Author: abraun

The Craziness of Love

Written by Fr. Eric Sundrup, SJ on the Fourth Sunday of Lent

We use the story of the prodigal son so many times in the church that I often fear it can lose some of its punch. We think we know the story so well. We’ve heard it talked about and analyzed. And so we are inoculated in some way from letting it sink deeper than our previous analysis. That’s why I’m always looking for opportunities to let this break me open in new ways.

One of the things I like to do is imagine the story from the perspective of a different character each time I read or hear it. If I had previously focused on feeling and experiencing what the younger son was going through, the next time I focus all my attention on the father. After that the next go around will focus entirely on the older son. Inevitably in the course of a year, I get to repeat the cycle many times.

The two characters I struggle with the most are the father and the older son. I’ve tried over and over to imagine God speaking to me as I feel their emotions and concerns. I am always amazed that the father can be so welcoming, abandoning the hurt and pain he was caused. He seems reckless, and I want to let go and be that reckless.

On the other hand, I always catch myself easily and quickly identifying with the righteous indignation of the older son. In both cases I realize, it’s not fair. It’s just not fair. And then I look at the whole story again… It’s not fair. And I don’t think it’s ever going to be fair. Thank God for that, because this story is about the craziness of love. And it’s certainly not about fairness.

Questions for Reflection / Suggestion for Prayer:
Which character in the story do you relate with most right now?
How might your ideas about fairness impact your understanding of the way that God loves?
Pray for the grace to experience God’s reckless love for you.

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Fr. Eric Sundrup, SJ
Fr. Eric @sunnydsj was ordained in June 2014 and joined the St. Mary’s staff in August 2014.  He relocated to Ann Arbor after completing his degree at the Jesuit School of Theology in Berkeley, CA.  Fr. Eric spent part of his Jesuit training living and working in Bolivia and Peru and enjoys working with our vibrant Hispanic ministry.  He also works with the Ig.nite lead team and the RCIA program. 
Email: esundrup@smspnewman.org

Humble Human

Written by Lauren Zyber on Saturday of the Third Week of Lent

I’ve always considered writing to be my “thing.” It’s what I love and it’s what I’m good at. I’m a writing major, and in my last workshop, we discussed a piece in which I felt pretty confident.

And then my classmates began commenting.

It was just boring. It was clichéd. The characters and the plot were expected, nothing new.

It stung, hearing such harsh criticism about something I worked so hard on. They gave suggestions that I didn’t like, and I felt attacked, like they were trying to change the story I wanted to tell. It was devastating.

I began comparing my story to the other piece critiqued that day. Maybe her plot was better, but I had stronger character. I had more description. I had more grace and control.

I was the Pharisee in today’s Gospel.

This Gospel passage shows why we shouldn’t compare ourselves to others to make ourselves feel good about our lives. That’s never beneficial to our emotional, or spiritual health. And by attacking my classmate’s story, I didn’t improve my own story. It remained a boring, clichéd story.

Today’s Gospel calls for mercy and our need for God’s grace. Jesus teaches that it’s better to ask for God’s mercy than try to make yourself seem better than others. Everyone needs mercy. God is so merciful, as seen through Jesus Christ, so it is important to acknowledge our faults, our sins, and ask for mercy. And it’s important to have mercy on ourselves, so that we don’t fall into that temptation of comparing and attacking for our own sake.

I left the class feeling crushed, but it was a feeling I need to experience more often. Perhaps this was God’s way of saying, Hey, Lauren, love ya, but you’re not perfect. You’re only human. It’s hard when your ego gets checked, but it’s necessary. Because I am not the center of anything. I am just Lauren—a flawed human who sins and doesn’t always write the best short story. I’m just Lauren.

And that’s okay. In my eyes and, most importantly, in God’s. For “the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

Questions for Reflection:
Do I compare myself to others to make myself feel better?
How can I live more humbly, especially during Lent, to prepare and open my heart to God’s grace and mercy as shown through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ?

Lauren Zyber
Lauren is a parishioner at St. Mary Student Parish. She is a student at Saint Mary’s College where she studies English writing and literature.
Email: lzyber01@saintmarys.edu

Hearing God

Written by Courtney Lambesis on Friday of the Third Week of Lent

I want to share with you an excerpt written by an author I adore and find to be incredibly honest:

“I lived with a bunch of surfers during college in Southern California and they would describe hearing God’s voice. It often went something like this… “So I said, ‘Hey, God, what’s up with this?’ And then God said ‘Hey, dude, don’t worry about it; it’ll be cool,’’… And then they’d say back to God “No way!?” And then God said something back to them, “Yahweh” or something equally biblical.”  (Haha)

“All of this head-faked me for a while, to be honest, because when I listened for God’s voice I didn’t hear anything… So rather than spending time wondering why I don’t hear audible voices, I just try to listen harder with my heart…God doesn’t speak to me in an audible voice because God isn’t a human being; He’s God… human beings are limited and God isn’t limited at all.”  -Bob Goff, “Love Does”

I really identified with this chapter of the book, and was surprised by how consistent it is with Ignatian spirituality, which is centered around “finding God in all things.”

Throughout my life, I have struggled to feel God’s presence. I could never understand when others felt compelled to do certain things because God had “told them to.” I never felt like God was there when I would pray in groups and we would start by centering on God’s presence. I never understood when people went to mass and truly felt God was with them. It all felt fake to me…  like everyone was just acting like they felt God’s presence- or there was just something wrong with me.

This is why Bob’s chapter resonated with me so well. It’s not that God isn’t interacting with me, it’s that I was expecting Him to communicate with me in a way that only humans are limited to.

This Lenten season, I have adopted the Ignatian Examen into my daily routine. I have become better at recognizing Gods interactions with me, however small they may be. Through the quiet and peaceful mornings, to the music that resonates with my soul, to the gut feeling that I am supposed to act on something, to the things that break my heart, to the people who show me love. I have come to realize that God is ever present in my life. After all, he created this world, so why wouldn’t he use it to guide us and teach us and love us.

I pray that this Lenten season, you will not feel discouraged if you are unable to identify God’s presence in your life. Something great I have learned is that God is with us, whether or not we notice. We may look back weeks or months from now and see how God was working in our lives, but not realize it in that very moment. Until then, our job is simply to continue loving and pursuing God and each other.

Questions for Reflection:
How do you respond when you feel as though God has abandoned you?
What blessings do you notice as you go about your day?

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Courtney Lambesis
Courtney is a junior at U of M majoring in Biology and minoring in Environmental Studies. She serves as both a facilitator and member of the lead team for Small Church Communities at St. Mary’s.
Email: lambesco@umich.edu

Time to Germinate

Written by Peter Batra on Thursday of the Third Week of Lent

“Be careful what you wish/pray for…it might come true.”

As I reflect on last Sunday’s Gospel reading and this week’s theme (grace), this popular idiom came to mind. The Gospel reading for this week contains the parable of the barren Fig tree as Jesus told it to the Galileans. To summarize, it’s about an orchard owner who instructed his gardener to cut down a fig tree that had produced no fruit since being planted three years before. The gardener replied that he would tend the soil for another year and if the tree still bore no fruit, then he could cut it down.

If God is the orchard owner and we are the gardeners, then to me this is a story of the balance between patience (time) and action. Waiting endlessly for something to just happen without some ‘action’ will most likely have no result. Imagine that perfect job or other opportunity that without action is unlikely to become reality. The reverse is also true, for with only concentrated action and little or no patience, we still may not achieve a desired result. Perhaps grace is the ingredient that nudges us to act boldly by fertilizing the soil or just hold our position and let the sun and rain do its job? Ideas have a way of germinating over time and there is at least one other parable that talks about being ready to act when opportunity presents itself–but that’s a topic for another blog.

I am also struck by the fact that unlike the Galilieans, we are surrounded by a world that demands instant results. Smartphones, email and a culture of instant gratification have facilitated the expectation of being always ‘on,’ blurring the lines of work, social/family and quiet time. Like the fig tree that hasn’t yet borne fruit, our ideas need time to germinate and are nurtured by reflecting on our lives, including the people we interact with, our goals and ambitions, and our spiritual beliefs.

Question for Reflection:
What do you wish/pray for?

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Peter Batra
Peter lives in Ann Arbor with his wife Adrienne and three school aged daughters, Madeleine, Lauren & Charlotte. He is a survey researcher at the University of Michigan College of Pharmacy.
Email: pbatra01@gmail.com

The Unmerited Favor of God

Written by Rachel Conner on Wednesday of the Third Week of Lent

I learned the hard way that you cannot earn someone’s affection. When I was seven years old, I took ballet lessons. One of the girls in my class was the coolest person I had ever met. She was older than most of the others in the class by a year or two and before the lesson started, she would hold court and bestow upon us the wisdom of her years. Her leotard had little pearls sewn into it and came with a swishy skirt that twirled when she did a pirouette. When everyone else was growing their hair out, she cut it short to be different. I wanted to be her, but since I couldn’t do that I wanted to be her best friend.

I tried so hard to be this girl’s friend. I would try to sit next to her at every opportunity. When we split into groups, I would painstakingly count out where I needed to stand in line to be in the same group as her. I invited her to my super-special-fancy-dinner birthday party (we went to Pizza Hut). When it was my turn to bring snack to class, I found out that she loved peanut butter and brought peanut butter cookies. I stopped just short of following her around like a lost sheep, but she was never interested in being more than classmates.

My little 7-year-old self was heartbroken that I couldn’t make this girl like me…until she quit ballet, took up piano, and stopped hanging out with the dance girls. It was an important lesson for me to learn though: You can’t force someone to like you or to be your friend.

Grace is “the free and unmerited favor of God.” I often hear Christians saying things like, “God loves us, even though we don’t deserve it,” or, “God loves us even though we are sinners.” We try so hard to be worthy of that love, to do things that we believe glorify God and to avoid sin, but we will always, always, always fall short because you cannot earn grace. It can only be given freely, and God gives it to us in abundance.

So we are sinners, and we are imperfect, and we need salvation, and God loves us. God doesn’t love us because we’re good people, or because we invite God to our birthday parties. God loves us. Period.

Question for Reflection / Suggestion for Prayer:
How have you tried to earn God’s favor?
Brainstorm ways that you can let God love you.

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 Rachel Conner
Rachel served as a Peer Minister at St. Mary Student Parish during the 2014-2015 academic year. She is currently a Case Manager for Neighborhood Service Organization in Detroit, where she works with at-risk teen girls. She has a great love for cats and a strong desire to one day visit outer space.
Email: conner.rach@gmail.com

Humble Enough to Ask

Written by Stephanie Smith on Tuesday of the Third Week of Lent

Today’s readings reveal a God who forgives, not just once, but over and over again. Our God offers us grace and invites us into relationship with him so that we may grow in holiness and embrace the goodness that each of us has inside us. I don’t know about you, but often my own goodness is very hard for me to see. Lately, I have found myself struggling with self-image and an overwhelming awareness of my own imperfections and inadequacies. By nature, I am a high-anxiety person who thirsts for control and struggles to stay in one place. I am quick to make assumptions and harsh judgements about others, sometimes rejoicing in their faults and failures. I easily fall into bad habits like gossip and laziness. The list goes on and on. Focusing on my own flaws tempts me to be very quick to point out the negative traits in others, and none of this helps me to embrace the abundant and joyful life that Jesus offers to me. Yet, I have found that it is precisely in my weaknesses and flaws, in the places where I struggle immensely to love myself, that Jesus offers me his love, even though I resist.

While our God is eager to forgive and heal us, the readings today challenge us to remember that forgiveness requires humility. In the Book of Daniel, Azariah prays, “But with contrite heart and humble spirit let us be received.” How often are we not humble enough to ask for God’s forgiveness? Sometimes I think, “I’m not THAT bad, I haven’t done anything really wrong.” On the flip side, I often feel unworthy of God’s mercy and forgiveness and so do not even bother to ask because I believe that I am far too sinful for God to forgive me. Both responses reveal not humility but sinful pride. Pride tells us that we aren’t THAT bad while simultaneously telling us that we are SO bad that not even God can cleanse us of our offenses. How powerful and mighty have I made myself that my actions are capable of thwarting the unconditional love and compassion of the Father? How often does my pride tempt me to reject the mercy and grace that God longs to give?

Pope Francis reminds us that God does not tire of forgiving, it is we who tire of asking. Throughout this Lenten journey, in the midst of the Jubilee Year of Mercy, let us throw ourselves into the loving arms of our God who desires so deeply to save us. As we continue to hope in the promise of the Resurrection, may we eagerly ask God to give us what we need – a contrite heart and a humble spirit – so that He may lead us to conversion and offer us new life.

Questions for Reflection:
In your own life, how have you noticed pride interfering with your ability to receive God’s grace and forgiveness?
In what areas of your life do you struggle to love yourself and believe that you are worthy of God’s love?

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Stephanie Smith
Stephanie is a resident parishioner involved in the Grad/YP group at St. Mary’s. Stephanie teaches theology to 9th and 10th graders at Divine Child High School in Dearborn.
Email: stephlogan9@gmail.com

Go and Wash

In today’s first reading, Naaman, a respected army commander but also a leper, shows up at Elisha’s door.  He has made a long journey in search of healing, and fully expects that Elisha will cure him immediately.  Instead, the prophet tells him to “Go and wash seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will heal, and you will be clean.”  I imagine Naaman’s first thought was, “I’ve come all this way and now you want me to do what?”  But God had a plan for Naaman’s sanctification.  It was unexpected yet ordinary, a simple act of surrender to God’s will: Go and wash…heal…be clean.

Jennifer Campbell

Our Response to Suffering

Written by Bill Alt on the Third Sunday of Lent

My mom is a miracle.  Almost forty years ago, my dad sat my older sister and me down and told us that mom was very sick; she would be going to the hospital.  She had been diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer and did not know what the future would be for her and her five young children.  She survived but in 2009 she called to say that she would not be able to come to my oldest son’s first birthday party because she was sick again.  She had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer.

Now, seven years later, she has survived and beaten cancer.  More importantly, she lives her life with purpose and not regrets and recriminations.  Each moment for her is an opportunity to love and she has never let her children, her grandchildren, or her husband forget that they are loved.  She lives in peace and joy, a sort of indifference, and I am so grateful for her life and the gift that she is.

I will not believe that her cancer is a punishment from God or even a testing of her faith.  No, she is no more guilty, I am no more guilty, than the unfortunate people killed by the falling tower at Siloam we hear about in today’s Gospel.  Suffering is not a punishment for our sinfulness and we need not seek it out in order to draw closer to God.  Suffering will find us.  It’s our response that matters.

Sin and suffering are real.  Will we repent and believe that God never tires of us?  Will we seek forgiveness?  Will we cultivate the ground of our heart, fertilize it, so that our lives bear fruit?  Will we allow God to tend to our barrenness, to be our master gardener?

Questions for Reflection: 
How have you responded to the suffering in your life?
During Lent, what are you doing to cultivate the ground of your heart?
How is God the master gardener of your life?

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Bill Alt
Bill is St. Mary’s Campus Minister for Social Justice. He lives in Ypsilanti with his wife, Angie, and two sons, Jacob and Patrick.  They have worshiped at St. Mary Student Parish since 2012. They miss the mountains of West Virginia but have found a home in Michigan.
Email: walt@smspnewman.org

Identity and Motivation

 Written by Melia West on Saturday of the Second Week of Lent

“Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers.”

It is worth reflecting on two nuanced thoughts of the younger son. First, his motivation to return to his father’s house is not out of love for his father, but out of use. He returns out of hunger in his belly, out of his own self-centered desires, not out of hunger for reunion with his father.

How much is this like myself when I stray in faithfulness from daily prayer. I become distracted by worldly deadlines or pressures, and only find a need to return to Our Father when I have exhausted all of my stored ‘wealth’. If I am honest with myself, that moment of realizing I am empty is a moment of desiring to return out of use, and not out of a deep love of a friend, a want to spend time with Him; I return to ask for more energy/love/focus… (or fill in the blank). Yet this is not a reason to make myself feel guilty. For this is not of God. God, who is “kind and merciful”, loves us so much that there is not room in his mind’s eye for him to remember our sin, or our misguided reasons of turning to Him. “As far as the east is from the west, so far has he put our transgressions from us.” While becoming aware of my interior motivations, let me not linger. Let me simply return to Him, rejoicing in my emptiness, in a spirit of love and not of use.

Additionally, the younger son does not resolve to return to his father to resume his position as a beloved son, rather as hired help. He has forgotten who he is – his very identity and reason for coming into existence, for being loved into existence.

Isn’t this at the heart of every sin we commit, large or small? We forget, even if for a moment, who we are as God’s beloved; for if it were possible to keep His Love for us at the forefront of our minds, we would surely not be tempted to leave His loving gaze.

Suggestion for Prayer
Set time aside today to sit in prayer; come to prayer in a spirit of love and not of use. Imagine yourself the younger son, and let the Father’s loving gaze rest on you. Allow him to drape His royal cloth over you and strap sandals to your feet. Do not be ashamed of your need, but stay with the Father in love. After prayer, forget not His unique and complete love for you, as you go into the world, to become the blessing He wants to make you to others.

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Melia West
Melia is a Master of Urban Design student at Taubman College of Architecture and Urban Planning, expecting to graduate in June. She and her fiancé are preparing for marriage in October. Melia converted to Catholicism in 2010, and has been a parishioner at St. Mary’s since August 2015.
Email: meliawest@gmail.com

The Communal Journey

Written by Brendan Dailey on Friday of the Second Week of Lent

I don’t like feeling alone.

I imagine few people do, but for me it’s one of the bigger things I strive to overcome. I get a lot of energy from being around others, so times that I find myself alone can be unsettling. You see, I’ve been single for quite some time now, and I go through waves with that experience. At times, I am drawn closer to God, friends, and family, and know that despite being single, I’m never truly alone. Other times, I feel an emptiness and a sadness that accompany my situation. In these times, I tend to take it upon myself to fix my problem, and begin to focus more inwardly. What am I doing wrong? What can I do to change my situation? Foolishly, I strive to conquer my loneliness… alone.

In this Lenten ‘desert’ we journey through to Easter, I am working to turn my focus back toward the Lord, building my relationship with Him, and back outward to those around me. By focusing inwardly on myself, I miss out on the opportunities I am given to lean on those God has placed in my life, and alternatively, I miss out on the opportunities I am given to be there for someone else. While our journeys through the desert are often ones of individual growth, it doesn’t mean that we must journey alone. Rather, we are called in this time to be aware of our presence in one another’s lives, and are called to be a blessing to each other.

Today’s readings illustrate this quite well. In Genesis, we read about Joseph, and the great love his father had for him. This love made Joseph’s brothers extremely jealous, to the point they plotted to kill him. Joseph was a blessed and gifted man. Instead of recognizing that his gifts differed from their own, and seeking to learn and understand from their young brother, they grew selfish, jealous, and hateful. In the Gospel, Jesus uses a parable to show the Chief Priests and Elders of the people the errors of their ways. God had sent the Jewish people prophet after prophet, servant after servant, to tell them of the Lord’s grace and mercy, and they continued to turn away. Now, God has sent his own Son to them, and instead of recognizing this great blessing to the people, they reject and kill him. Out of pride, out of greed, and out of fear.

As this Lent continues, I challenge you and myself to embrace the communal aspect of our journey, acknowledging the times when we need to be carried, and recognizing when we are being called to carry others.

Questions for Reflection:
When do I push others away instead of accepting their help, out of jealousy, hatred, or fear of being vulnerable?
When am I in a position to help others, but am too focused on myself to notice?

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Brendan Dailey:
Brendan is an alumni of the University of Michigan and currently works for the University as an IT professional. He is a member of the Graduate Student and Young Professional lead team, and frequents the 12 pm Mass at St. Mary’s.
Email: bdailey@umich.edu