree temperatures with little relief in sight. These places depend on good weather to raise the crops they need for survival. This is only one sign of climate change. There are many others such as melting glaciers that endanger animals who live in the far north. Coastal erosion which can wash away land near shore line. Oceans which are losing fish and other life due to waste products thrown into the water.  Coal mines that  emit poisonous gases that pollute the air. Cattle that cause more pollution through their poop? Automobiles that give off fumes that also pollute the air.  

I had never heard of the Replacement Theory until last week when an 18-year-old killed 10, mostly Black people, at a supermarket  in Buffalo, New York. This teenager evidently was motivated by the white supremacist theory that Blacks and other races are replacing whites in our society. Those who believe this theory are afraid that whites will no longer be able to control the laws and the economy of this country.  Now this individual - from Conklin, New York - may have mental or psychological problems, but how did he get an assault rifle? How come no one picked up clues about his intent? The evidence shows he had been plotting this action for months.   My heart grieves for the families who lost loved ones. They leave a hole which cannot be filled. And these shootings cause anger and fear among all their neighbors and friends. The whole country should be so outraged that they would change our gun laws. But, of course, we had Columbine, Sandy Hook, Orlando, and similar mass shootings and

“God is always given, incarnate in every moment and present to those who know how to be present themselves. It is that simple and that difficult.” Richard Rohr The Benedictine motto is, “Seek God.” Yet, if God is always given, we do not need to seek. It’s we who have to learn to be present.   God is always reaching out to us but, most of the time, we seem to have other things on our minds. Even when we are at prayer, we are often thinking about what we have to do later. God is present in every moment, loving us and caring about each of us, as if we are the only person in the world. That’s what the great teachers tell us. It’s we who have to be open and learn to see God in all the events of our lives.   It is we who have to learn to find God in whatever happens. It’s easy to do this when good things happen. But, what about the hard things? We might think God is not there, but he is.   He is loving us in the cancer diagnosis, in the car accident, in the unexpected deaths of family

"I love you Lord, my strength, Lord, my rock, my fortress, my deliverer."  Ps. 18:2 Psalm 18 contains many names for God. For example: rock, fortress, deliverer, shield, saving horn, stronghold.  It is reassuring to think of God with these names, especially if we are experiencing some hardship or threat. God, our protector, provides us with courage in times of trouble.  Joyce Rupp encourages us to use fresh images for God based on our relationship with the Divine. If we see God as our companion, we might address him as soul-friend. If we think of God as our refuge, we might call him our safe-haven. If we look on God as our sustenance, we could think of him as our life-giver.   Whatever emotion we are feeling, God is with us. He wants us to call on him in times of trouble, as well as times of joy. He desires to be our beloved companion when we are lonely, our safe sanctuary when we are fearful.  He accompanies us in the deserts of our lives, to provide refreshment. He is with

I recently picked up a book entitled The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson. It tells the epic story of America's great migration from the first half of the 20th century. It was history I never learned in school, mostly because I was living through part of it. It had not yet been written and I did not live in the South to see it.  Today, it might be on the list of forbidden books for some schools and libraries, since it tells the moving story of the period of slavery in the U.S. through the lives of some actual Black Americans growing up in the South. It takes you to the cotton fields of Mississippi, describes the Jim Crow laws, the Whites only signs, the segregated schools, sharecropping, and more. I had heard of some of it, but the reality never struck me so vividly.  Students today need to be exposed to this dark period of our history, to understand how our Black brothers and sisters were treated in the South and why they might still have the residue of hatred and injusti

It cannot be denied that some of us are wounded in some way. It may be from the kind of home we grew up in, from treatment in school, from neighborhood experiences, or other issues. We may have tried to heal these wounds through therapy or counseling or through the love of friends or spouses. We may try to hide our scars, but that's hard to do when they are still festering. Sometimes we try to forget and put on a happy face, but those who know us well can usually see through that.  We need to find ways to heal, but we also can use our woundedness to comfort others. Wounds can make us very compassionate people who are able to understand others that are hurting. So many people need someone just to listen, to reassure those who are lonely or feel like no one cares. Because we have been in a similar place, we can reach out with words or actions that aided us.  Often wounded people feel like they are unable to help others because they themselves are scarred. Yet it is that very reason t

  Jesus, what did you see on that ominous Friday when all your friends disappeared, except a handful of women? As your nerves throbbed, your muscles wrenched, your stomach contorted, did you see sneers, hatred, disdain? How were you able to forgive the soldiers who pressed a crown of thorns on your head, drove the nails into your hands and feet, who spat upon you, jeered and ridiculed you? Did you feel like you had failed, that all your words were in vain, all your love for naught? Did you think maybe you should have done something differently, been more patient, had more time, never chosen Judas?   Sometimes I forget your humanness, how alone and anguished, grieved at your mother’s suffering, dying like a common criminal, feeling forsaken even by your Father.   What would I have done had I been there? Would I have run too, or remained steadfast? Lord, give me courage to be true to you as you pour out your love for me.