Surprising Grace

It’s been some time since I wrote. The intervening time seems to have passed in a bit of a blur. Some moments stand out: the sunset on late afternoon walks home, light moments with the community, surprisingly deep conversations with friends or people I met for the first time, curious dogs on the street, the excitement of children. But a lot of the time has gone by in restless activity – one thing after the other of what I might call work – leaving me drained and looking for ways out of the “productivity trap” (which I wrote about in an earlier entry). It’s not that the work is not interesting. But sometimes I wonder if it is enough; if it really makes a difference. Perhaps some of this is due to the nature of the work I’m engaged in at the moment – research and advocacy – which has no visible immediate impact; but perhaps in another way it is a question that can be asked about anything that we do. As I write this I’m sitting in a hotel in Cebu, where a colleague and I have come ...

This reflection by Afra fcJ was inspired by the FCJ Constitutions, #276. I can only change myself….      What I cannot accept about others           reveals aspects of me that I haven’t fully accepted      What annoys me about others and my surroundings           speaks of disharmony inside me that calls out for balance      What triggers my disproportionate behaviours           points to brokenness within me that needs healing      What inspires me about others           awakens my deep desires      and what are my deep desires           but God’s desires in me, and for me? I can only change myself. The time for conversion is today,      is now. I don’t have to wait for tomorrow      because there is always something I can change about my...

"You, Bethlehem-Ephrathah, too small to be among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel.” (Micah 5: 2) Thus begins the first reading of this Sunday. This is one of many surprising statements in the scriptures, in which those who are “small” and overlooked are actually the ones blessed and chosen by God. The Gospel reading also takes up this thread as it follows the meeting of Mary and Elizabeth, two poor women from a backwater place, to whom God has inexplicably come. “And how does this happen to me…?” asks Elizabeth, not quite daring to believe (Luke 1: 43a). In fact, Jesus himself will go on to spell out this principle authoritatively in one of his best-known sermons: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.” (Luke 6: 20) Most of us would have come across that verse many times. Often, though, for those of us who are not materially poor, there is a temptation to “whitewash” the statement; to avoid it...

This Sunday’s first reading and psalm speak of the return of Israel’s children, who were exiles in a strange land. “[L]ook to the east,” says the prophet, “and see your children gathered from east and west…. Led away on foot by their enemies they left you, but God will bring them back to you…” (Baruch 5: 5-6) Do you ever feel, like Israel, the pain of exile? Of alienation? That existential loneliness that comes from being disconnected from ourselves, from each other, from our environment, and therefore from God? Much ink has been spilled on what some have now termed the “loneliness epidemic” in our societies. Technological innovation has made possible many improvements in the way we live. Through the internet we are more connected than ever – but, ironically, increasing numbers of people are feeling lonely, starved of quality contact with others. The influence of the digital world “can stop people from learning how to live wisely, to think deeply and to love generously.” (Lau...

Nowadays, my daily routine involves traveling a little more than an hour each day to my place of work (and back again in the evening), a big part of it on foot through drab-looking residential streets and across two dusty, polluted highways. In the last few weeks, however, it has given me much pleasure to see Christmas decorations going up bit by bit in the places I pass: a lighted star in someone’s window; wreaths made of recycled bottles on a bridge; and in the doorway of someone’s small tin shack – a complete nativity scene! These little bits of green and tinsel are more than just the trappings of Christmas… they are for me signs that point beyond. They hint at what we often forget: that behind the dull exteriors of the spaces we inhabit and the sheer familiarity of our daily grind is something extraordinary. The divine is indeed already present here among us, in the very places of our everyday challenges, boredom, and joy. This is what Christmas celebrates: that God has come...

(This post is continued from How to Discern a Vocation to Religious Life: Part I ) Of course, we aren’t always in touch with what our deep desires are in the first place. What often preoccupy us are the shrill and incessant voices of what I will call our “surface” desires (for chips and chocolates). One of the things that helped me in my process of discernment, then, was cultivating my awareness of what was going on inside me. (I’ve written about this before in a blog post on getting in touch with the daily “movements” of our hearts .) To continue the story then: once the two-month period I had given myself had passed, besides gathering information about various congregations of religious sisters, I also started a practice known in Catholic circles as “spiritual direction”, in which I talked to someone regularly about my spiritual life, and this person helped me to notice and become more aware of how I was experiencing God’s action in my daily life. In addition, I went to retrea...

A while ago a reader of this blog asked me, “How did you discern that religious life was for you?” As we have talked a little about discerning life choices here on this blog, I thought I might post my response here too and add to that conversation. Do feel free to leave comments or write back about your own thoughts or experiences. ***** Dear Reader, Your question reminds me of a rather interesting conversation my community had earlier this year at the dinner table when one of our sisters said that someone had asked her, “How do you know if you are called to religious life?” The four of us at the table started sharing our own stories of coming to that awareness. We were each from different countries, with age differences spanning 45 years, but surprisingly enough, while the details of each person’s journey varied widely, we noticed some common threads running through each one. The first was that each of us at some point felt a desire for religious life. While some peop...