Lenten Blog

The Sun Still Shines

Written by Bill Alt on Saturday of the Fourth Week of Lent

Lent is not an easy journey to take. I find myself too often like the people of last Sunday’s gospel preferring the darkness to the light and yet, incredibly, the light still shines for me. It has been, unlike St. Paul’s sudden and blinding light, a steady beacon pointing me back to where I belong. My road to Damascus has been a slow and hesitant journey, two steps forward for every one step back. It is stumbling in fear and forgetfulness and it is long. But God finds me there along the way, brings me out of the darkness, and calls me home to be embraced by loving and merciful arms.

My friend Bill went home not long ago, dying on an early spring day when the creek was thawing. Though it sounds harsh, you couldn’t lay upon him the epitaph of a well-lived life. I loved him but Bill was a hard man to love. In his younger years, he drank and caroused. He could tell you wild stories of bar fights with miners or high-speed chases to elude the police. He had reprehensible and racist views and held onto grudges as if they were his only possession. He married twice but he never learned to love his wives and they left him. In his last days, he was living in a nursing home in a room by himself because any roommate he was given was driven away by his hostility and coldness. Bill was flawed and broken but God loved him and found him. His was a story of redemption, a story of Lent.

Now whether it is Bill’s redemption or mine or the hundreds of young people from around the country who met him, I don’t know. I like to think that in the end Bill found some peace with us, that the light slipped under the crack beneath his door and shined upon some small part of his darkness and he knew he was loved.

Every Tuesday, he came to supper with us at Nazareth Farm and no matter what the temperature was he always wore his farm hoodie. Bill was a master checkers player and well into his 80s he could beat any challenger regaling his opponents with a stream of smack talk. If you caught him in a quiet moment, however, he would reveal how much he needed us and how much he was afraid to die having misspent his life. He often said there was only one place better than Nazareth Farm and you had to die to get there.

I was not living at the Farm when Bill died, but I said a prayer for him. I prayed that whatever bound him in fear would no longer hold him. I prayed that in the end he knew that love is all that matters. I prayed that he knew he was a friend.

Bill rests today beside a little white church on a hillside overlooking the farm he loved. When the morning sun rises above the mountain it shines its light upon that hill. May Bill know, may we all know, that the sun still shines for us.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-dz-hXCIWhU]

Question for reflection:
How have you been directed towards the light?

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Bill Alt
Bill is the coordinator of St. Mary’s Alternative Spring Break program. He lives with his wife Angie and two sons, Jacob and Patrick in Ypsilanti and 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

May the Force be With You

Written by Jimmy Butler on Friday of the Fourth Week of Lent

Jesus was a man who spoke often of light and darkness. In John 8:12 he says, “”I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” Jesus makes it sound so easy in this verse but I don’t think real life is that simple.

When I think about light and dark it reminds me of one of the great films of our age: Star Wars. The great Obi-Wan Kanobi says of the force, “it surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together.” The light side (God) is always around us yet there is also a constant voice in us that says, “come to the dark side” (Darth Vader).

The darkness is pressing in all around us, trying to come into our lives. Each of us sees it in different ways; pride, selfishness, greed, gluttony. Sometimes it is hard to tell where the light ends and the darkness starts, especially on a college campus. In my own life, I struggled to find friends my freshman year of college and this left me feeling isolated and lonely. The darkness for me was one of despair and loneliness. However, that year was still full of light. I enjoyed my classes and the newfound freedom in college. I had an amazing girlfriend who is now my fiancé. The light and darkness are never mutually exclusive, just as the light and dark side both exist in the jedi world.

Jesus calls us to move towards the light, towards him and away from our sin. This requires a sacrifice by us. We need to give up whatever it is that we are holding on to (for me it was the need to feel liked by my friends) and follow Jesus into the light. May the force be with you.

Question for Reflection & Suggestion for Prayer:
What are you holding on to that is keeping you from life with Jesus in the light?
Pray for God to lead you out of the dark and heal your pain

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Jimmy Butler
Jimmy is a senior at the University of Michigan studying Mechanical Engineering.  He currently serves as St. Mary’s Intern for Undergraduate Faith Formation.  Jimmy hopes to be a high school math teacher after spending several years as an engineer and after traveling the world.  
Email: jimbutlr@umich.edu

Into the Chaos

Written by Michael Miller on the Solemnity of St. Joseph

“Mercy is the willingness to enter into the chaos of another.”

This is my favorite definition of mercy.

I learned it from a moral theologian — James Keenan, S.J. — and I share it every chance I get. I often share it during new employee orientation at Saint Joseph Mercy Health System. My job is to support my colleagues as we ensure that our mission, values and Catholic identity are tangible in the work we do each day. I get to remind my co-workers about the sacred opportunity we have to be mercy for others.

Every day, people walk into hospitals not knowing why they are sick, anxiously waiting for a diagnosis. Some of them are afraid that they don’t have enough money to pay for the care they need. This is living in chaos.

While we know we can’t cure everyone, we can care for everyone. We can be companions in their time of need. We can enter into their chaos. We can be mercy for them.

Even if you don’t work in a hospital, you probably have opportunities to be mercy for others everyday. In his 2015 Message for Lent, Pope Francis shares his hope that we take advantage of these opportunities:

“…how greatly I desire that all those places where the Church is present … may become islands of mercy in the midst of the sea of indifference!”

Perhaps you’ve heard the Gospel story about Joseph learning that Mary was pregnant before they got married. This freaked him out. He was ready to divorce her and leave. However, God intervened and Joseph chose to stay with Mary. He willingly entered into the divine chaos of Mary’s life. Joseph was mercy for Mary.

I would guess that you know people living in some kind of chaos. Whether they are in our parish, workplace, neighborhood or our own family, we can, like Joseph, be mercy for others.

Questions for Reflection:
How can I reject indifference today? How can I be mercy for others?

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Michael Miller, Jr.
Michael is the Regional Chief Mission Officer at Saint Joseph Mercy Health System. He studied philosophy at Loyola University New Orleans (BA ’01), liturgy at Aquinas Institute of Theology in St. Louis (MA ’07) and is currently studying bioethics at Loyola University Chicago. He moved to Ann Arbor in 2011 with his wife, daughter and dog, and is grateful for their willingness to enter into his chaos.
Email: michaelmillerjr@gmail.com

Editor’s Note: Pope Francis recently announced a Holy Year of Mercy, which will be celebrated from Dec. 8, 2015, until Nov. 20, 2016.  Click here to learn more.

Forget Me (Not!)

Written by Jane Aseltyne on Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Lent

We’ve all been there. That dreaded moment when it dawns on us that we forgot something important: a loved one’s birthday, an anniversary, an email from a friend needing a favor. We feel bad that we forgot, and we hope the other person doesn’t feel ignored, taken for granted, or minimized as a result. Why is it that when we forget something, we can go through the gamut of emotions: guilt, frustration, anxiety, and just generally feeling bad?

In our humanness, it’s natural to always want to be the best at whatever we do and never miss a beat. But in our humanness, we also will mess up. We will fall out of sync. And when we do, it can be difficult to forgive ourselves.

But during those times when we feel down and out, God still desires to be close to us. We read in Isaiah these words of comfort from God, “I will never forget you.” How cool is that?! Just when we need it most, God’s promise of never leaving us comes sweeping in.

Lent is a great time for us to return to God with expectant hearts, knowing that when we call on God, God answers. God never forgets. Let us invite God into the spaces of our lives that need healing and peace. It just might be that when we let God in–and let go of feeling bad about our failures–we’ll have space freed up in our hearts and minds to remember the things that truly matter!

Questions for Reflection:
What are the areas in your life that could use Jesus’ love and healing?
What do you hope to receive from Jesus as we move towards Easter?

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Jane Aseltyne
Jane entered the Church in 2013 through the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults (RCIA) program at St. Mary Student Parish. When she’s not out riding her bike or watching cat videos on YouTube, you can find her Tweeting, Facebooking, and Instagramming at A Nun’s Life Ministry, where she is the Office Manager. A Nun’s Life is based online at aNunsLife.org.
Email: jane.aseltyne@gmail.com

Small Steps

Written by Shawn Ricoy on Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Lent

I’m not very good at taking small steps. There are some things that I find to be “all or nothing.” I don’t do laundry if I don’t have three full loads. I don’t run the dishwasher until it’s full. I put off re-establishing a much-needed workout routine until I have a perfect weekly schedule set.

Laundry and dishwashing aside, I’ve really needed to focus on my health, both physical and mental. Thankfully this Lent has been different, and I actually have a weekly exercise routine that works. I know it’s okay to miss a day, and I have a little bit of room in my schedule to flex a bit and still get in a decent amount of exercise. I chalk this up in the “win column.”

A deeper way in which I avoid taking small steps is in dealing with the anger and resentment towards my dad that I carry with me. My dad was bipolar, and like many who suffer from the disease, he didn’t find treatment he could live with, and then refused to seek it any further. I learned at an early age I could not rely on him. I grew up with a constant sense of insecurity.

Our God is merciful, and abundant in forgiveness. In my own words, I look to Lent each year to “die with Christ so that I may be raised to new life with Him.” My “new life” would be free of anger and resentment toward the man who gave me life and the foundation for my faith.

I start by being more patient and forgiving with my husband and our boys. My first small step. I continue to think of ways that would release the resentment a little at a time, instead of with a set plan. I’ve realize that this “all or nothing” approach has already delayed this forgiveness for years, and that it could prove to be too emotional and painful.

This Lent will be different. I won’t limit myself to the forty days. I’m a big believer in the Christmas Season. I will try to use the entire Easter Season to practice God’s forgiveness and travel with Christ to new life. Unpack the baggage a little at a time. Small steps.

Questions for Reflection: 
What “baggage” are you carrying with you this Lent?  Anger? Resentment? What small steps might you take to begin letting go of some of this baggage?

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Shawn Ricoy
Shawn is a long-time advisor in the College of Engineering, and a long-time parishioner at St. Mary Student Parish. She and her husband Mark keep up with their three boys, enjoying their activities in choir, theater, and soccer. They love to travel as a family, and have completed their goal to swim in all five Great Lakes. Yes, even Lake Superior.
Email: soricoy@att.net

Now is the Time to Heal

Written by Christopher Swope on Monday of the Fourth Week of Lent

Pain, sorrow, and suffering are all very real things but today’s readings remind us that in times of trouble we are invited into something much more than what afflicts us. We are invited, by Jesus and the God who loves us, to heal.

In today’s gospel we come across a royal official who approaches Jesus and asks him to come and heal his son who is in a neighboring town. Upon hearing this man, Jesus looks at him and says: “You may go. Your son will live.” At that moment the man believed him and left to go see his son. Sure enough, when the royal official reached his son the next day, he found that his son had been healed at the exact moment that Jesus had uttered those words.

I would encourage us to see this royal official’s faith as an inspiration. He heard the Lord’s promise and without hesitation he believed. He knew that the Lord would follow through in His word and his son would be healed. It is with this faith that I urge us to approach the promise made in today’s first reading. In this reading the Lord has promised us a New Jerusalem, where weeping gives way to joy and delight and the pains of the past are replaced by happiness and rejoicing.

Let us remember that this is the land that the Lord has prepared for us. Let this be the land that we focus on in times of sorrow and in times of distress. For this is the land which we are called into when we accept the Lord’s invitation to heal.

Questions for Reflection:
In what ways do you feel that God is inviting you to heal?
What would that healing look like for you?

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Christopher Swope
Chris is a Junior studying Neuroscience.  He one day hopes to become a pediatrician.
Email: swopechr@umich.edu

God Loved Us First

Written by Lisa Hirsch on Saturday of the Third Week of Lent

In today’s Gospel parable, Jesus contrasts the self-righteous attitude of the Pharisee with the humble honesty of the tax collector. I can sometimes see myself as that Pharisee. As a mother thinking my way of parenting is better than those people whose kids are acting up in church and forgetting when my own children were that age and what a struggle it was to help them make it through Mass. As a volunteer working with the guests who came to our warming shelter, feeling anxious or fearful about their presence, instead of humbly admitting that they were not that different from me.

For me Lent is the time to remember that God loved us first. There is no fasting that I can do that will make amends for my sin. There is no perfect prayer that will show enough gratitude. There is no amount of almsgiving that can repay God’s generosity to me. The Pharisee prayed and fasted and tithed from his whole income. He followed the rules and did the required practices. And yet he missed the point. Those practices aren’t magic or some kind of check list that God requires of us to be holy. Rather they are only useful if they are drawing us closer to the mercy and love of God and leading us to be that mercy and love to others. The tax collector wasn’t doing any of these requirements and yet Jesus says that he is the one that “went home justified”. He simply acknowledges his unworthiness and asks for God’s mercy. He knows he doesn’t deserve the incredible gift of God’s love but he believes that God’s mercy and love are greater than any sin he has committed.

As God says in Hosea: “it is love that I desire, not sacrifice”. Our prayer, fasting and almsgiving can lead us to listen to God’s will for our lives, to open our eyes to the suffering of those on the margins and to give love and mercy to people in need. But first we need to approach God with humility and gratitude.

Questions for Reflection:
At this half way point in Lent, take some time to re-examine how your Lenten practices are working. Are the prayer, fasting and almsgiving that you are doing drawing you closer to God and other people?
Is your attitude one of humility, recognizing God’s great love and mercy for us?  How might this attitude and your practices lead you to act with mercy and love toward others?

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Lisa Hirsch
Lisa has been a resident parishioner of St. Mary for over 20 years. This year she joined the staff as the Social Justice Ministry Assistant.
Email: lhirsch@smspnewman.org

A Heart Divided Against Itself…

Written by Abby Braun on Thursday of the Third Week of Lent

I am a peacemaker—in my family and circles of friends, in my work as a campus minister, and in most areas of my life.  I’m also a people-pleaser.  If someone disapproves of me, or if people around me are arguing, I feel unsettled and rush for the easy solution.  When possible I avoid conflict and seek harmony over discord. So I struggle with the kinds of words that Jesus uses in today’s Gospel: demon, divided, armed, attack, against. I prefer the Jesus who invites us to love our neighbor as ourselves, who gathers little children in his arms and promises us a life of joy and peace. The Jesus we encounter in today’s Gospel makes me uncomfortable.

Yet Jesus didn’t come to make us comfortable. Jesus came that we might have life, and have it more abundantly. Of course as Christians we are ever aware, especially in this season of Lent, that the life Jesus offers will not be without struggle, suffering, discomfort, and yes, the dreaded conflicts.

“Every kingdom divided against itself will be laid waste.” The image that keeps coming back to me, as I imagine myself in this Gospel story, is the image of my heart as a “kingdom.” The reign of God enters into the world first and foremost through the human heart. Jesus, then, asks me to consider, “How is my heart divided?” How is my attention, my energy, my love, my life divided between things that are of God and things that are not of God?

Where is the good news in all of this for a peacemaker like me?  Jesus doesn’t stir up conflict for conflict’s sake.  He invites us into places that are uncomfortable so that we can be set free and become more loving, more generous, more joyful – more of who we were created to be.  He invites us into a peace that is deeper and far more profound than the absence of conflict. And God does not let us walk alone on the journey toward a united kingdom, a united heart. Jesus is indeed with us always until the end of the age, healing our brokenness and shining light into our lives.

Questions for Reflection:
Does anything from the Gospel or Jesus’ way of being make you uncomfortable?  What might this mean?  How is the Holy Spirit guiding you in the midst of your discomfort?
What areas of your life (or your heart) feel divided?  Where/when do you feel most at peace and united with God? How might you make more space for those things that are of God?

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Abby Braun
Abby has served as a campus minister at St. Mary’s since 2012.  After studying theology as an undergraduate student at the University of Notre Dame and Pastoral Ministry as a graduate student at the University of Dayton, Abby worked for four years as a Campus Minister at Saint Louis University where she met her husband, Bob.  She is especially grateful to be a part of a Jesuit Parish that serves a University community.  Abby works part-time at St. Mary’s and spends the rest of her days at home/toddling around Ann Arbor with her one-year-old daughter, Eleanor.
Email: aabraun@umich.edu