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Welcome Home – Open Door, Open Hearts

Written by Cherie Donze on Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Lent

Years ago, in another time and place, I found myself suddenly cast into a drama that rattled my being.  I was blindsided and naïve.  People and circumstances were not what I had believed them to be.  Before personal cell phones, text messages and emails, it was not possible for me to use the shared landline phone to call home to talk to my parents privately for wisdom, and they lived hundreds of miles away.  I did what for me was surely shocking to them:  I called my dad just as he arrived at work, told him I was flying home that day for a couple days, and asked him to pick me up at the airport.  I offered no explanation and he asked for none.

Dad picked me up at the airport in the middle of his work day, drove me the 25 miles home, allowing me my silence.  Mom was shocked to see us both, as he hadn’t called to warn her.  She hugged me but asked no questions.  Exhausted from a draining and sleepless 24 hours I went straight to my old room to bed.  Dad woke me for dinner, and I slid into my usual seat.  Both brothers, living at home at the time, were wide eyed.  They hadn’t been filled in about my unexpected appearance.  Some part of me thought the whole thing rather like a bad movie.

I had gone home to where I felt safe, where people were who I could trust, where I knew I was loved, where I could find my center.   As I found my voice they listened and loved.  I marveled then, and have ever since, about the incredible grace that my family gifted me in those hours.  Mom and Dad reminded me that God is always with me.  While it would take some time, some tough choices, some more grace, returning home to that space with open doors and open hearts, I could feel peace returning.

I feel grace and peace when I am in God’s home, when I am welcomed with a smile by Eucharistic ministers I see Jesus, when I sit in silence in His presence or am singing with His family.  It is a safe and loving space, a space of peace and of grace.  It is comfortable, there are smiles and hugs, and it is my spiritual home.  I feel centered.  God’s door is always open for each of us, and His heart is big enough to love us, no strings attached.  There is a place at the table for Sunday dinner for everyone in God’s home.

Questions for Reflection / Suggestion for Prayer:
Where do you feel at home?  Where do you feel peace?
Do you trust that God your father and Jesus your brother will welcome you with no questions asked?
Be aware of those times you feel at home, at peace, and open your heart to the loving presence of God.  Be encouraged that His home is your home.

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Cherie Donze
Cherie joined St. Mary as a grad student in 1981 and has been happily at home here ever since.  Her three children were all baptized and confirmed here.  Over the years she has served on the Handicap Accessibility Committee, as Bread Baking Coordinator, on the Family Ministry Committee, co-founded First Sunday, Sacramental Prep, and Confirmation Programs, and participated in the same Small Church Community (originally started through the Christian Family Movement, or CFM), meeting monthly, since January 2000.  One of her favorite things is St. Mary’s Feast Day of Service.  She’s tickled that many of the CFM kids (most now young adults themselves) refer to the adults as their CFM aunts and uncles.
Email: cdonzearchitect@gmail.com

Lead Us to Your Table

Written by Amanda Peters on Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Lent

Israel means “to struggle with God.” I’ve always taken comfort in that.

Fittingly, this Lent finds me in a spiritual desert. On the outside I appear to be a “good” Catholic. I go to mass, I am a catechist, a member of an SCC and ASB, a lector, and a frequenter of igNite.  I participate. I pray. But I would be lying if I said that I don’t struggle with God. I doubt. A lot. Doubting Catholicism, or at its worst, doubting God himself is terrifying. I can begin to imagine how the Israelites felt in the desert.

Two pieces have helped me come to terms with my dilemma:

“Lo, I am with you always means when you look for God, / 
God is in the look of your eyes, / 
in the thought of looking, / nearer to you than your self, /
or things that have happened to you…”- Rumi

“…But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it…” -Thomas Merton

There is no shame in struggling with your faith. Even the ancient Israelites continually wrestled with God. You’re not alone. Take heart that this Lent you are called to return home. A home that is always available to you. Our Lord has set a place for you at his table. He will never give up on you. Therefore, I cannot fear. I have a seat perpetually saved, and a Lord who will forever desire to dine with me.

Lord I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.

Questions for Reflection:
Where are the spiritually dry areas in your life?
How is God making himself manifest even in your doubts and fears?

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Amanda Peters
Amanda is a senior at U of M studying History and History of Art. She can be found Irish dancing, reading, perusing the UMMA, or nerding out about history. Next year she hopes to either participate in Jesuit Volunteer Corps Northwest or teach English in France.
Email: peterama@umich.edu

Embracing Doubts to Grow in Faith

Written by Sarah Puchala on Monday of the Fourth Week of Lent

Growing up I attended Catholic schools from Kindergarten through 12th grade. It seemed like the whole world was Catholic.   At least, my whole world was Catholic. Everyone believed that Jesus was the Son of God. Then I went to college. I knew people practiced other faiths but I thought it was a small minority. This misconception changed very quickly. My friends in college were all types of believers including Jewish, Hindu, agnostic, atheist, and non-practicing Catholics. This is when I started to question my Catholic beliefs, my foundation. Why is Jesus so special to me?

Sometimes it is easy to question if Jesus is the Son of God when those around you do not believe in Him. In today’s Gospel, a man asks Jesus to cure his ill son. Jesus replies, “unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe!” We do not know everything and it is easy to have doubts about who Jesus is.  Learning about my friend’s beliefs and religions has helped me delve deeper into our Catholic faith. It has helped me to realize how special the meaning of Easter really is. Jesus Christ, the Son of God, died on the cross because he loves us. Every one of us. Simply because. Jesus was truly radical!  Jesus shows us that love “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things (1 Corinthians 13:7).

Questions for Reflection:
How have you learned about your faith from those around you?
How can you love like Jesus loves?
How can you love those in your life who are hard to love?

Sarah Puchala
Sarah graduated with a B.S. and M.S. in Human Nutrition from the Ohio State University. She is currently a Dietetic Intern at the University of Michigan Hospital System.  She is a catechist in St. Mary’s Family Faith Formation and happy to call St. Mary Student Parish home. 
Email: spuchala@med.umich.edu

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