20th Sunday in Ord Time - August 14, 2011

August 14, 2011 - Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Reading 1 Is 56:1, 6-7

Thus says the LORD: Observe what is right, do what is just; for my salvation is about to come, my justice, about to be revealed.

The foreigners who join themselves to the LORD, ministering to him, loving the name of the LORD, and becoming his servants- all who keep the sabbath free from profanation and hold to my covenant, them I will bring to my holy mountain and make joyful in my house of prayer;
their burnt offerings and sacrifices will be acceptable on my altar, for my house shall be called
a house of prayer for all peoples.

Responsorial Psalm Ps 67:2-3, 5, 6, 8

R. (4) O God, let all the nations praise you!
May God have pity on us and bless us; may he let his face shine upon us.
So may your way be known upon earth; among all nations, your salvation.
R. O God, let all the nations praise you!
May the nations be glad and exult because you rule the peoples in equity; the nations on the earth you guide.
R. O God, let all the nations praise you!
May the peoples praise you, O God; may all the peoples praise you!
May God bless us, and may all the ends of the earth fear him!
R. O God, let all the nations praise you!

Reading 2 Rom 11:13-15, 29-32

Brothers and sisters: I am speaking to you Gentiles. Inasmuch as I am the apostle to the Gentiles, I glory in my ministry in order to make my race jealous and thus save some of them. For if their rejection is the reconciliation of the world, what will their acceptance be but life from the dead?

For the gifts and the call of God are irrevocable. Just as you once disobeyed God but have now received mercy because of their disobedience, so they have now disobeyed in order that, by virtue of the mercy shown to you, they too may now receive mercy. For God delivered all to disobedience, that he might have mercy upon all.

Gospel Mt 15:21-28

At that time, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. And behold, a Canaanite woman of that district came and called out, "Have pity on me, Lord, Son of David! My daughter is tormented by a demon." But Jesus did not say a word in answer to her.

Jesus' disciples came and asked him, "Send her away, for she keeps calling out after us."
He said in reply, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel."
But the woman came and did Jesus homage, saying, "Lord, help me."
He said in reply, "It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs."
She said, "Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters."
Then Jesus said to her in reply, "O woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish." And the woman's daughter was healed from that hour.

Reflection

In the current film adaptation of the superhero series, Captain America, the title character is portrayed as a scrawny asthmatic who tries unsuccessfully to sign up for military service during the throes of World War II. Steve Rogers, the young man who would become Captain America, goes from one recruiting station to another, falsifying his name and downplaying his physical ailments, all in an effort to join the Army. Ultimately, a senior scientist happens to overhear an exchange between Rogers and a recruiter, at which point the scientist, impressed by the young man’s tireless persistence and resolve, intervenes on Rogers’ behalf. Rogers, an emaciated teenager from Brooklyn, goes on to become a figure of superhuman strength following an injection of serum developed by this scientist. This most unlikely of people—an orphan of no great physical strength or social standing—becomes the very emblem of human strength and American commitment during the War.

And so it is in today’s Gospel. The woman who approaches Jesus is a Canaanite—a member of the tribe that the Israelites had vanquished when, led by Moses’ successor, Joshua, they had escaped captivity in Egypt and conquered the land of Canaan. The Canaanites, therefore, were sworn enemies of the Jews, whom they believe to have displaced and subjugated them. For a Canaanite—a woman, no less (in a society where women who were not blood related did not dare speak to men in public)—to engage Jesus like this is extremely unusual.

The woman, like the Rogers boy, is a misfit, and yet she is set apart by the author of this story in a remarkable way: in all of the Gospel of Matthew, this woman alone is described as being “great of faith.” Not John. Not James. Not even Peter. But a woman—and a Gentile at that! Clearly, the evangelist wishes to emphasize the enormity of this woman’s belief, and the immense role that the virtue of persistence played in the efficacy of her undertaking. At first, Jesus rebuffs her, but she refuses to be dismissed. Jesus’ response—that it is not right to throw to the dogs what rightly belongs to the children—strikes us as particularly harsh, especially coming from the God to whom we are invited to bring our every need.

Jesus’ remark bears a bit of deconstruction—why would he spurn her so callously? It must be remembered that Jesus was a human being like any other, inasmuch as his earthly ministry was limited by the physical constraints of a human body. Though ultimately he commissioned the disciples to bring the Gospel to the ends of the earth, he himself remained exclusively in the relatively small region of Judea and Galilee. He never traveled to Athens, Rome, or Alexandria, much less Central America or Southeast Asia. There are only so many hours in a day, and, at the time of Jesus, it was impossible to film a sermon, upload it to Youtube, and have it broadcast around the world. Jesus’ response, in effect, is reminding us that his primary mission, while here on Earth, was to the Jewish people of that particular region.

Just as it is very sad that there are starving children in urban Detroit and even worse conditions in famine-plagued Somalia, a parent’s primary concern must be to make sure that his/her own children have enough to eat before s/he worries about finding the resources to feed others. In other words, Jesus is attesting to the very real boundaries imposed by limited resources—he only had so much time and energy, and if he began ministering to additional communities, he wouldn’t be taking care of his primary charge, the Jews.

What this woman says to Jesus is, “Yes, you have a responsibility to feed your own children first, but if the food’s already made, and there’s some left over, why not let the hungry creature eat it?” She is saying, in effect, that she is already there among the peoples to whom Jesus and his disciples are ministering. She is not asking him to come to a distant land with her; what she is asking should just be a “scrap” of the “food” that’s already been prepared.

The archetype presented by this woman ought to be familiar to us—the undersized outcast who petitions some great master for instruction and ultimately ends up impressing the mentor-figure by virtue of his/her persistence. We see it in dozens of motivational movies, from Sylvester Stallone’s Rocky to Cool Runnings’ Jamaican bobsledders. Perhaps the most potent example from contemporary culture, and the one most analogous to today’s Gospel, is the character portrayed by Hilary Swank in the movie Million Dollar Baby. Like the Canaanite woman, Swank’s female boxer is a misfit, a woman who dares step foot into a man’s world, and one rebuked sharply by Clint Eastwood’s Coach when she approaches him for tutelage. Ultimately, she wins him over with her perseverance and refusal to take, “No” for an answer.

So what does this mean for all of us? We, like the Canaanite woman, often ask Jesus for things. We bring to him our petitions—to heal an ailing relative; to find us a job in a tough economy; to help us find a girl/boyfriend—and oftentimes, it feels as though we are shot down, much as the woman in today’s Gospel is. There is an adage that goes, “God answers all of our prayers, but sometimes, the answer is ‘no.’” The question thus becomes, “Is that a ‘hard no?’ or a ‘no, not right now, but perhaps later, under different circumstances’?” A man might ask his girlfriend for her hand in marriage after they’ve been dating for a few months, and her response might be, “No,” but it is because she is still in graduate school and the two have not yet been dating long enough that she feels certain he is the one she wants to marry. That is, she may well be saying, “No, not right at this moment, but possibly in the future, if certain conditions are met.”

So may it be with God. In some instances, “No” is a final decision, and in others, it is an invitation for us to demonstrate our resolve, as was the case with the Canaanite woman and Hilary Swank’s boxer. The challenge for us is to discern which type of “rejection” we are receiving, and, if we think it only a deferment rather than an outright rejection, to figure out how to move forward persistently and patiently.

Questions for Reflection

1) Have you ever asked God for something and felt like the answer was, “No”? Why do you think that was? Do you think it worked out for the best? If not, did any good come of it?

2) Do you believe that God answers all of our prayers? Does it seem as though he answers all people’s prayers equally and fairly?

3) What, in your life, do you see as the value of persistence? Is there any example of an instance when your persistence paid off? Any times when, despite your persistence, you still failed to attain your goal? Where do you see God at work in that?

7 August 2011 - 19th Sunday in Ord Time [Cycle A]

August 7, 2011 - Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Reading 1 - 1 Kgs 19:9a, 11-13a
At the mountain of God, Horeb, Elijah came to a cave where he took shelter. Then the LORD said to him, “Go outside and stand on the mountain before the LORD; the LORD will be passing by.”
A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the LORD—but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake—but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake there was fire—but the LORD was not in the fire. After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound. When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak and went and stood at the entrance of the cave.

Responsorial Psalm - 85:9, 10, 11-12, 13-14

R. (8) Lord, let us see your kindness, and grant us your salvation.
I will hear what God proclaims; the LORD — for he proclaims peace.
Near indeed is his salvation to those who fear him, glory dwelling in our land.
R. Lord, let us see your kindness, and grant us your salvation.
Kindness and truth shall meet; justice and peace shall kiss.
Truth shall spring out of the earth, and justice shall look down from heaven.
R. Lord, let us see your kindness, and grant us your salvation.
The LORD himself will give his benefits; our land shall yield its increase.
Justice shall walk before him, and prepare the way of his steps.
R. Lord, let us see your kindness, and grant us your salvation.

Reading II - Rom 9:1-5

Brothers and sisters: I speak the truth in Christ, I do not lie; my conscience joins with the Holy Spirit in bearing me witness that I have great sorrow and constant anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my own people, my kindred according to the flesh. They are Israelites; theirs the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises; theirs the patriarchs, and from them, according to the flesh, is the Christ, who is over all, God blessed forever. Amen.

Gospel - Mt 14:22-33

After he had fed the people, Jesus made the disciples get into a boat and precede him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. After doing so, he went up on the mountain by himself to pray. When it was evening he was there alone. Meanwhile the boat, already a few miles offshore, was being tossed about by the waves, for the wind was against it. During the fourth watch of the night, he came toward them walking on the sea.
When the disciples saw him walking on the sea they were terrified. “It is a ghost,” they said, and they cried out in fear. At once Jesus spoke to them, “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.”

Peter said to him in reply, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” Peter got out of the boat and began to walk on the water toward Jesus. But when he saw how strong the wind was he became frightened; and, beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand and caught Peter, and said to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” After they got into the boat, the wind died down. Those who were in the boat did him homage, saying, “Truly, you are the Son of God.”

Reflection

I just bought a new bike—my first road bike—as I’ve been going out for longer and longer rides and decided that it was time to invest in the proper equipment. My old bike, a sturdy hybrid that competently handles pavement without disintegrating over rougher terrain, has served me well, and in the two years I’ve been riding it, I’ve never had a problem with it.

Last week, I went to the Shore with my family, and I brought along the seasoned hybrid, for fear that something might happen to my shiny new roadster. Moreover, I was afraid I’d blow a tire on the new bike, and I hadn’t yet purchased spare tubes or a patch kit. So I stuck with the trusted, older ride. And naturally blew out my first tire ever on it. Not only that, the spare tube from a passing Samaritan cyclist popped as soon as it was inflated. Predictably, the tubes waited until my longest ride of the trip, and the blowout occurred when I was over ten miles away from the shore house. Ultimately, I ended up jogging back, dragging the bike alongside me.

God was in the blowout. I’m not saying God physically blew out my tire; some small chard of glass or piece of metal probably did that. But God was undoubtedly at work in the experience. Using the torn rubber tube to communicate with me. Allowing an objectively “evil” event to occur, i.e. blowing out a tire, to teach me some lesson, to form me in some way.

As soon as I got back to my parents’ house in Pennsylvania, I made a trip to the bike shop and bought spare tubes and a portable pump. I also made sure I bought a seat pack large enough to accommodate a cell phone should I really find myself in trouble. Truth be told, prior to the blowout, I wasn’t convinced I really needed all that. I’m accustomed to shopping for electronics, and I’m of the opinion that the $40 extended service warranty on a $100 camera is rarely a good value and that the innumerable accoutrements the sales clerk pushes upon purchase are usually unnecessary. Following my blown tire, however, I was thoroughly sold on the importance of buying the proper equipment for these longer rides. In fact, as I jogged home, bike in tow, I grinned and said out loud, “Message received, God.”

God was in the blown tire. Just as God was in the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze off the ocean later that day. God used the inner harmony I experienced from lying on the sand to remind me that we, humans—myself included—need breaks. And He used the blown tire to say a lot of things, not the least of which is that I’m not nearly so in control of life circumstances as I sometimes like to think! God speaks to us in the mundane, easy-to-overlook experiences of my everyday existence. But we an only hear if we know to listen.

I often hear people lament, “God doesn’t answer my prayers.” When asked for more detail, they usually reply that they have offered up some supplication or asked some question of God in prayer, but that they received no response. As though God were expected to write on their facebook wall or send them a text message with the answer. (“I got your note about passing the bar exam… I’m pretty busy this week; I’m going to have to get back to you. I’m tagging @Thomas More in this post in case he can be of any help in the meantime.”)

This is the point of the first reading. Ancient peoples almost universally associated God or gods with awe-some displays of cosmic force. Thunder. Lightning. Earthquakes. The Sun. And it’s obvious to see why—these were phenomena far beyond the force of human capabilities, so they must have some SUPER-human origin. Thus, when they experienced an eclipse or suffered through a drought, they assumed it must be g/God communicating with them. In fact, the Hebrew Scriptures are rife with examples of God doing just this—using natural (and supernatural) phenomena to indicate His pleasure or displeasure with a people.

When there were plagues or famines, it was understood that God was upset with them. That they had done something wrong to elicit His ire; or worse, that he had forsaken them altogether. When things were going well; when they achieved some great military victory, they attributed this to God’s favor. To his support of their cause. If they lost a battle, or if a river flooded, it was because God had abandoned them. If they conquered a new territory or brought in a record harvest, it was because God supported their undertaking.

But we do the same thing, many times. We find God in our personal (or communal) victories and bemoan His ostensible absence during our hardships. We celebrate God’s goodness when we pass an exam, and we curse Him when we fail. We thank God effusively when we land the job we wanted or the cancer screening comes back negative; but we openly question His providence when we find ourselves laid off or learn that the test results were not good. What Elijah understands, and what the first reading attempts to convey, is that God is in the whispers as well as the thunder. God communicates to us in ways we do not always expect or even understand. Certainly not in the ways WE would choose to communicate if WE were God. So often, we want God to reply to us in sentence form.

But more often than not, God’s preferred form of communication is non-verbal. Rather than reply to our question, “What am I supposed to do with my life?” with an e-mail indicating that we are supposed to be an elementary school teacher, God plants a joy in our heart when we undertake the activity of helping others learn. We feel an incredible sense of fulfillment the summer we work as a camp counselor, teaching kids about various types of leaves and animals; and conversely, we complain incessantly about the following year when we were stuck filing financial reports in our dad’s office.

The joy and fulfillment in our heart when we work with the kids; the compliments from the older counselors who see our natural rapport with the participants; the hugs from the campers at the end of the summer—all of these are God communicating with us. And so is the opposite experience—the loneliness and boredom of an office job. The indifference towards spreadsheets and the disdain for suit jackets.

God may occasionally employ the thunder and earthquake to get our attention, but the majority of His end of the conversation is in a decidedly less conspicuous form. God may use some major life event, e.g. a major illness, or losing a job, to remind us of, for instance, the value of human relationships, but on a more daily basis, that same message is broadcast in more subtle tones. For instance, the friend who can tell that our new boss is causing us greater anxiety at work and offers to come by with Chinese food and a DVD.

Many famous athletes, celebrities, and businessmen end up writing memoirs in which they detail some major adversity that helped teach them important life values. The football coach who has a health scare and realizes that no number of conference championships is worth a premature heart attack. The corporate marketing guru who loses her job and re-discovers the value of time spent with her children. But it is also highly probable that God had been “whispering” to these individuals all along. In the form of the joy the marketer felt when she saw her daughter’s first soccer goal, and conversely in the immense guilt she’d experienced when she couldn’t get out of work in time for the ballet recital.

The challenge, for us, is twofold: first, to be open and attentive to what God might be “whispering” to us already and every day in our life. And second, to discern what those whispers might mean. The first part takes attunement and openness. The second part requires immense patience, not rushing to judgment and deciding that we have divined all that God intended to “say” through a given experience, shutting the door on further interpretation.

Thus, we must be aware that the fact that we didn’t get into a single grad school when we applied means SOMETHING. God wishes to communicate SOMETHING to us. So we should be attentive to what that might be. But we must likewise be careful not to decide we are certain it is so straightforward as: God doesn’t want me to go to grad school. Perhaps. But perhaps God simply does not want you to go to any of THOSE particular 10 schools at THIS particular time in your life, preferring you instead to work for a year in the field, gaining some valuable experience before heading off to a program that is an even better fit.

God “whispers” to us in the beauty of a sunset over the ocean as well as the dreariness of a rainy afternoon in winter. God answers our prayers both in the winning of a research grant and in the losing of one. In the amazing friends we have, and in the a-holes we meet. The task for us is first to be attentive to the whispers, then to discern what they might mean.

Questions for Reflection

1) Do you ever feel as though God doesn’t answer your prayers? Do you ever struggle to see where God is at work in your life? What has been your experience?

2) If you do see God at work in your life, where do you encounter God? What are these experiences like? What led/leads you to believe it’s God?

3) Have you ever experienced some time in your life in which it felt as though God was absent or unresponsive? Do you still feel that way? How did it get resolved?

4) Are there any “whispers” from God you’re aware of right now (or thunderclaps?!) that you’re trying to comprehend? What sorts of resources do you use or people do you go to in order to try and make sense of these communications?

31 July 2011 - 18th Sunday in Ord Time [Cycle A]

July 31, 2011 - Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Reading 1 - Is 55:1-3
Thus says the LORD: All you who are thirsty, come to the water! You who have no money,
come, receive grain and eat; Come, without paying and without cost, drink wine and milk!
Why spend your money for what is not bread; your wages for what fails to satisfy?

Heed me, and you shall eat well, you shall delight in rich fare. Come to me heedfully, listen, that you may have life. I will renew with you the everlasting covenant, the benefits assured to David.

Responsorial Psalm - Ps 145:8-9, 15-16, 17-18

R. (cf. 16) The hand of the Lord feeds us; he answers all our needs.
The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and of great kindness.
The LORD is good to all and compassionate toward all his works.
R. The hand of the Lord feeds us; he answers all our needs.
The eyes of all look hopefully to you, and you give them their food in due season;
you open your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing.
R. The hand of the Lord feeds us; he answers all our needs.
The LORD is just in all his ways and holy in all his works.
The LORD is near to all who call upon him, to all who call upon him in truth.
R. The hand of the Lord feeds us; he answers all our needs.

Reading II - Rom 8:35, 37-39

Brothers and sisters: What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword? No, in all these things we conquer overwhelmingly through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Gospel - Mt 14:13-21

When Jesus heard of the death of John the Baptist, he withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself. The crowds heard of this and followed him on foot from their towns.
When he disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, and he cured their sick. When it was evening, the disciples approached him and said, “This is a deserted place and it is already late; dismiss the crowds so that they can go to the villages
and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “There is no need for them to go away;
give them some food yourselves.” But they said to him, “Five loaves and two fish are all we have here.” Then he said, “Bring them here to me, ” and he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass.

Taking the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, he said the blessing, broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, who in turn gave them to the crowds. They all ate and were satisfied, and they picked up the fragments left over—twelve wicker baskets full. Those who ate were about five thousand men, not counting women and children.

Reflection

The most prominent theme of today’s Gospel passage concerns the feeding of the multitudes, and how this miracle serves as a palpable metaphor for the manner in which God “feeds” His people and provides for their needs. The insight is straightforward and worth taking to heart—if we come to be in the presence of Jesus, we will be fed. Simply by showing up, our welfare is guaranteed. We would do well to integrate this message into our daily life, trusting that God cares for us and asks nothing in return, as the prophet Isaiah declares.

And yet there is another very significant subtext taking place in today’s selection from Matthew; one so subtle as to be easily overlooked. So familiarized with the imagery of Jesus multiplying fish and loaves, we may quite naturally skip right past the opening lines of the Gospel—Jesus receiving news of his close relative’s death.

In contemporary America, the relationship between cousins varies immensely. Some families live miles, even plane-flights apart, seeing one another only every few years for a major family event or gathering. Others grow up close by, forging deep and intimate bonds from their earliest years, feeling a sense of kinship so close it is as though they are siblings. This latter dynamic, in which first cousins are very nearly brothers/sisters by virtue of proximity and intimacy, is more apt to describing the way in which most tribal societies are organized.

Jesus almost certainly grew up playing with his cousin John, and the two undoubtedly felt an intense, fraternal love for one another. This childhood bond was most likely strengthened by their shared ministry—John saw his own vocation not to become, himself, the focus of his work, but to prepare the way for Jesus. In the Synoptic Gospels, it appears too that the disciples of Jesus are personally acquainted with John and his ministry, so it stands to reason that Jesus and John, though they be preaching in different parts of the region at any given moment, kept in close touch.

With this in mind, we return to the first line of the Gospel, wherein Jesus is said to have “withdrawn in a boat to a deserted place by himself.” So powerfully affected by news of the death of his close friend was Jesus, that he paused his own ministry and disappeared for a while to grieve by himself. In the Gospel of John, we see Jesus weep—really, a better translation would be “convulses uncontrollably”—at the tomb of Lazarus. He is so overcome with sadness that his body literally trembles and groans. While there may have been a crowd to witness him break down over Lazarus, in this instance, he went off by himself. There is every reason to believe that, in the privacy of his escape, he mourned with equal vigor and emotion. Jesus—God Himself—was every bit as overwhelmed by the loss of a loved one as we are. To say that Jesus, the Second of the Person of the Trinity, was really human is to make an abstract assertion. To attest that he found himself weak at the knees, sick to his stomach, and flush in the face upon learning that his dear friend had died—is to concretize that abstraction. Jesus, true God and true man, wept. And, more importantly, he was so potently affected, he needed to take time off from what he was doing in order to deal with those powerful emotions.

This is no trivial matter, particularly not for us, contemporary disciples, as we struggle to find peace amid similar circumstances. How do we respond when a parent dies? Or, a close friend? John and Jesus were less than a year apart, and they worked “in the same field.” How shaken would we be if a close friend, our own age, not even in his/her mid-30’s yet, were taken too soon, much less killed violently as was John?

This Gospel speaks to us in our pain and our vulnerability. It affirms for us the need to take time away from our usual routine to deal with the suffering that a death brings about. There is nothing inherently noble nor Christ-like about repressing this sort of pain and pushing through our mundane tasks. God Himself felt pain, and God Himself took time off from work to try and re-group before he attempted a return.

Eventually, Jesus did return, his cheeks still stained with dried tears and his body fatigued from the emotional enervation of all-consuming mourning. Eventually, he went back to work. Not only can Almighty God, Creator of the Universe and Sustainer of All That Is, empathize with us in our pain, He can relate to us in what it feels like to have to go back to work, drained from the experience of a death. Muscles tired. Eyelids sore. Emotions bled of their vitality. All that, and Jesus manages to be moved by pity at the crowds who need him. With the help of his colleagues, the disciples, and with grace from God, who is Father, Jesus comes up with the energy to minister to the people.

The point of the Incarnation, of God become human, is that we might relate better to God. That we might be able to come to God in our moments of unmitigated agony, as well as unbridled joy. That we can know there is a person who understands the true depths of our heart and sits beside us throughout, embracing us and giving us strength. The Jesus of today’s Gospel is precisely that person, and we are invited into a real friendship with him. If ever we find ourselves struggling to cope with the death of a loved one, desperately wondering how we will ever return to work on Monday, we should feel some solace knowing that God himself has some experience in that department.

Questions for Reflection

1) Have you ever lost a loved one? How did it feel? What sorts of emotions did you experience? Anger? Sadness? Outrage? Disbelief? How did you deal with them?

2) What sorts of support have you had during moments of intense suffering in your life? What sustains you during these times? What sorts of supports do you have right now? If they are not what you would like them to be, how can you make them a reality?

3) Do you feel comfortable going to God when you are in this sort of pain? Why/not?