//Cardinal Lovers//
It’s Okay to Cry
Minute Meditation – Hope Blossoms in Mercy
“So many people ask to be listened to and to be understood. The Gospel of mercy requires generous and joyful servants, people who love freely without expecting anything in return. ‘Peace be with you!’ (John 20:21) is the greeting of Jesus to his disciples; this same peace awaits men and women of our own day.… It is a peace that does not divide but unites; it is a peace that does not abandon us but makes us feel listened to and loved; it is a peace that persists even in pain and enables hope to blossom. This peace, as on the day of Easter, is born ever anew by the forgiveness of God which calms our anxious hearts.” —Pope Francis
The story of Thomas in the Upper Room is a clear example of Jesus meeting us in those wounded places in our lives and wordlessly offering us whatever we need to move beyond the hurt into a place of healing, trust, and peace. He doesn’t scold Thomas for needing proof; he doesn’t condemn him for a lack of faith. He holds out his hands and gives Thomas what he needs. We each have our own struggles with faith, with trust, with love, whether in our relationships with others, our connection to a church community, our responsibilities at home, at work, in school. As we place our needs before God’s loving mercy, we open ourselves to receive whatever gesture of peace he offers us. Mercy is the sign of God’s ongoing presence in the world. Few people have made this more clear and compelling than Pope Francis. And it’s not just about realizing that God is merciful to us. It’s realizing that we are now called, compelled, even commanded to be merciful to all those people we meet.
In his preaching on mercy, Pope Francis often emphasizes the importance of listening compassionately to people who are wounded, struggling, searching for God’s love. So often we want to rush in to fix other people’s lives. The next time you feel this urge, take a step back and first simply listen to and love the person before you. God’s peace passes all our human understanding. And often it lies beyond our limited human words.
— from the book The Hope of Lent: Daily Reflections from Pope Francis,
by Diane M. Houdek
//Franciscan Media//
Minute Meditation – No Fear of Joy
“We need to overcome the fear of joy; we need to think of the many times that we are not joyful because we are afraid. In my homeland there is a saying that goes like this: when someone gets burned by boiling milk, he cries when he sees the cow. The disciples, who were burned by the drama of the cross, said: no, let’s stop here! He is in heaven, that’s excellent, he is risen, but may he not come back again because we can’t handle it!” —Pope Francis
On the surface, we might be tempted to scoff at the pope’s claim that we’re afraid of joy. But how often have we become so used to crisis and dread in our lives that we can’t relax and enjoy a moment of peace, a time of no stress? How often do we manufacture a crisis just because we know how to solve a problem or fix something that’s broken? Easter joy takes some getting used to. We love the rigors and the austerities of Lent. We’re not as familiar or comfortable with the joy of Easter. One reason for this is that the kind of joy Jesus brings comes from living fully in the present. We are so much better at looking back to past pain or dreading the uncertainty of the future. Living in the present, the eternal now, requires both gratitude and grace.
— from the book The Hope of Lent: Daily Reflections from Pope Francis,
by Diane M. Houdek
//Franciscan Media//
Minute Meditation – Actions Speak Louder Than Words
“Today, at this moment, as I perform the same act as Jesus by washing the feet of you twelve, we are all engaged in the act of brotherhood, and we are all saying: ‘We are diverse, we are different, we have different cultures and religions, but we are brothers and sisters and we want to live in peace.’ This is the act that I carry out with you. Each of us has a history on our shoulders, each of you has a history on your shoulders: so many crosses, so much pain, but also an open heart that wants brotherhood. —Pope Francis
Perhaps no action by Pope Francis has generated as much astonishment in the press (and perhaps in the Church!) as his washing the feet of prisoners—men, women, Christian, Muslim. A ritual that has at times become an honor for the elite once again returns to what Jesus intended: “As I have done, so you must do.” In his preaching on Holy Thursday, Pope Francis draws attention to the difference between the acts of Judas and Jesus at the Last Supper. The Holy Thursday liturgy is marked by the ritual gesture of the washing of the feet. We think of it as the institution of the Eucharist, and it is that as well. But the central action of service reminds us that our communion is more than a meal, more than nourishment for our bodies and souls. It’s the act of taking on the mission, the ministry, the very body of Christ. And it is a challenge to us to remain in communion not only with one another, but with all people of the world. Our unity is far from perfect, but today’s liturgy reminds us that if we are not always working toward that unity, then, like Judas, we are finding excuses to betray Christ’s ideals.
Today we enter into the holiest days of our Church year. We celebrate the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the act that changed the very nature of human reality. Take some time to explore the way other religions similarly call their people to do loving acts of service for others. The more we know about those whose faith differs from ours, the more we will discover the common bonds that unite us.
— from the book The Hope of Lent: Daily Reflections from Pope Francis,
by Diane M. Houdek
//Franciscan Media//
Minute Meditation – The Pain of Betrayal
There is a poignant passage in the Servant Song from Isaiah that illustrates and prepares us for two betrayals that are about to happen: “I thought I had toiled in vain and uselessly, I have exhausted myself for nothing” (Isaiah 49:4). Surely that is the human feeling after someone we love turns against us. On some level, we all feel we have made some kind of contract with life, when life does not come through as we had hoped, and we feel a searing pain called betrayal. It happens to all of us in different ways. It is a belly punch that leaves us with a sense of futility and emptiness. And here it happens to Jesus from two of his own inner circle, both Judas and Peter. The more love and hope you have invested in another person, the deeper the pain of betrayal is. If it happens at a deep and personal level, we wonder if he will ever trust again. Your heart does “break.” It is one of those crossroad moments, when the breaking can forever close you down, or in time just the opposite—open you up to an enlargement of soul—as we will see in Jesus this week. What is happening is that we are withdrawing a human dependency, finding grace to forgive and let go, and relocating our little self in The Self (God), which never betrays us. It can’t! It might take years for most of us to work through this; for Jesus it seems to have been natural, although who knows how long it took him to get there. All we see in the text is that there are no words of bitterness at all, only a calm, unblaming description in the midst of the “night,” which is almost upon us.
“Solitary Jesus, you get more alone as the week goes on, till all you have is a naked but enduring hope in God. Do not bring me to such a test, I would not know how to survive.”
— from the book Wondrous Encounters: Scriptures for Lent
by Richard Rohr, OFM
Saint of the Day – March 3rd
Katharine Drexel (November 26, 1858 – March 3, 1955)
If your father is an international banker and you ride in a private railroad car, you are not likely to be drawn into a life of voluntary poverty. But if your mother opens your home to the poor three days each week and your father spends half an hour each evening in prayer, it is not impossible that you will devote your life to the poor and give away millions of dollars. Katharine Drexel did that.
Born in Philadelphia in 1858, she had an excellent education and traveled widely. As a rich girl, Katharine also had a grand debut into society. But when she nursed her stepmother through a three-year terminal illness, she saw that all the Drexel money could not buy safety from pain or death, and her life took a profound turn.
Katharine had always been interested in the plight of the Indians, having been appalled by what she read in Helen Hunt Jackson’s A Century of Dishonor. While on a European tour, she met Pope Leo XIII and asked him to send more missionaries to Wyoming for her friend Bishop James O’Connor. The pope replied, “Why don’t you become a missionary?” His answer shocked her into considering new possibilities.
Back home, Katharine visited the Dakotas, met the Sioux leader Red Cloud and began her systematic aid to Indian missions.
Katharine Drexel could easily have married. But after much discussion with Bishop O’Connor, she wrote in 1889, “The feast of Saint Joseph brought me the grace to give the remainder of my life to the Indians and the Colored.” Newspaper headlines screamed “Gives Up Seven Million!”
After three and a half years of training, Mother Drexel and her first band of nuns—Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament for Indians and Colored—opened a boarding school in Santa Fe. A string of foundations followed. By 1942, she had a system of black Catholic schools in 13 states, plus 40 mission centers and 23 rural schools. Segregationists harassed her work, even burning a school in Pennsylvania. In all, she established 50 missions for Indians in 16 states.
Two saints met when Mother Drexel was advised by Mother Cabrini about the “politics” of getting her order’s Rule approved in Rome. Her crowning achievement was the founding of Xavier University in New Orleans, the first Catholic university in the United States for African Americans.
At 77, Mother Drexel suffered a heart attack and was forced to retire. Apparently her life was over. But now came almost 20 years of quiet, intense prayer from a small room overlooking the sanctuary. Small notebooks and slips of paper record her various prayers, ceaseless aspirations, and meditations. She died at 96 and was canonized in 2000.
Reflection
Saints have always said the same thing: Pray, be humble, accept the cross, love and forgive. But it is good to hear these things in the American idiom from one who, for instance, had her ears pierced as a teenager, who resolved to have “no cake, no preserves,” who wore a watch, was interviewed by the press, traveled by train, and could concern herself with the proper size of pipe for a new mission. These are obvious reminders that holiness can be lived in today’s culture as well as in that of Jerusalem or Rome.
When I Awake, I am Blessed
